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Martha Schroeder (20 page)

BOOK: Martha Schroeder
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Jane sat where Amelia had left her. She was leaning forward, her fingers on Gideon’s wrist. She smiled at Amelia as she entered. “Ah,” she said, “I am glad you took my suggestion. You must feel a great deal better after your bath.”

“How is he?” Amelia took up her position on the side of the bed.

“His pulse is normal, and I think his fever is down as well. A good night’s sleep, and he should be well on the road to recovery. It was not a serious wound, and if not for the previous harm to his head, I doubt he would be in as bad a case as he is.” Jane spoke in her authoritative, teacher’s mode, and Amelia was cheered by her conviction.

“I will remain with him for a while, Jane.” She leaned over to smooth the unruly dark hair back from Gideon’s forehead. “You might as well go to bed. Or better yet, seek out Sir Richard and try to bring him to his senses. A little of your brisk common sense will go a long way toward that end, I am sure.”

“I think I understand his feelings about his nephew, but I will talk to him about his treatment of Gideon.” The look on Jane’s face told Amelia that her friend was not looking forward to the interview. “I will be back to take my turn in an hour or so.”

“I will stay. You may think Sir Richard has reason to behave in that extraordinary manner, but I do not. And I will not have him waking Gideon up so they can talk about children drowning.”

“Drowning?” Jane said. “Who said anything about drowning?”

“I don’t know.” Amelia put her hand to her head. She was too tired to remember what had put the idea in her head. “I thought Sir Richard did.”

Jane frowned as if trying to remember. Then she shrugged and left the room.

Alone with him at last, Amelia looked at Gideon, trying to decide if he did look better than he had when first brought into the Abbey. She took his hand in both of hers and gazed down at his sleeping face, her heart in her eyes.

“I love you, Gideon Falconer,” she whispered. “And I always will. And just in case you were thinking you could wiggle

out of marrying me even though you promised me you would, I have every intention of spending this night with you as well.”

With an impish grin, she slipped off her shoes, slid under the covers and settled a pillow against the headboard. Leaning back against it, she opened the book she had thought to bring with her and pulled the candle on the table next to the bed a little closer. She knew her behavior was outrageous, but she simply could not bear to be separated from him by so much as an inch.

The day had brought such pain and fear as she had never endured. The only thing that had kept her from shattering into useless, hysterical terror was Gideon. His bravery and humor had kept the worst fears at bay, and his belief in her own courage had buoyed her when she needed it most. He was her best friend as well as her love, and she needed to be near him. Unconsciously she snuggled a little closer to him.

There was also the unaccountable behavior of Sir Richard. She did not understand it, and by now her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. The book slid from her fingers to rest face down on her lap. If for some reason the colonel took it into his head to try to accost Gideon in the night, she would be here to prevent any further harm.

So she would just sit here next to him and read. And perhaps every now and then she might stroke his hair, just a little, to reassure herself that he was here and alive and would be none the worse for his adventures.

She picked up her book again and resolutely began to read. But Gideon’s body was warm next to hers, and the single candle on the table next to the bed cast only a dim and flickering light. Inexorably her eyes drifted shut, and she slept.

A vagrant sunbeam that crept from between the heavy velvet window curtains awakened Gideon some hours later. He ached in every muscle and nerve. It must, he thought fuzzily, have been quite a battle. Odd that he was so comfortable. One did not usually find feather beds in one’s billets after a battle. Nor did one usually find such a soft, warm body next to—

“Amelia!”

“Wha—what?” She shot upright as if someone had poured cold water over her. “Gideon!”

“What are you doing in this bed?” He was horrified. Surely he hadn’t—they didn’t—she wouldn’t—

“Sleeping,” she responded with a sunny smile in which he could see no trace of guilt. “And making sure that you did not open your stitches during the night.”

He hauled himself painfully to a sitting position and glared at her. “Well, would you be so good as to remove yourself from my bed at once? I cannot begin to think what your father would—”

She interrupted him with a peal of laughter. “Gideon, you sound exactly like Miss Goodacre when I tried to paint a mural of the Battle of Bosworth on the schoolroom wall. You even purse up your mouth the way she used to. You missed your calling, my friend. You should have been a governess.” She chuckled, and Gideon couldn’t help smiling back at her. Amy’s laugh, her tousled curls, the smile in her eyes evoked feelings that no one else ever aroused. With Amy he felt himself at home, warm and comfortable and yet excited and alive.

He loved her. He had known it forever, but after their adventure, the danger they had shared, the confession of his love, he could not deny it, did not want to deny it. Nothing could come of it, Amy would not want him once the adventure ended. But he would never change. His feelings had grown too strong for him. Seeing her yesterday, afraid but pitting herself against all enemies, ready for any challenge had only added one more layer to his love. She was not only beautiful and good, intelligent and kind—she was pluck to the backbone! What a soldier’s wife she would make. If only—

Amelia had placed one cool hand on his forehead and had picked up his wrist with the other. “I believe your fever is gone,” she announced with a frown between her brows, “but your pulse is more rapid than I think is good for you.”

“I am not surprised,” Gideon responded dryly. “I do not usually awaken to find a beautiful woman in bed with me. When I do, my pulse has a tendency to behave in an irregular manner.” He grinned at her. “It is considered quite natural, I believe. So if I were you, I would get out of this bed as fast as I could.”

“Or ... ?” She grinned back at him. “What might happen should I fail to heed your advice?”

He looked into her mischievous eyes and was lost. He leaned over her. “This,” he said, and took her mouth with his. Instantly her arms went around his neck, and she drew him even closer. He couldn’t help himself. He was drowning in the sweetness of her kiss, the feel of her body pressed against his as they slid slowly down into the bed. She was his. There was no mistaking the quality of her surrender, the passion she didn’t even try to hide.

Struggling to control his own desire for one more moment in her arms, Gideon did not know whether to laugh or curse when he heard the door open. He looked up and slowly withdrew from his love’s embrace.

“Good morning. Miss Forrester,” he said formally.

“Captain.” Her tone was neutral as she came into the room and kicked the door shut behind her. She was carrying a breakfast tray, which she set down on the table next to the bed. “Amelia. I think that you may have about thirty seconds to get out of that bed and into the chair. Take the book with you, and try to look as if you spent the night reading and dozing.”

“As indeed she did,” said Gideon.

Amelia didn’t move. She looked defiant, and she gave both her friends a hard look. “I do not see any purpose to be served in pretending I did not spend the night in Gideon’s bed, since I did.” She silently dared either of them to object.

“Amy, stop trying to ruin yourself so I will marry you. No one but Jane will know that you fell asleep where you did, or that I took shameless advantage of you and kissed you.”

“For which forbearance I am supposed to be grateful, I gather.” Mutiny was in her eyes.

Gideon sighed. “Amy, angel, we really cannot discuss this now. Please get out of this bed and have some tea. You have to see Eustace this morning, and you had best be fortified.”

Amelia’s face fell. She had been primed for a battle royal over her behavior, but Gideon refused to gratify her. He had kissed her as if he loved her, and then ordered her to ignore her feelings and prepare to cope with life. Sighing inwardly, she faced the fact that she had other, more practical problems to deal with.

“Eustace,” she said, a little residue of fear tingeing her voice. “Yes. I had forgotten.” Quiet now, all mischief and passion extinguished, she slid from the bed, her fingers trailing reluctantly from Gideon’s arm. “I will return in a few minutes.”

By the time Amelia had washed and brushed herself, she was feeling more like a daylight person, brisk and tough as old boots. Ready for anything. Even Eustace. But not for Sir Richard, who had taken up his position in front of the fireplace in Gideon’s room when she returned. She did not think she could face another scene with the colonel, and she almost considered escaping to the kitchen and eating with Cook, something she used to do as a child when she had tried Miss Goodacre’s patience too far.

“Lady Amelia.” He inclined his head, but the look in his eyes was absentminded. His thoughts were elsewhere.

“Sir Richard.” He looked grave, she decided, as if there were some momentous problem to be solved.

“Have you looked in on my naughty cousin this morning?” she asked. She knew she sounded flippant and light-minded, but it was either that or quail at the thought of having to see that monster.

Sir Richard frowned. “Naughty?”

“It is just Amy’s kind of Dutch courage,” Gideon said. He sat up against a pile of pillows with a tray across his legs. He looked bright and amused and ready for anything. Only the lines of strain around his eyes revealed the toll yesterday’s actions had taken. “She belittles what she fears.”

“I would like to get your opinions of what I should do with regard to Eustace,” Amelia said, ignoring Gideon’s last comment. He was right, and it shook her that he knew her that well and took that knowledge so casually. “I have determined that he should go abroad. But I need the means to keep him there.”

“A credible threat,” Sir Richard murmured.

“Yes,” said Amelia. “But what would that be?”

There was silence for a few minutes until Gideon smiled a thin, knowing smile and said, “A confession. Make him sign a confession that he kidnapped Amelia and meant to force her to marry him and later that he was going to kill us both. If he signs it, and Amelia deposits it with her banker or lawyer, with orders to reveal it if he ever dares to return, that should keep him removed permanently.”

“Excellent idea,” said Sir Richard. “If he balks, you can simply threaten to inform the authorities.”

“But he will know I would not willingly risk our family name that way,” Amelia objected.

“Nonsense.” Jane looked up from the knitting with which she occupied her hands. “Eustace will believe that you will do anything for Gideon. If he thinks you want him out of the way to protect Gideon from harm, he will believe that you are capable of anything and he will sign the paper.”

“She is right,” Sir Richard said, a slight smile curving his lips. “If you would like, I will undertake to draft such a document.”

Gideon remained silent. Amelia looked over at him, but his face told her nothing. Their passionate embrace might never have happened. Everyone seemed to know how she felt, but even she did not know how Gideon truly felt about her. She knew Gideon’s deep-rooted aversion to being thought a fortune hunter, preying on the daughter of the man who took him in and sponsored him. That and their frantic declarations of love when death stared at them. But what did he really feel, now that they were free and safe? When they were in dire circumstances, he cared enough to grant her her heart’s desire. But was it his desire as well? She did not know.

You cannot think about that now. You cannot give way,
she told herself.
You have other problems, my girl, and you could use some advice about them.

“Do you think I had best speak to him myself?” she asked, trying to hide her craven desire not to do so.

“I do not think you can afford to wait until your solicitor or man of business can come here, even if you feel you can confide in them,” Sir Richard said. “If you like, I will talk to the duke with you.” He sounded oddly diffident, a great change from the furious, driven man of the previous night.

Amelia was still reluctant to accept any help from Sir Richard. His remarks about Gideon had infuriated her, and she did not relish being in his company, still less in his debt.

“That is kind of you, Sir Richard,” she said, her voice cool, “but Eustace is my cousin, and I should speak to him alone.”

“I would be happy if you would allow Sir Richard to accompany you, Amy. And to draft the document, so that you need not wait for a solicitor to do it.” Gideon sounded tired. She looked over at him. He was still wooden-faced, but she could see concern in his eyes. He knew how Eustace had reacted to her yesterday.

She could deny him nothing. “Of course, Gideon, if you wish it. Sir Richard, thank you. I will accept your help.”

She could tell by the faint tightening of his lips that the colonel was fully aware of her reluctance to do so. It was only because she dreaded seeing her cousin even more that she had acceded to Gideon’s request. He nodded curtly and went back to writing at the table by the bed.

As they left the room to go down to the library, where Hugh Sidley had taken Eustace, Sir Richard frowned and looked down at the figured carpet in the hallways as if it held the answer to a fascinating riddle.

“Lady Amelia, I am sorry for my behavior yesterday with respect to Captain Falconer.” He spoke without looking at her. “I was—overset, and I spoke without thinking. I have since thought a great deal, and I ask only that you refrain from judging me until I have had a chance to speak to Captain Falconer. I believe that there is an explanation—” He broke off impatiently. “Let us get this unpleasant task over with, and if you will stay with Captain Falconer while I talk with him, then you will understand us both a bit better.”

BOOK: Martha Schroeder
11.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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