if hes wicked (7 page)

he was done with romance.

Leopold opened the door and Julian felt his battered heart actual y skip at the sight of Chloe. She held Anthony’s hand and led him to the bed. The

sight of his son and Chloe together looked right. Too right. As they stood by the bed smiling at him the words
mine
and
family
pounded in his head. He staunchly silenced the refrain. Family implied marriage and, once he was free of Beatrice, he had no intention of ever marrying again. He had his heir. He

needed no wife. A part of him scoffed at that and he frowned. It was obvious that he needed to work on strengthening his convictions.

“Do you have pain?” asked Chloe, trying to guess at the cause of the ominous look that suddenly darkened Julian’s face. “I can fetch you some tea

to ease it.”

Julian forced himself to smile. “No. I am wel enough. Just caught fast in thinking on even more bad news.”

“Ah.” She glanced at Leo. “It should probably be handed out in very smal doses for just a while longer.”

“No,” Julian said before Leo could reply. “As you have al told me, there is no more time to play this game. And, concerning your herbal tea, I would

appreciate some after I dine tonight. It does help me sleep undisturbed by aches and pains and that is the best medicine, is it not?” He smiled at Anthony.

“And how are you?”

Anthony climbed up onto the bed to sit beside him and then proceeded to tel Julian about every single thing he had done since opening his eyes

that morning. Chloe added a few words now and then to aid clarity. Julian felt the pain of his uncle’s treachery fade away beneath the balm of his child’s

happy chatter. He struggled to ignore that part of him that also found peace and contentment in Chloe’s presence. If nothing else, he did not wish to reveal any interest in Chloe in front of her far too astute and watchful cousin.

“You have had a very busy day,” he said to Anthony, idly and fruitlessly trying to tame the child’s wild curls with his fingers.

“Aye, I have.” Anthony nodded vigorously, his curls bouncing. “I gots more to do.”

“
Have
more to do,” corrected Chloe, “and you can do it al after your nap.”

A stubborn look settled on the child’s angelic face. “Nay. Not tired.”

Even though he was amused by the boy’s use of the country-bred
aye
and
nay
, Julian hid it and nudged his son toward Chloe. “Then just rest and think for a while.”

Anthony gave a heavy sigh and slid off the bed. “If I must.”

It was hard not to laugh at the child’s martyred tone. The way Chloe rol ed her eyes severely tried Julian’s control as wel . As soon as they were

gone, however, he slumped back against his pil ows. Renewed anger over how Beatrice and Arthur had tried to kil his son flooded him. He closed his

eyes and cursed. It would take a very long time to forget just how close he had come to never knowing his child, and al because of his uncle’s greed.

When he final y opened his eyes again, it was to find Leo sprawled in the chair at his bedside, studying him.

“Aye, it
is
hard to think of how close the boy came to dying before he had even begun to live,” said Leo.

“Very hard.” Julian reached for the tankard of cider on the table by his bed and took a long drink in an attempt to clear a sudden lump in his throat.

“S’truth, whenever I think on it, I believe I could kil my wife with my bare hands if she was in reach. My uncle, too. The fury the thought stirs within me is hot, and, I fear, nearly blind.”

“Then douse it. What must be done now must be done logical y, meticulously, and coldly.”

Julian slowly nodded. “Agreed.” He could see a smiling Anthony in his mind’s eye as clearly as if the boy stil sat beside him. “There is far too

much at risk to fail.”

“Just what do you think you are doing?”

Julian clung to the chair he stood next to and looked at Chloe. Her eyes were dark with annoyance and she was scowling at him, her soft, ful

mouth turned down and slightly taut. He had the wisdom not to tel her she was beautiful when she was angry, the flush of temper upon her soft cheeks

flattering. Chloe would probably hit him over the head with the loaded tray for uttering such tripe.

A little unsettled by how wel he knew this woman, he answered, hoping conversation would silence his wayward thoughts. “I thought I would have

my dinner at this table tonight instead of in my bed.”

He decided to pretend not to see how she rol ed her eyes as she placed his dinner tray on the table. Instead he concentrated on sitting down

without revealing how unsteady and weak he was. After a week in bed, his wounds were healing and he had decided it was time to regain the strength he

had lost. Once out of bed it had not taken many unassisted steps for him to know that he had a lot of work to do before he could consider himself back in

fighting trim. He just hoped that when he achieved that goal he would be able to do more than just hide in the house and listen to reports of what his

enemies were doing now.

When Chloe sat down across from him and helped herself to a tankard of cider, he frowned. “Do you plan to join me for dinner?” The thought was

far more attractive to him than it ought to be. “I see no plate for you.”

“I have already dined,” she replied. “I just thought it might be wise to sit here so that I can aid you in returning to your bed.” She smiled faintly, then had a sip of cider when he grunted. “One more week and you wil be nearly as good as new.”

Pausing in his enjoyment of an excel ently cooked and seasoned slice of beef, he eyed her a little warily. “And you know this for certain, do you?”

“You mean, did I
see
it?”

He sighed. “Yes. Wel ? Did you?”

“Vaguely. I had no dream, asleep or awake. I just know. At times that is al it is. Just a knowing, an absolute conviction. I
know
that, in one week, you wil be healed. Although I would not suggest that you immediately rush out to slay your enemies.”

“That is not the best way to deal with these particular foes, is it.”

“Nay, I fear not. If they were not who they are, were not so highly born and bred, you could probably do as you pleased. Your word on their crimes

against you would be enough to justify the punishment you dealt. Not particularly fair, but—” She shrugged.

He forced himself not to stare at how that movement made her breasts shift enticingly beneath the bodice of her dark blue gown. “But true. Instead,

I must become a spy, a gatherer of information, and a deceiver.”

“Better a short time of playing that game than a long time in a grave.”

He grinned at her. “Wel said.”

Julian fixed his attention on his meal but found it difficult to become completely unaware of Chloe. Even the tempting aromas of a fine meal could

not ful y obscure her own soft and al uring scent. The attraction he had for her was refusing to be smothered, pushed aside, or ignored. It kept growing.

Each time he heard her soft, husky voice, or her laugh, or looked into her wide, inky blue eyes, he felt it grip him even tighter than before.

Listing al the reasons he should not think of Chloe Wherlocke as any more than a friend did not help dim that attraction. Each time he reminded

himself that he was married, a little voice whispered that he would not be for very much longer. He owed her and Leo his life and his son’s life. She was an innocent, something he was certain of despite the way she ignored the rules of propriety by so often coming into his bedchamber unchaperoned. She

thought she could see the future and that her whole family had such gifts. Chloe Wherlocke was the sort of a woman a man married, and he had no

intention of marrying again. Al good sound reasons, he mused when he finished his silent litany, but a part of him continued to fight to ignore such logic, and that part was winning. Hands down.

Pushing aside his now empty plate, he set the bowl of stewed, spiced apples in front of him. Chloe handed him the smal pot of sweet clotted

cream and he emptied it over the apples. When he caught her smiling at him, he cocked one brow in question even as he dug into his rich dessert.

“Anthony also loves to have a few stewed apples with his clotted cream,” she murmured and laughed when he narrowed his eyes at her but kept

right on eating.

Julian felt inordinately pleased by that information about his son. He took a minute to finish his sweet and clean his mouth and fingers before

speaking. It was not just good manners that prompted his hesitation to speak. The mere thought of how the child he had been deprived of for three years

showed signs of having even one of his quirks or qualities caused an uncomfortable lump to form in his throat. He needed a minute to regain his calm.

“The boy reveals excel ent taste,” he drawled and sipped his wine in a vain effort to cool his blood when she laughed again. Her laugh had a way

of going straight to his groin. “He seems a clever lad.”

“Oh, aye, he is.”

The look on her face told Julian just how deeply Chloe Wherlocke loved his son. “You have taken very good care of my son,” he said quietly, his

voice carrying an odd combination of gratitude and a possessiveness he could not ful y repress.

Chloe smiled, beating back the pain she felt over the knowledge that she would soon lose Anthony. “Aye, I have, m’lord, but it has also been my

pleasure.” She stood up and began placing his empty dishes back on the tray. “I love that child, have loved him since the moment I first held him. But I

have never forgotten that he is not mine, that he is not even my sister’s child despite what we have told others. Not for one single moment. He is
your
child, the future Earl of Colinsmoor. You need not worry that I shal try to keep him tied to my apron strings. Try not to fal on your face as you return to your bed,” she added as she left the room.

The tel tale sharp click of the door shutting behind Chloe told Julian that she had heard the possessive tone of his voice and probably none of the

gratitude. He cursed as he cautiously made his way back to his bed, refusing to acknowledge that he could have used her help. After al she had done, it

was churlish of him to feel the jealousy he did whenever he saw how close she and little Anthony were. It was also foolish. Anthony had known the

Wherlockes since his birth, but had only known his father for a matter of days, and that was not Chloe’s fault. He needed to get control of that

unreasonable jealousy.

A knock came at the door as he wearily settled himself in bed, slumping back against a bank of thick pil ows. Bidding the person to enter, Julian

knew his smile of welcome was a little weak as he greeted Edgar. His body felt as if he had climbed a mountain instead of simply walking around the

room a few times. The revival food had given him had proved to be very short-lived.

“Perhaps this should wait until tomorrow,” Edgar said, frowning at Julian. “You look pale, tired.”

“No, come in. Sit down. I just pushed myself a little too hard in my first unassisted walk. It wil pass.”

Edgar nodded and pul ed a chair close to the bed. “Getting restless?” he asked as he sat down.

“Very. I am straining at the bit to get my strength back so that I can do more in my defense than talk.”

“Understandable. Stil , you do not want to push too hard or you wil just lengthen your recovery.”

“I know.” Julian suddenly noticed that Edgar was dressed in some of his finest clothes. “Going somewhere?”

“The Paxtons are having a gathering. We are going to see if your uncle and wife appear. They were seen at the Gremonts’ just last night.”

“Obviously my wife does not intend to mourn me for very long.”

“Seems she is tel ing anyone who wil listen that she has considered you dead to her since the day you left her to take to drinking and whoring.

Although she does not say
whoring
. Uses some very prim words I cannot recal just now.”

“Clever. Makes herself the victim. Is it working?”

“With some, but not many.” Edgar cleared his throat and tugged at the lace on his cuffs before mumbling, “Too many know how she was no saint

before you left her. Too many angry wives, I think.”

“Quite possibly. Who is the
we
going to the Paxtons?”

“Myself, Leo, and Chloe. I came early so that I could have time to speak to you while Chloe finishes dressing.”

Julian suddenly realized that Chloe’s hair had been done up in a style that had left fat ringlets brushing her slim shoulders. He had had the passing

thought that he preferred her hair in a more untamed style. The fact that a woman had sat across from him while he had eaten his dinner and he had never

once told her that her new hairstyle looked nice on her astounded him. He had been wel trained in such courteous flatteries. It was apparent that he had

become a little too sunk in his own misery. To then let her see his jealousy concerning Anthony’s attachment to her had probably only added to the fuel of

the fire started by his lack of attention. He had obviously drowned al of his charm and courtesy in the copious amount of liquor he had consumed in the

last year. It was a wonder she had not slapped him upside the head with the tray and slammed the door on her way out.

“Is this al part of gathering information on my uncle and Beatrice?” Julian found himself wondering if Edgar had a romantic interest in Chloe and

was surprised at how much he disliked that possibility.

Edgar nodded. “Last eve, my godmother overheard Arthur and Beatrice discussing your death.”

“In public?”

“I am certain they thought they were private, but it smel s like a mistake to me. Careless.”

“Extremely careless. Considering that my uncle deals in secrets, one would think he would be wel aware of how easily someone can overhear