Snowed in with a Rogue, page 15
“Tea?”
“Yes, tea.” She pulled a rag out of a bowl nearby, wringing the excess out. The sound rung a memory in his mind, realizing he’d heard it over the last few... his thoughts jumbled, particularly as she wiped his brows.
“Tea, freshly brewed, can be very hot. Burning, in fact.”
He’d nod but couldn’t with her ministrations. Her touch was soothing and he was so tired... His thoughts snapped to the present, willing him to re-focus.
“Yes, well, I appear to be quite bed-filthy and think a bath is needed. Please call George—”
The moment he said his manservant’s name, she stopped what she was doing and took the rag back across the room. Her suddenness surprised him. The lack of her touch annoyed him. He’d concentrate on her abandoning him when he mentioned George and not on her silently letting him know he reeked from the fever.
But nothing in the room changed. She stood near his clothes, re-stacking those left to the side, what few pieces there were. Puzzled, he tried to prop himself up to better address her only to discover he wore only the clothes he was born in. The realization knocked the wind out of his already spent energy and he fell back down. His thoughts scrambled. Reaching under the blanket, he did find his drawers, clammy and damp like the rest of him, but still in place. He finally crackled out another question.
“Lady Rose, please call George for me.”
She shuffled with the stack of clothes, or so it appeared at this distance, but remained silent.
“George!” He tried to call, but his voice was weak and broken.
“He’s not here, my lord.”
Riverdale frowned. “And where might he be? Wait, how is the snow outside? Did he stay with the horses? And if so, where is your aunt?”
“She’s gone. Your manservant, reluctant to leave you in distress, managed to get her out of here while the roads remained somewhat passable.”
“Passable? He’ll surely return.”
She poured a cup of some poison, he was assured, into a cup. “I did ask him to bring a physician. You were really quite ill.”
He blinked. “Yes, apparently. How long was I incapacitated?”
She walked over with a cup of steaming broth. The scent of it made his stomach growl. “You’ve been fighting a fever for the last two days.” Her answer was short and simple.
He took a sip, letting that information sink in. As the thought rolled through his mind, his insides twisted at the implications. “Two days? Why didn’t you keep them here?”
She walked over and tucked him back in, like a mother. Riverdale frowned, studying her face but saw a blank expression and that irritated him further.
“You were in need of attention. Aunt Clare was frightened she might catch your ailment and the longer it took to get her out of here, the higher her fear climbed.”
“You sent your aunt onward, in a snow storm, with my manservant?”
Again, she muttered about and ignored him, which only raised his ire.
“Lady Rose, why would you do that? What of your health?”
“You need not worry about that, Lord Riverdale. I had my bout with this a bit ago, so I’ll be fine.”
Now he did find the strength to sit up, hugging the blanket around his chest, though he gathered that protecting her immunity to his nakedness was past the point of concern. “So, perhaps I succumbed to this ailment due to your exposure.”
Chapter 5
ROSE DROPPED THE LADLE back into the pot before she realized what she’d done. Scooping it back up and stinging her fingertips in the process, she bit back the yelp and the anger that rose. How dare he! Blaming her for his ailment! The man truly knew no bounds!
Without looking at him, which she so wanted to because she’d made the awful discovery of just how handsome he was, even wrought in fever, she replied, “I think that is highly unlikely, my lord. I had my bout over two weeks ago and successfully recovered.”
He gave her a worried frown. “And who, pray tell, undressed me, since you sent George away? Or did he put that on his hurried list to do before he left?”
Her heart dropped to her stomach. She swallowed the knot in her throat, rolling her lips inward, a habit she realized she did when she was put on the spot and hoped he couldn’t see that.
“Jimmy performed the service.”
“Jimmy?” His frowned deepened. “You mean James? The stable boy?”
“Yes, exactly. Though James seemed a bit too formal, considering the task, so I’ve referred to him as Jimmy. It seems to suit him.” Of course, she remembered the boy shaking a bit when she called him to help. He wasn’t any taller than her and thin as a reed, complaining in an every so polite way that his only experience in undressing anything other than himself was a horse, despite her telling him he was more than able. She coaxed him with the chocolate she found in the cupboard that she could heat to warm his insides. Letting Riverdale soak from the fever in his fine clothes was unacceptable.
“You mean to say, the groom remained?”
“Of course. Your horse requires attention and my experience on that is not even measurable. My uncle didn’t allow Charlotte or me to tend the horses, thus your beautiful steed would be in a bad way, I fear.”
Riverdale gave a reluctant frown. “Yes, well, most ladies are not trained in stable duties.”
“Here, drink this. It will improve your strength.” She handed him a cup of the tea. He’d been battling that fever for the last two days and it was very clear how that drained him so she held the cup to aid his grip and did her best to prop up his back to make it easier.
Inside, her stomach flipped several times. How was she to explain her decision to help him when, even still weak, his hackles flared. The fact that she and that young groomsman were the only ones to care for him put things in a dark light, she knew, but the alternative for him was far worse. She prayed to God he didn’t overly jump to conclusions...
“That doesn’t explain why you stayed,” he stated once through with his drink. His shoulders stiffened under her support so she slowly stepped away.
Putting the cup to the side, she steeled herself. “What do you need me to say? You are better and well taken care of. Why do you proceed to argue so?”
On that, he seemed to glare at her. “Because, as you stated so clearly, that I was incapacitated for two days and you were here, which ruins your reputation.”
He broke into another coughing fit. She cringed. Memories of that came rushing back. She’d been prone to coughing for a week. But slowly, his accusation of her reputation being destroyed seeped into her thoughts. In her view, he was wrong. But what if he wasn’t?
Throwing that question aside, she raced to his side, grabbed his right arm and yanked it straight up as he coughed. The movement distracted him, to the point his face turned red as he glared at her but silence ruled. She breathed a sigh of relief and released the wrist that she had been holding and as his arm fell to his side, she caught the odd look on his face and noted the one raised eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak when the tavern’s door swung open and the whirl of winter blew into the room, sending a draft of icy cold inward.
The groom walked in, stopped abruptly as he caught Rose standing next to the bed, Riverdale sitting upright, his bare chest slightly visible and her releasing his wrist. Inwardly, Rose groaned but swallowed hard and pasted a smile on her face.
“Jimmy! Look, Lord Riverdale has finally defeated the fever!”
The boy looked startled, or perhaps that was a shiver she witnessed. He stomped the snow off his shoes and pant legs in a frantic attempt to look presentable.
“Good news indeed, my lady.” He pulled his hat from his head and gave a slight bow toward the lord. “My lord, tis good to see you feeling better.”
Rose noticed his fingers wrapped around the brim of his hat, smashing it severely. Riverdale didn’t move. Instead he grinned.
“Good to see you, too, young man. How is Thunder?”
The boy’s face lit up. “He’s good, my lord. All rubbed down and nestled with straw to keep his stall warm. Found a might of hay, ‘nuff to keep him full.”
“Good.” Riverdale’s gaze narrowed a bit. “Tell me, lad, where have you been staying through this storm?”
Jimmy darted a look at Rose and she tried to give him a curt nod, but knew the boy was too young to cover her on this.
“In the stable, my lord, to make sure Thunder was safe.”
“But you’ve been available to Lady Rose when needed?”
“Yes, my lord. Been keeping the water coming and firewood filled.” He shot her another terse look. “Helped her when she needed aid with you, my lord. Had to get your bed here and help get you into it. Not right for a lady to be doing all that.”
“No, of course it isn’t. Good boy, Jimmy. Well done.” He paused. “Lady Rose told me we’ve been here three days.”
She opened her mouth to protest. It’d been two, she wanted to remind him, but Jimmy answered.
“Nearly three now, my lord.”
She wanted to scream but bit her tongue and turned back to her watered stew.
“Looks like the storm be winding down, my lord.”
“Excellent.” Riverdale glared at her. “Now, Jimmy, would you find my shirt and help me with it?”
The lad looked at her. She nodded to the right where the white cotton shirt hung.
“I did my best to clean it, Lord Riverdale. Your fever had made it a bit unsightly. Again, I apologize, but laundry isn’t in my repertoire either.” The shirt had been a soaking mess after the first wave of fever broke. Jimmy helped her remove it, since Riverdale had been too ill to help her get it off. She’d soaked it and prayed it’d be presentable, since his trunk remained on the carriage. Now, she cringed slightly since she didn’t think it was too bad, but it wasn’t hers to wear.
He sighed. “Now, I feel a bit more dressed.”
She gave him a smile. It did make him look better. “You look almost the picture of health, my lord.”
“I think at this point, you might consider calling me by my given name.”
“I’m not sure we are that close, my lord.”
“Wesley.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My Christian name is Wesley.”
She shifted, biting her lower lip. First names made sense, as she had cared for him in a more intimate way than society allowed, but it made her shiver. To call him that could lead to more personal privileges she wasn’t comfortable giving.
As if to break the heavy air that had descended over his statement, he continued. “The next step is for us to pack up and continue our journey.”
She shoved a bowl and a piece of bread into the groom’s hands. “Yes, true, but all we have is your steed, my lord. I’m doubtful he’ll want you and me and Jimmy on his back to travel onward. Besides, you’re not in any state to be outside at this time, let alone riding.”
It didn’t take a moment to see the anger flare in his eyes.
“I’ll not be jailed to my bed, my lady.”
“That’s not how I meant it,” she snapped without realizing how loud she was until out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jimmy slip out the back door. She frowned, working to bring her tone down. “But another day of rest will do a world of good. That fever is very consuming of strength and energy.”
His lips thinned for a second only to have the light in his eyes bloom. “If you say I need another day to rest, all right then. We can discuss our marriage arrangements while we wait.”
Her stomach flipped. Marriage? She licked her lips in an anxious moment that he watched with intense gaze under hooded eyes. As she prepared to object to the idea, he kissed her.
Chapter 6
LADY CLARE MILTON PEERED out the frost-covered window, eying for the ill-begotten tavern where she’d left her niece with that wayward lord. She’d spent the last three days in a fret over the state of affairs that had bloomed, in her mind and others, on the situation of Rose. Leaving Lord Riverdale behind and rushing off as they did had been perilous on the snow-covered roads, but it had saved her from coming down with that dreadful disease. She’d be forever thankful to her niece for that salvation, sure as she was in life itself that if she’d contracted the fever death would have come with it. Rose must have known her fear as well—the girl had survived it but she was young, whereas Clare knew the years were catching up with her. That day, she’d spent the entire escaping ride inhaling from her lavender-scented handkerchief, praying to the Lord for salvation. Then as the snow deepened, she was stuck and so was her niece.
“Lady Clare, I’m sure it will be fine. You yourself stated Lady Rose has already had this illness. Do not worry yourself,” Dr. Townsend stated calmly.
Clare nodded. “I hope you are correct.”
The carriage turned and now, she could see the place. Smoke rose from the chimney, so all must be well, she decided and sat back.
But she wasn’t prepared for the scene when she arrived.
The vehicle slid to a stop on the packed snow surface and George jumped from his seat next to the driver, all bundled up in wool, to lower the step. When the door opened, the brisk freezing wind invaded the carriage interior and made her shiver.
“My, George, look at the snow! I don’t think any of the naysayers claimed it would be this bad this winter.”
“No, my lady, they did not,” he agreed dryly, helping her off the carriage.
At the door, he knocked and then opened the door. Clare walked in and stopped immediately. Her niece was sitting on the bedside near his lordship, who lounged, only wearing his shirtsleeves. And they were entirely too close! She was aghast.
“Rose!”
THE BLAST OF COLD AIR and the abrupt tone of her aunt, calling her name as if she were sticking her hands into a pie cooling on the shelf, threw Rose’s already jumbled mind into a whirl.
“Aunt Clare!” Rose nearly fell to the floor while muttering the automatic reply. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Riverdale had a half smirk on his face.
“I knew leaving you to care for Lord Riverdale was a mistake! Only a snowstorm kept me away this long, and apparently,” her aunt appraised. “It was too late! He’s only half dressed and you’re kissing him! Lord Riverdale, I demand you answer to this, this, taking of my niece’s innocence!”
“My intentions, exactly,” he replied coolly.
Rose stood still, totally unprepared and confused.
The morning had started simply. Riverdale woke, appearing much more himself, or what she decided must be his usual self—demanding they prepare to leave, that he felt fine despite the occasional cough and determined though when he tried to sit up and put his shirt straight, he’d turned lightheaded from lack of strength. Despite that fall back, he’d ordered Jimmy to saddle Thunder and the poor boy near stumbled, shoving the rest of the bread in his mouth and trying to get out the door.
Hoping to dissuade him so he could rest a bit more and be up to battling the cold, Rose had a bowl of warm water in her hands with a linen to wash his face and neck. Instantly, when she started to cajole him that it was in his better interest to rest, he took the wrist of her hand with the rag and pulled her closer. She couldn’t stop him. It wasn’t forced but a gentle tug that she found, staring into his emerald green eyes with that wayward lock of blond hair that resisted being confined back made him one of the most handsome men she knew, she couldn’t refuse.
He smiled. “For a nurse, you are most attentive but entirely too beautiful not to kiss.”
And before she could say a word, he kissed her.
She wasn’t expecting this. Just the day before, he’d had a fever. He had improved and thus wanted something and she was the only woman here for him to kiss. That made her almost laugh, but it did open her lips and since his tongue had been tracing the line between them, it invaded immediately, colliding with hers as their mouths joined.
His kiss was very seductive, luring her to want more. Not even Lord Willowbend had kissed her like this and they had been almost engaged! So the intricate play of his lips and tongue coaxed the curiosity out of her. She met his kiss and took a bit of her own. His lips, soft and pressed against hers, were a surprise, mainly because she never thought a man would have soft skin, let alone there. It made her press into him as she tested this deepened kiss and realized she liked it.
He moaned, softly but she heard him. Or was that her? It made his intimate dance with her tongue more inviting and more pressing. If only...
Then the blast of winter interrupted her thoughts, though physically, her body denied the intrusion. That was, until her aunt squealed her name. Shocked, she pulled back too quickly, lost her balance and flayed to keep from hitting the floor. Guilt flooded her senses and she fought to throw the blame off. He had kissed her, not the other way round.
“Aunt Clare,” she started, trying hard to contain her tone. She stood, shooting a glare at the viscount, who had swiftly donned a jacket to look more presentable. “You left because we didn’t want you to catch this sickness. He was in no state to travel, burning with fever like he was, and you knew that was true. Even if the coachman had stayed, who would have been our escort? There really was no choice. And it was snowing, if you recall.”
“Yes, yes,” the elder woman murmured as she stood firm, like a pillar, sending a judging look at the two of them. “You two apparently have come to know each other well, I see.”
“This is the first morning he’s been well enough to return to his roguish ways,” she stated coldly, and grabbed the bowl to take back to the kitchen.
“Lady Clare, I assure you, your niece has been nothing short of an angel during my distress. Truth has been, the fever had a sound beating on me until the last few hours.”
“Yes, the viscount has been ravaged with this illness. Precisely why you could not stay.” She wiped her hands after wringing the rag. “I had the groom, Jimmy, to help me.”
Her aunt’s eyes widened further. “Yes, I recall. You’ve been here, alone, with a gentleman and only a boy to chaperone. A boy who’d only report to the lord here in.” She spun to Riverdale. “I expect you will make this right.”
