Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (36 page)

“Bullet went through,” the surgeon muttered, peering at Gideon over the rims of his glasses as he replaced the bandage on Elizabeth’s side. He was trying to make him feel better, but he didn’t want his compassion. He didn’t deserve it. His fault. It was all his fault.

“That’s a good thing,” the man added.

Gideon didn’t bother to respond, instead focusing on her pale face, his body trembling with exhaustion, anger, and worry. Damn it all, but he couldn’t stop the memory from playing over and over in his mind. His hand tightened around her cold fingers. He should have known the dowager wasn’t their enemy. He should have protected her better. He should have known Elizabeth would do something so reckless. She’d said she needed a bloody knight in shining armor, but in reality she had been his savoir. He drew his knuckles down the side of her pale face.

“Will she be well?” Gideon asked, his voice rough with emotion.

The old man gave him a genuine smile. “She should be.”

He released a shuddering breath of relief. For one long moment he couldn’t speak, his throat tight with so many emotions he couldn’t quite define them. Elizabeth would be all right. He closed his eyes and pressed her hand to his lips. She had to survive. He couldn’t do this without her. She was his light, his life, the only thing keeping him grounded on this earth.

“The baby?” he whispered, lifting is gaze to the surgeon.

He sighed, his smile wavering. “We can only wait and see.”

He told himself that as long as Elizabeth survived, nothing else mattered. But he knew she would be devastated if the baby died. He brushed back her satiny hair. He would cut out his own heart before he would see her suffer. Vaguely, he was aware of the surgeon packing his supplies. If only he had been more diligent. Instead of being locked away in the study, he should have been protecting her.

Gideon held his hand over Elizabeth’s belly, his fingers trembling. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his hand until he touched her bare skin. Her coloring was almost as pale as the white sheet covering her breasts and waist. He swore he could practically feel the child’s heart pattering.

He hadn’t wanted the child. In fact he’d been downright horrified at the thought of his demon spawn growing in the woman
he loved. But now he couldn’t imagine life without the baby. It would be a girl, for some reason he knew that. And she would have Elizabeth’s rich auburn hair and laughing eyes. Aye, he wanted the child desperately. Wanted to take her outside and chase her among the flowers. He wanted to throw her into the air and catch her as he’d seen other fathers do at the park. He wanted to tuck her in at night and tell her to sleep sound, he would protect her, always. But he couldn’t, because the words would be a lie.

“I’ll be back soon to check on her,” the doctor said by way of leaving.

Moments later he closed the door, and Gideon was alone with his wife. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fireplace. He drew his hand down her smooth arm, unable to stop touching her. She looked so young and innocent, so weak and defenseless. He rested the tip of his finger on the bridge of her nose, lightly touching those freckles that stood out harshly against her pale skin.

“Your mother’s a fighter,” Gideon whispered urgently, pressing his hand to her belly once more. “You are too. You will be well enough, won’t you, little one?”

The door creaked open. Gideon glanced behind him, intending to tell whoever stood there to leave them in peace. One look at Henry and Cally and his anger and frustration fled. Those damn heartstrings grew taut. He didn’t want to love them, he didn’t want to care. But damn it all, it was too late.

“Come here,” he said softly, pulling a blanket over Elizabeth’s still body.

They shuffled hesitantly across the room, pausing next to him. “Is she dead?” Cally whispered, her large green eyes shimmering with tears. Her face was splotchy, her breathing hitched. He wanted to do nothing more than cradle the children against his chest and swear to them that all would be well.

He settled in the chair near the fireplace. “No, of course not. The doctor merely gave her some medicine so she would sleep.”

“Will she die?” Henry asked, his lower lip quivering. His eyes were just as red-rimmed as his sister’s. He sniffled, swiping his nose with this sleeve. They kept darting nervous glances toward the bed, and their worry almost broke his heart.

“No.” He wrapped an arm around each child and drew them close to his chest, breathing in their scents. Sweat and sweets and talcum powder. Innocence. He pressed their heads to his shoulders and closed his eyes. Just holding them made him feel better for some reason. He knew, bloody hell, he knew in that moment the little brats had wormed their way into his heart. He had actually missed them these last few days he’d been holed away in Mr. Ashton’s office.

“You sure she’ll be well?” Cally mumbled against his shoulder.

Gideon pulled back and cupped her face, so like Elizabeth’s. Those green eyes, those freckles. “Yes. I promise. I swear.”

And she would live, even if he had to claw his way to heaven and drag her back to earth. Cally looked greatly relieved, believing in him. But Henry wasn’t so trusting. He frowned, hesitating. He didn’t blame the poor lad. Aye, Henry would make a fine baron one of these days, and he’d make sure Elizabeth was there to see it.

Gideon cupped the back of the boy’s head. “What is it, lad?”

“Grandmamma said that she might not make it.”

He was so startled that for a moment he thought he’d misheard him. Gideon surged to his feet, his anger burning brightly through him. It gave him purpose and determination. “She’s here? Your grandmother is here?”

The children nodded, that fear back in their eyes. Gideon realized he was scaring them once more. He forced himself to relax, forced himself to take in a deep breath and smile even though he had murder on his mind. “I need you to stay here and watch over your mother. Can you do that?”

The children nodded. He turned and started across the room, attempting to keep his movements slow and calm so as not to
frighten them, at the same time eager to see if the witch was actually on his property. Inside he seethed. She might not have been a murderer, but she was still guilty all the same, for she would have seen to them starving on the streets if she’d had her way. He glanced at Elizabeth, making sure she still slept, then pulled open the door.

Sarah stood there sniffling into her apron.

“Calm down,” Gideon demanded, in no mood to placate the maid.

She nodded, tears streaming down her rosy face. “Y-yes, my lord.”

“Go inside and watch over Elizabeth and the children.”

“Of course.” She rushed into the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Gideon turned, intending to find the dowager and kick her from the estate once and for all, but came up short when he saw her sitting quite comfortably on a small chair a mere few yards away. It was as if Satan himself had come calling. How the hell had she gotten into the estate? He’d have some very harsh words for the footmen indeed.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, starting toward her. He had to remind himself that this woman had not actually tried to kill Elizabeth. He had to remind himself that he would end up in prison if he harmed her. But nothing he said made a difference. He still despised her with a hatred that burned like a million embers in the pit of his belly.

She tilted her chin in a defiant way, but her lower lip quivered in fear. “Elizabeth is family.”

He thought she jested, but with an assessing gaze he realized the insane woman was actually serious. How dare she claim Elizabeth as family now of all times? It took every ounce of his strength not to lift her from that chair and toss her from the house.

He paused only a few feet away, towering over her. “Get out now.”

“I will not.” She struggled to stand, her black skirts rustling with the movement. “I need to know if she survives.”

“Why, so John can inherit? Do you think to prove Henry a bastard if Elizabeth dies?” He leaned closer to her, the scent of rose water and old woman sickening. “Henry isn’t the only one in line for the estate. Poor John is getting pushed even further down the line.”

The gaslights flickering along the walls gave her pale complexion a ghostly shade. “Whatever do you mean?”

Her confusion was genuine. She didn’t know who he was; perhaps she wasn’t even aware that her son had been married. She didn’t realize they were related, and he didn’t want her to know. For once, he had the upper hand. “You, madam, have brought nothing but darkness to this home, and you will do so no more.”

“Now see here—”

“You see here.” He gripped her fleshy upper arm and drew her up close. “You will leave, and you will never return.”

“My grandchildren—”

“Don’t you dare speak their names. Because of your hatred, Henry almost died.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Her round cheeks flushed with a guilt he found disdainfully late in coming. It didn’t make him feel better.

For a moment neither of them said a word. He could barely believe this woman was his grandmother. There was no familiarity in her face, no kindness or compassion. Family wasn’t about blood, it was about love. She was no family to him.

He shoved her away, the older woman stumbling back a step. “Leave,” he insisted. “Now, because if you don’t you’ll regret it.”

Gideon turned. He’d wasted enough time on this woman, he’d wasted enough time on the past. He would waste no more. Elizabeth needed him. The children needed him. Hell, he needed them. He reached for the doorknob.

“You’re him…aren’t you? My grandson who disappeared fourteen years ago.”

Gideon froze, his jaw clenched in outrage, bemusement, and regret. He should have left her to rot in the hall. Should have sent
for the footmen to carry her back to her carriage and see that she left the estate.

“I knew my son kept a woman, and I knew she’d had children.”

He faced her, his lips pulled back into a snarl. The past sure as hell didn’t paint her in a loving light. “You knew, yet you left us to rot.”

Her lower lip quivered. “It was not my responsibility to see to your family.”

As he gazed at the woman who was his grandmother, he only felt a mixture of pity and disgust. The anger was gone. He didn’t bloody well care anymore. She could very well rot in her bitterness, just like Lady Lavender.

What had happened had happened. He could not change the past, but he could change the future. “You’re right. It was my responsibility. That’s why I whored myself out.”

She gasped, pressing her wrinkled hand to her heart.

He found sick satisfaction in the fact that he had shocked her. “That’s right, for the last fourteen years I’ve been a whore.”

She shook her head, the lace cap she wore whispering over her hair. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you will. Leave. Never return, never write, not a word. If you don’t accept Henry as your own, if you speak an ill word about him to anyone, I will take my rightful place in this family, and I will make sure the world knows what I’ve been for the last fourteen years. A whore.”

She paled. “No. You’ll make our line a cruel jest.”

Who would have thought his past would eventually save them all? “It’s either Henry or me. You decide.”

She remained mute, horrified. He’d made his point. He’d won. He didn’t care, he only wanted to see Elizabeth, to hold her close and whisper words of love until her thick lashes lifted and she smiled at him once more.

“Leave.” He turned around and started toward the bedroom door. “And don’t come back.”

“I…I don’t want to be alone.” Her voice hitched with an emotion he wouldn’t have expected from her. “I have no one.”

He was still a heartless bastard after all, for he would not be swayed by her plea. “You should have thought about that before you tried to destroy my family.”

Without another word, he tore open the door and stepped into Elizabeth’s room. Here, he felt safe, warm, cared for. She still lay upon the bed, her breathing deep and even. His angel. His life. Henry and Cally were sitting by the fireplace with Sarah, as she told them a story of some sort.

He had a family.

He’d had no one and suddenly…suddenly he had children, he had a wife. He even had a brother, although he didn’t dare dwell upon that too thoroughly. He had a family, and he had everything to lose. But he also had everything to gain.

“Sarah, take the children to dinner and make sure the dowager is shown out of the house and off the estate. Let the entire household know that the woman is never to be allowed on the land again.”

“Yes, my lord.” She scampered to her feet.

He ruffled Henry’s and then Cally’s hair as they moved past. Both smiled trustingly up at him. He waited until the door shut and then sank into the chair near the fireplace, suddenly exhausted. The children trusted him. They’d given their hearts so readily. Perhaps it had taken him a little longer, but he trusted Elizabeth. He trusted her with his heart, his soul. She must recover. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He couldn’t live without her.

“Did I hear correctly?” Elizabeth croaked, her voice raspy.

Hope burst within. Gideon surged to his feet and was at her bedside within two steps. “How do you feel?”

In a fell swoop, he took in her pale features, her hazy eyes, and deep breathing. She was awake. She looked well. She sounded
well. Dare he believe she would be well? He settled gently on the edge of the bed and took hold of her hand, his own fingers trembling as he resisted the urge to scoop her up into his arms.

“I feel…like I’ve been shot.” She grinned, only to grimace. He felt her pain like someone had shoved a sword into his gut. He wanted to take her wound; he wanted to hurt for her.

“I won’t lie,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “It hurts like hell.”

He couldn’t quite manage to return her smile. Instead, he trailed his knuckles down the side of her face, unwilling to move, afraid that if he even blinked she would disappear and he would realize this had all been a terrible ruse. “Yes, it does.”

Her pink tongue darted out, licking her dry lips. “You’ve been shot?” She was trying her hardest to stay awake. He pressed his lips to hers, breathing in her warm breath, the air between them mingling. Aye, he would keep her alive, even if he had to breathe for her.