Loving the Marquess (2 page)

He surveyed the room around him. Where was he? Not in his
London townhouse. He remembered receiving a letter from his grandmother the day
before. While not unusual, his grandmother’s letters were rare enough to make
him wary since she never bothered him with good news.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory. He’d
arrived home yesterday afternoon, and a footman had presented him with the letter.
He remembered wondering what bad news he was about to read as he proceeded to
his study and threw the letter on the desk. He’d poured himself a brandy before
picking up the letter again and breaking the seal.

And that was all. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember what
his grandmother had written. Nor could he remember anything after that. He must
have read the letter. He always did. He’d learned long ago there was no point
in putting off bad news.

He opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening to find
a woman standing there. Could this be the woman he remembered hovering over him
last night? She was younger than he’d thought—not yet twenty if his guess was
correct. Her long blond hair, tousled from sleep, trailed over her shoulders.

He frowned. Had he spent the night with her? He must have
been truly out of his head, because he didn’t usually dally with girls who were
barely out of the schoolroom.

She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she entered.
When her gaze met his, she froze. Her eyes were blue and wide with shock. Then,
to his surprise, she opened her mouth and screamed.

Well, this was different. He’d made many women shriek in his
day, but usually with pleasure.

Louisa had just finished setting the
breakfast table when she heard the scream. So much for calmly explaining to her
sister what had happened the previous night. Catherine was already awake and
she must have gone to her room and discovered the man sleeping in Louisa’s bed.

Her sister burst through the dining room door moments later.

“Louisa,” Catherine said, her voice urgent as she came to an
abrupt stop. “There’s a man in your room. In your bed!”

Her sister’s distress was genuine and Louisa tried to keep
her voice soothing. “Sit down.”

Catherine followed Louisa’s orders and took a seat at the
dining room table, her confusion clear. “You’re not surprised.” It seemed to
take a few moments for that realization to sink in. “Why aren’t you surprised?”

The door burst open again and they both turned to see their
brother standing in the doorway. He was barefoot, wearing only trousers, a
pistol clutched in his hand.

“What happened?” he asked, looking anxiously at the two of
them. “Did he try to hurt you?”

Catherine’s bewildered gaze went from John to Louisa, then
back again. “Will someone tell me what is happening? Who is that man and why is
he in Louisa’s bed?”

“Calm down, both of you.” Turning to her brother, Louisa
pointed at his weapon. “Tell me you didn’t go into my room with that thing.”

“Excuse me,” John said, his voice dripping with annoyance.
“There’s a strange man in the house, one you insisted on watching over all
night without any help from me, so I loaded the pistol in case we should need
it. Upon hearing one of my sisters scream, I don’t know why I thought to
investigate. When I found neither of you in the room, I came looking for you.”

Louisa grimaced, imagining the scene.

“Well, you can put the firearm away now while I explain
everything to Catherine. She was merely surprised.”

With a parting glare at her, John left the room. Louisa
turned to face her sister, who was staring at her, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Who is he?”

Louisa pulled out the chair across from her sister and sat.

“I don’t know. He knocked at our door after everyone had
gone to bed. He was ill and asked for our assistance.”

“Why did you wake John and not me?”

“He’d collapsed, Catherine. I needed John’s strength to help
bring him to my room. And before you ask,” she continued, seeing the question
in her sister’s eyes, “we brought him there because I’d only just put out the
fire. It was late and my room was the only one that was still warm.”

While her sister was mollified, Louisa could tell she was
still annoyed at being left out of the night’s excitement.

“How long is he going to be here?”

“As long as necessary.”

“But how can we afford that? There’s barely enough food for
us and he doesn’t look like the kind of person who eats little.”

“We’ll manage. We always have,” Louisa said, standing. She
started toward the kitchen to get their breakfast. “Besides, we may be able to
get by with spooning some broth into him until he is better. He tossed and
turned for most of the night and I have no idea when he’ll wake.”

“Oh, he’s awake now.”

Louisa spun around at the casual comment. “What?” she asked,
trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in her stomach Catherine’s news had
elicited.

“He’s awake,” Catherine said. “What’s for breakfast?”

Their mysterious guest was awake. She should go see him,
find out who he was and how he was feeling. After Catherine and John’s visits
to her room this morning, he probably thought he’d wandered into a house filled
with bedlamites.

She started for the door.

“Louisa?”

“What?”

A knowing smile touched Catherine’s lips. “Never mind,” she
said, amusement evident in her tone. “You have more important things to look
after than breakfast. Or should I say, more handsome things?”

Louisa left her sister without bothering to reply and headed
for her bedroom. At seventeen, Catherine was at the age where her thoughts
often turned to her future husband. With the scarcity of eligible bachelors in
the village and the knowledge they would never have a proper Season in London,
she tended to latch onto every new face as a candidate for either her or her
sister’s affections.

When Louisa reached her room, she hesitated only briefly
before pushing aside her nervousness and entering. She closed the door softly
behind her and turned to face the man lying in her bed. Her breath froze. She
was no longer certain he was as harmless as she’d have her brother believe. On
the contrary, the man on her bed seemed too large for her small room and more
than a little dangerous.

He was leaning casually against the headboard, his arms
folded in front of a broad chest, his legs crossed at the ankles. He’d straightened
his clothes, which molded lovingly to his body, but his cravat hung limply
around his neck, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin at the base of his
throat. His dark brown hair was tousled from his restless sleep, a lock falling
across his brow. It was his eyes, though, that struck her most. Dark,
unreadable and trained on her.

She tried to speak, to breach the heavy silence that hung
between them, but she was captive to that gaze. Mercifully, he released her
when he dragged his eyes down her figure. She became acutely conscious of her
serviceable and long-out-of-fashion dress.

“How are you this morning?” she finally managed in a voice
she hoped didn’t reveal how much he’d disturbed her.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me?”

“You don’t appear to have suffered any ill effects.”

His mouth quirked at that. “That good, were you?”

Louisa shook her head, confused by his obvious amusement.

“I had nothing to do with it.”

Her words seemed to have a strange effect on him. His gaze
traveled over her again, more thoroughly this time, and heat sprang to her
cheeks. Then, to her surprise, he crooked a finger and whispered “come here” in
a tone that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Excuse me?”

“Come here. I need you.”

Worry overcame her unease. He seemed much better than he’d
been last night, but he might have injuries that weren’t obvious to the eye.
She hadn’t examined him that closely after her brother had removed his coat and
left them alone. She rushed to his side and before she realized his intention,
he grabbed her hand and tumbled her onto his lap. She froze, stunned, and their
eyes locked.

“Why don’t you refresh my memory about last night? I seem to
be a little vague on the details.”

As if in slow motion, his head tilted and descended toward
her. Surprise kept her still when his mouth touched hers, his lips softly
playing over her own. She opened her mouth to protest, but his tongue intruded
and all reason fled.

She’d had a suitor before, when her father was still
healthy, and they had shared a few kisses, but those kisses were nothing to
this one. She should have been shocked at the intimacy of his tongue moving
against hers, exploring her mouth. Instead, she found herself sinking against
him and reveling in the feel of his strong arms around her. She moved her own
tongue along his and his answering groan caused something new to stir within
her.

His mouth left hers to travel across her cheek, then down
the column of her throat, and waves of sensation roiled through her. The feel
of his hand on her breast was a welcome relief, both soothing the aching need
within her while stoking the flames higher. She clutched at his shoulders and
shifted to give him better access. When his other hand traveled up the length
of her leg and reached the bare skin above her stockings, however, she came
crashing back to reality. What on earth was she doing? She pushed against his
chest and scrambled off the bed when his grip loosened, ashamed of having
forgotten herself so easily.

Cheeks flaming, struggling to right her breathing, she
braved a glance at the man in her bed. His own breathing was as ragged as hers
and he looked even more dangerous than when she’d entered the room.

“Surely you’ll not deny me after last night?” His tone was
short, his annoyance clear.

Confused, Louisa could only stare at him. Then understanding
dawned.

“You don’t remember what happened last night.”

That was it, of course. His behavior now made sense. Not
remembering what had happened, he’d jumped to the only logical conclusion as to
why he’d be in a woman’s bed. She, unfortunately, had no such excuse for her
own behavior.

Very conscious of her shameful reaction to him, she rushed
to explain.

“You came to our house late last night. You were ill, unable
to stand, and had a fever. My brother and I thought it best to bring you here
where you could rest. I was afraid it might take you some time to recover, but
I see now I needn’t have worried.”

She realized she was babbling and stopped talking. His gaze
was intent upon her and she had to resist the urge to squirm.

“Yes, well,” he said after several moments, “I’ll thank you
now and be on my way.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“No,” Louisa said, rushing forward to lay a restraining hand
on his shoulder. His gaze moved from her hand back to her face and one corner
of his mouth quirked upward.

Reading his thoughts clearly, she dropped her hand and took
a step back. She may have allowed him to kiss her once, but she’d been taken by
surprise. There would be no repeat performance, a fact he’d do well to realize.

“You were very ill last night. You need to eat something to
rebuild your strength. I’ll bring you a tray.”

He regarded her silently. She tried to imagine what he was
thinking, but his expression was shuttered. She was about to leave to fetch his
breakfast when he finally spoke.

“It appears I have misread the situation, and for that I
apologize.”

He stood and Louisa held her breath, watching for signs of
weakness or fatigue. There were none.

“I suspect I was in no condition last night to formally
introduce myself. The Marquess of Overlea, at your service,” he said with a
brief bow.

She could feel the color drain from her face. She stood very
still, trying to calm her heart, which was now racing for a very different
reason.

She didn’t bother to return his courtesy when she replied.
Instead, she straightened her spine and looked him squarely in the eye.

“I am Louisa Evans, my lord,” she said, pleased that her
voice was even. “I believe you have already met my brother, John, and my
sister, Catherine.”

He recognized her name and she could see it gave him pause.
He recovered right away, but there was no doubt he knew what his family had
done to hers.

“We haven’t been formally introduced, but yes, I have had
the pleasure.”

She was amazed at how he could keep his manner so calm after
being accosted first by a screaming woman, then by a madman with a pistol.
Especially since he now knew the identity of the family who had taken him in.
Yet there he stood, calmly facing her as though his family hadn’t completely
ruined hers.

“I heard about your father’s death and I’d like to extend my
condolences.”

She could tell his words were sincere. His own parents had
died two years before in a carriage accident and then he’d lost his only
brother last year after a mysterious illness. Other than his grandmother, he
was now alone. They shared a brief, unexpected moment of silent commiseration.

“I’ll return in a few minutes,” Louisa said before turning
to leave.

“There’s no need. I’ll join you downstairs shortly.”

She was about to protest, but when she looked back at him
she could see from his expression that he would brook no argument.

* * *
* *

She was gone. Nicholas sank onto the bed and cradled his
head in his hands. Damn his headache. He’d almost disgraced himself in front of
her, but had somehow managed not to sway on his feet.

She’d been right to insist he eat something before leaving.
Each headache he endured took more out of him than the last. This one was the
worst yet. He’d never lost consciousness before. He had a sudden image of his
brother in agony, lying on his deathbed, but pushed it out of his mind. He was
still alive and refused to give in to despair. He would enjoy what time
remained, be it days, months, or years.