The Ravencliff Bride (24 page)

“To the contrary,” said Sara, “go right ahead. I have nothing to hide.”

“Very well, but you were warned,” Nicholas responded. “Alex Mallory has designs upon you, Sara. The circumstances of our marriage encouraged him to act upon them. He knew we were strangers, and evidently thought that since ours was not an affair of the heart, he might have a chance to win your affections. No doubt he hoped to engage you as his mistress. You told me yourself that he was flirtatious on your journey. You also told me that you had the matter in hand, and I believed you. That was an error on my part.”

“Nicholas—”

“Oh, no, my lady, you wished to hear this, and so you shall,” he interrupted. “He, whom you had ‘in hand,’ stole into your rooms foxed and took advantage of you while you were sleeping. He climbed into your bed, put his hands on you—despite your struggling—and very nearly violated you. He has not been seen since, and he has not left Ravencliff. He is hiding somewhere in this house, no doubt biding his time until he can continue his pursuance of you, or revenge himself upon you for your rejection of him. He was badly bitten in that process as I recall. If what I say were not the case, madam, he would have surfaced by now and humbly begged our forgiveness for behaving like a jackanapes in his altitudes, and that would have been the end of it.

“I have known Alex much longer than you, Sara. He is an elbow-bender of some repute, though he has never let his drinking interfere with his situation here before. He knows I will not tolerate it, because I know how ugly he becomes under the influence of liquor. When I say that there is danger, you can take me at my word. That I have not gone into the matter in detail with you before is simply because I did not want to frighten you, but perhaps it is best if I have. This is an enormous house. There are many places where he might
hide. We are doing everything in our power to find, and to deal with him, but until we do, I must insist that you abide by my rules. They are for your own protection. If you continue to leave your door open, you are inviting him to return and do worse. That is why he entered your suite in the first place. Finding the door ajar, he assumed it was an invitation for him to do so. He told you that
himself!

“Now then, it is very late. Mills will see you back to your suite, and make certain you are locked in for the night. I will come and collect you myself at the breakfast hour. This will be the way of it until Alex is dealt with.” He nodded a silent command to Mills, who went at once to her side. “Now, good night, Sara.”

She made no reply as the valet led her away. Her face was blotched scarlet, and her beautiful blue eyes were downcast. Nicholas’s heart sank. He hated himself for embarrassing her. Every instinct nudged him toward sprinting after her, taking her in his arms, and begging her forgiveness. Instead he stood his ground, ramrod-rigid, his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists at his sides.

“Damn and blast!” he gritted.

“Well done, my lord,” the doctor said.

“Do you think she believed me?”

“
I
believed you. Do not reproach yourself, my lord. You told her the truth, just not the truth entire.”

“I wish I shared your confidence,” said Nicholas, “but something in her eyes just now chilled me to the marrow. She isn’t convinced. I’m certain of it.”

“You shall have to put all this from your mind now, and get back to the business at hand,” the doctor said. “I am most encouraged, my lord. Before the interruption, you were very close to allowing me access to your subconscious. We shall try again tomorrow.”

“How serious is that?” Nicholas asked, nodding toward the doctor’s bandaged thumb.

“It is nothing. Mills is quite capable. We doctors make the
worst patients, I’m afraid. He provided the extra hand that was needed to bind it properly.”

“Forgive me for imposing upon you to remain. I haven’t lost all semblance of chivalry—although I cannot imagine why, what with this damnable role-playing-the-ogre charade I’m forced to take on to keep Sara at her distance. I knew she would never accept an explanation on the strength of my word alone.”

“I quite understand. Mills and I heard much of that conversation from the other room. I simply made my entrance on cue. Get some rest, my lord. We shall get an early start in the morning, and see how well we fare.”

“I doubt I’ll get much rest, Dr. Breeden,” said Nicholas. “Once I’ve had a word with Mills, and given my lady time to settle down, I shall keep an eye on her apartments from the green suite . . . Just to be sure.”

Sara’s door seemed open a little wider than she recalled having left it, when she and Mills reached the tapestry suite. She was too overset to tax her brain over inches, however. Besides, everything seemed in order when Mills poked his head in and glanced about.

“Where is Nell, my lady?” he asked.

“I excused her for the evening,” she replied. “His lordship has dismissed Peters. He was her sweetheart, and she has fallen into the dismals. It was the least I could do.”

“His lordship will not be pleased,” said the valet.

“I do not particularly care if his lordship is pleased, or not, but I’m sure you’ll go running off to give account.”

“We are only concerned for your welfare, my lady.”

“Then go tell him what you will, and leave me to my rest. Believe me, I have had enough adventures for one day.”

“Yes, my lady,” said the valet. Sketching a bow, he turned to go, and had nearly closed the door behind him, when she called him back.

“Wait, Mills,” she said. “If I were to ask you a question, would you tell me the truth?”

“I make it a practice always to tell the truth, my lady,” he replied.

“Is his lordship’s illness serious . . . I mean
really
serious?”

“We are hoping not, my lady,” said the valet. “Dr. Breeden is a celebrated healer. We must put our faith and trust in that, and let him do his work unhindered.”

He had replied without answering. The man was a study in diplomacy. Was there no one in the house to speak the truth in a firm and direct manner?

“What I want to know, Mills, is whether or not his condition is cause for alarm. I am no milk-and-water miss. I do not come to pieces in a crisis, and I could be of help if needs must.”

“His lordship’s condition has been with him since a child,” said the valet. “It is hardly a cause for alarm. It is . . . unpleasant, and he is in hopes that the doctor’s treatments will make it easier to bear. There’s really nothing you can do. I will, however, pass on your concern, and your kind offer of assistance.”

“Thank you, Mills,” she said, as he bowed again and shut the door between them, ending the conversation.

Sara turned away. Despite Nicholas’s eloquent oration, she would still have to unravel the coil herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding something back—that they
all
were.

She yawned and stretched. It was fast approaching midnight. It had been a long day. She was just about to enter the bedchamber, when she remembered the door, and crept back to leave it ajar for Nero. That done, she snuffed the candles, and passed through the bedchamber door only to pull up short before a pile of her clothing strewn about the carpet, and a visitor on her bed.

“
Nero!
” she scolded. “Did you make this mess? What a
naughty dog. Come down from there. That is my bed, not yours.” It was a playful scolding, and the animal didn’t move. Reclining on her pillow, he continued to watch her cross the room. “I see the armoire door is open. Nell must have left it so. Did you pull all this down from inside? You must have done. Shame on you, Nero! This isn’t like you at all.”

Sara ventured nearer, standing arms akimbo. His leg looked better. Maybe that accounted for his arrogance, or maybe he was just exhausted and out of sorts from his labors on the beach. There was no evidence that he had been down on the strand now. His shaggy coat had dried, and it didn’t smell as clean as it might have if he’d just come in from the salty air.

“I wonder if you understand me,” she mused. “Sometimes, you seem as though you do, and then on other occasions, like now, it is as though you’ve come from the wild. I don’t know why that should surprise me, considering the way you are ill-used in this house.”

The animal blinked, then continued to stare.

“Well, I shan’t desert you,” Sara said. “You can count upon my protection even more now. He means to kill you, Nero. He’s carrying a pistol—I saw it. He intends to shoot you. You must take care in coming here.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “Oh, what am I saying, you’re only a dog. You don’t have the slightest idea of what I’m talking about, do you, boy? No, of course you don’t. Well, you cannot spend the night in my bed. You shouldn’t be prowling about, either. It isn’t safe. You shall have to go wherever it is that you do go, before you are caught out. I would feel dreadful if it were my fault. I shall probably be leaving Ravencliff soon, and when I do I shall take you with me, but not tonight. Get down, boy.”

She took a step nearer, but when she reached to nudge him off the counterpane, he stood and hunched his back. Hackles
raised, he curled his lips exposing fearsome fangs, and loosed a guttural snarl that stopped her where she stood. Glaring eyes bore down upon her, glowing red. Sara’s breath caught in her throat. He looked ready to spring.

Fear spread gooseflesh over her skin, and her hands began to tremble. This was the second time he’d turned on her. He hadn’t been the same since Alexander Mallory shot him. She could hardly blame the poor animal, but there could only be one alpha, when it came to a dog and its master. She had enough experience with dogs to know she had to keep the upper hand. There was a porcelain basin and pitcher of water on the dry sink beside the bed, and she snatched the pitcher just as the animal lunged at her, and emptied its contents full in his face as he sprang. The snarl died to a whimper, and he bounded off the bed and streaked out through the foyer door, shaking himself as he went.

Sara’s hands were trembling. The echo of his sharp teeth clacking against the porcelain pitcher just inches from her fingers still rang in her ears. She set the pitcher down, and stripped the wet counterpane from the bed. It would dry beside the fire with no one the wiser. Had she taken command? She wasn’t sure. For the moment perhaps, but there needed to be another gesture of her disapproval so that there be no question, and she locked the foyer door. Just for tonight. Then, when Nero was calm, and she had beaten back her fear enough to face him without him smelling it, she would unlock the door again.

The room was a shambles, but she dared not wake Nell and explain what had happened. She set about ordering it herself. The last articles of clothing she picked up were the peach silk nightdress and wrapper she had worn the night Alexander Mallory tried to molest her. They had been laundered, the bloodstains removed, and Nell had set them out for her before she retired. By the look of things, Nero had dragged them about the room and marked them just as he
had the carpet, and she tossed them into the fire. Seeing them again brought it all back, and she shuddered, took another gown from the chiffonier, and readied herself for bed.

Snuffing out the candle, she climbed into the four-poster. Across the way the dying embers in the hearth had sprung to life again, fed by the cloud of peach silk she’d consigned to the flames. She sighed, trying to forget the images of that other night, of the terror she’d felt beneath Alexander Mallory’s demanding body, of the fetid odor of strong liquor on his breath, and the words he’d whispered in her ear:
“You left the door ajar for me, just as I knew you would, didn’t you, my lady. You won’t be sorry . . .”

Her eyelids began to droop, but those words wouldn’t fade away. Again and again they echoed across her memory, giving her no peace until all at once she vaulted upright in the mahogany four-poster, her heart pounding in her ears.

“How could Nicholas possibly know Alexander Mallory told me that . . .
himself?
” she murmured.

The weather turned fair at the end of the week, and dispositions improved somewhat. Sara kept to herself, dividing her time between her apartments and the vast Ravencliff library during the day, perusing what tomes she found there that might offer insight into Nicholas’s mysterious condition. Dr. Breeden resumed his treatments, and Nero made no more visits to Sara’s apartments, though she’d left her door ajar since the morning after the incident. She was beginning to worry that her punishment had been too severe. No one had seen Nero in days. It was as if he had vanished in thin air.

Sara finished her menus for the duration of the doctor’s stay, which was more than half over. Her ultimatum, as far as she was concerned, had not been met. Nicholas was holding something back; she was certain of it. If he didn’t give her credible explanations in the next few days, she would be forced to keep her word and leave Ravencliff, something that would break her heart to do. It would also break her heart to stay as things were between them—loving him, and wanting him with no hope of fulfillment. She had gambled with drastic measures, and failed, unless he chose to yield to her demands
and tell her what was really wrong with him, and why he wouldn’t make love to her, when it was obvious that he longed to take her in his arms and consummate their marriage.

Also in question was why he wanted to harm Nero. It was one thing to want to be rid of a dog by finding a home for it elsewhere, but Nicholas meant to kill the animal, which she would not let him do. She would take Nero with her if it came down to it, but she couldn’t take him if she couldn’t find him, and time was running out.

When Smythe came that afternoon to tell her Nicholas wished to see her in the study, Sara collected her menus and followed him below, assuming it was those he wanted to see. She found him pacing before the unlit hearth. For the first time since she’d entered the house, the weather was warm enough that fires could be dispensed with during the day, though she’d been warned that at night, and in dirty weather, she might expect hearth fires all through the summer to chase the dampness in the old house.