Baron of Clubs: Lords of Scandal Page 6

  He enjoyed watching Lizzie rise to the occasion. She’d acquired their rooms and then placed herself under his arm once again.

  The innkeeper gave them a questioning glance to which Colton replied, “I’ll need the constable and the doctor as well. And food for my wife.”

  They began walking up the stairs as Lizzie gave him a long look. “I should have thought of the doctor, at the very least.”

  Did she think she hadn’t done enough? She’d done more for him than anyone else in a very long time. In fact, he could get used to this.

  Using his uninjured arm, her hooked her waist, pulling her close.

  He sat in a chair while she stood over him and the effect as she leaned into him was that her bosom pressed to his cheek. He could get used to that too.

  She wrapped her arms about his neck, her cheek coming down on the crown of his head. “I’m worried,” she whispered. “That’s a nasty cut.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He squeezed her tighter. “Truly.”

  “Humor me,” she whispered. “Until I ventured to your house in London in the dead of night, I’d never done a thing on my own. Never gone anywhere, never experienced anything.”

  He pulled back just enough to look up at her. Was she worried what might happen to her if he died? A woman had every right to be concerned. “Your brother hunts us even now. I’m sure of it. He’ll be here before I’m dead.”

  She shuddered. “You can’t die. We’ve only just gotten to know each other.”

  “True.” He touched her cheek, wanting to kiss her. It had been a long time since someone had depended on him. He’d forgotten how that felt. He was both humbled and frightened. What if he let her down? It wouldn’t be the first time.

  And how had he not realized that marrying would mean that he’d feel this way? It wasn’t just lust and making babies. It was a commitment.

  And caring.

  He held her tighter. “I told you I’d never let anything happen to you, didn’t I?”

  She looked away with a frown. “You did.”

  “You know where the gold is. You stay right here and write to your brother. He’ll come.”

  “I could hire a companion. Travel back to London.” Her chin rose up. “I did help fight today. I’m strong in my own way.”

  His hands splayed out on her back. “Of course, you are. But I wouldn’t recommend going back through the village where we hired the thieves. I didn’t kill them all and you’d be in my carriage.”

  She shook her head. “I could never be like Arabella, could I? Men fear her. She’s lived on her own for years.”

  “Did you want to be like her?”

  Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know. Not exactly. I just want to be…well…myself. Or the person I’m supposed to be. I know that doesn’t make sense, but for so long, I didn’t feel like I grew at all. I couldn’t come out in society, I couldn’t go to school. I just…”

  He understood. “You’ve been stuck in the same role you were in as a girl, and you’ve been ready to shed it for some time.”

  She smiled down at him. “Yes. Precisely. And now that I’ve done it, I’m afraid I may have taken too big a first step. What if I wasn’t ready for all this? What if I’ve been treated like a girl all this time because I wasn’t ready to be grown up?”

  He shook his head thinking of the woman who’d knocked on his door. The one who’d touched him with such confidence, helped fight off a thief. “I wish you could see you the way I do. You’d see an intelligent and capable woman.”

  She stared down at him, her lip trembling as she held his gaze. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  A knock sounded at the door and Lizzie stepped away to answer the knock and let the doctor into the room.

  Two hours later, he’d been stitched, given a report to the constable, and now lay tucked in bed.

  Lizzie sat on the edge of his mattress, brushing back his hair in the way he’d always wished for when he was a small boy.

  Her ministrations, the gentleness of her caregiving felt even better than he’d imagined, especially since he’d never known this kind of affection when growing up.

  His eyes drifted closed as he captured her hand and laid a kiss on her palm. “Go to bed, love. We’ve a busy day travelling tomorrow. We likely should have driven tonight, but after today, I thought we could both use a rest.”

  She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I could stay here with you.”

  “Tempting.” He laced his fingers through hers. “But I think we both need sleep and if you’re in bed with me…”

  Her chin tucked into her chest. “Oh.”

  “Go to bed, love. Leave the door between our rooms open. I’ll call if I need anything.”

  She stood then and with a final brush of her fingers to his forehead, she left the room.

  Colton sighed as she disappeared. His body ached, not with desire but exhaustion and pain. Part of him wanted to call her back and curl his body around hers.

  Was she worried that she was still too young? He’d like nothing more than to lay his head in her lap and beg for scraps of affection.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lizzie woke to a guttural cry.

  Sitting up in bed, she tried to first discern what she’d heard. Then, where she was.

  The cry came again, and she bounded from bed, her body tense and her mind attempted to catch up. What should she do?

  But then she caught sight of the open connecting door in the dim fire light.

  Colton.

  Scurrying to his room, she stopped at the edge of the bed.

  His skin had taken on a waxy hue, his body restlessly moving in small twitches.

  She reached out a hand, laying it on his forehead, and nearly gasped at the heat that radiated from him.

  He had a fever.

  Fear thrummed through her veins, pulsing with her rapidly beating heart. Reaching for the basin next to the bed, she soaked a cloth in the cool water and then began to bathe his skin.

  Her breath caught as she twisted his face from side to side. “No.”

  “No?” she asked, pausing in her ministrations. “It’ll do you good.”

  “No. Mary.” He lifted a hand, knocking hers away.

  Mary? Who was Mary? “Colton,” she cooed softly, ignoring the sick feeling churning the contents of her stomach. “Let me take care of you.”

  “I should take care of you,” he croaked. “I should have never let him hurt you.”

  “Who hurt Mary?” She started wiping again, the repetitive movement helping to calm her nerves.

  “He did,” he repeated more forcefully. “Always him.”

  “Who?”

  “My father,” he answered. “Selfish bastard.”

  Her hand stilled again. Who was Mary and how had the old baron hurt this woman? “You’re all right,” she whispered as she parted his shirt, wiping at his chest. She knew that cut was nasty, but for a fever to have set in so quickly…

  She winced as kept working.

  She paused only to stoke the fire and then change the bandages on his arm. Close to dawn, she climbed into the bed with him, pressing her own body to his, the heat of him near stealing her breath.

  But he settled her close, his body growing restless as he did. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  Was he talking to her or to Mary?

  As she looked at his face, relaxing into sleep, she whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to you either.”

  Then she wrapped him in her arms and fell asleep, pressed to his side.

  When she woke a few hours later, the sun streamed into the windows and hazel eyes stared at her. “You’re awake.”

  She blinked the sleep slowly from her eyes. “So are you.”

  “I am.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like hell,” he answered with a small smile.

  “I’m not surprised,” she answered, running a hand along his skin to find it had cooled.

  “But I seem to remember you bathing me in the night.”

  She stopped, resting her hand on his chest. “You had a fever.”

  “Thank you.” His voice rattled and rasped.

  She sat up then, moving from the bed and pouring him a glass of water. He took it taking a large swallow. “Better?”

  He nodded, handing it back. “No one has cared for me in a very long time.”

  “Not since your father?” Her voice broke a little on last word, her fears and questions from the night before coming back.

  “I told you already. Never him.”

  She nodded. Did she dare ask her questions from the night before? Her gaze searched his pale face. Now hardly seemed the time. “I’ll dress and fetch us breakfast.”

  He started to sit up. “I’ll be ready to go shortly. I—”

  “Go?” she asked, turning back to him.

  Colton winced in obvious pain. “Yes. Go. We’re still attempting to beat your brother to Gretna Green, aren’t we?”

  She drew up to her full height. Colton was likely correct. If they truly wished to elope, they ought to leave. But this was not about her and Reginald, this involved Colton’s health. And when you cared for someone… “If Reginald catches us, I’ll deal with him. But you need to recover. A day of rest is in order.” She looked down at Colton. She really did care about him. More than her own worries or issues.

  “You’ll deal with him?”

  She smiled then. “I will. I mean I know I didn’t before we left, but that was before and this is now.”

  He reached out a hand and after a moment, she slipped her fingers into his. “I’m proud of you.”

  Those words made her chest swell with pride. No one ever said those words to her.

  “Lay down with me
just another minute. Since we’re not leaving, we’ve time.”

  She did, slipping back under the covers and resuming her spot against his side. She laid her head on his chest, sighing into him. “Do you think Reginald will ever see me like that?”

  He chuckled. “I know he’s never going to see you the same way again, that’s for certain.”

  That made her smile. “Relationships can be very complicated, can’t they?”

  “They can.”

  “Are you comfortable?” she asked looking up at him.

  “I am. Though, I’d like to propose that we choose a plan in between yours and mine. What about a half day of travel? Any sign of the fever and we’ll stop.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think—”

  He kissed her then. Long and lingering, the touch made her weak. “Your concern is more appreciated than I could ever tell you, but let me care for you a bit too.”

  She sighed. “Are you certain you’re up for it?”

  “On my honor,” he replied with a small smile. “Big breakfast first and only half day. I promise.”

  She gave a nod as she tossed the covers back again. “Will you need help dressing?”

  “Most definitely,” he replied with a wicked grin. “And I might need you to feed me too.”

  Colton struggled for the words that described the feelings bubbling inside him.

  Lizzie had been willing to forfeit her great break for independence in order to see him properly healed.

  She’d been willing to sacrifice her own agenda for him.

  That had always been a fantasy of his. Somewhere deep down, he’d wished for someone to care for him enough to give something of themselves.

  The thought unsettled as much as it pleased him.

  He’d been alone for so long… it was one thing to take a wife, another to depend on that person.

  But as Lizzie carefully put his shirt on, being achingly gentle with his arm, he knew she’d become crucial to his happiness.

  Yes, he wanted her in his bed. But more than that, he needed her by his side.

  His life had been all rough edges and hard angles.

  Lizzie softened his world in ways he’d never imagined. Like a fire on a cold night, he was drawn to her warmth, her light. A welcome beacon, he could hardly tear his gaze away.

  They ate and once again climbed into his infernal carriage. Which now had a few bullet holes to give it character.

  Lizzie settled in one corner of her seat and then patted the bench next to her.

  Despite his reservations, he didn’t hesitate. Laying down on the bench, he rested his head on her lap.

  They would wed.

  And she’d be in his bed. She would be his.

  Whatever happened with his heart after that was beyond his control. He kept promising to keep her safe, but he knew the real reason he repeated the words over and over. He worried he’d fail her.

  She began stroking his hair again. “Do you want to hear about the time that Reginald stole the neighbor’s chickens and blamed it on a wolf? Apparently, he’d heard of them in stories and didn’t realize an animal like that hadn’t existed in England for hundreds of years.”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  He loved her stories of a happy family. He’d begun to wonder if those sorts of relationships were a myth much like the wolf in her tale. And now that he knew they were real, he still wondered if they were meant for people like him. Ones who’d only known hardness and heartbreak.

  He settled deeper into her lap. Despite the rocking carriage, he felt relaxed. He could ride like this for hours. Would she consent to riding for a full day? He didn’t think his health would be impacted and it would get them that much closer to Gretna Green and their wedding.

  She finished a story and, launching into another, her fingers dancing along his skin. He stopped her hand, lifting her palm to his lips. After he’d kissed her soft skin, he began working on each fingertip.

  Her breath caught. “I’ve a new idea.”

  Did it involve touching him? His body clenched. “I always love your ideas.”

  “Let’s make up a story.”

  Colton frowned. “That’s not really my area of expertise.”

  She gave him a playful smile but worry lined the edges of her eyes. “I know we eloped for very practical reasons, but what if we added some romance?”

  “Romance?”

  She ran a fingertip down the length of his nose. “We were sweethearts or close childhood friends.” Her brows lifted as she paused.

  He stared up at her, his own drawing together. “Sweethearts?”

  “Or, I could have been under persecution—”

  “You were being persecuted by a band of thieves. It’s the only way I was able to justify taking you away from London. Otherwise, I should have stayed and properly courted you.”

  “Right,” she said a thoughtful expression passing over her features. “You wanted to save me.”

  “I did.” What the hell was going on?

  “How many women have you saved or attempted to save in your life?”

  “What?” But a trickle of something unpleasant ran down his spine. He sat up then, wincing with a bit of pain. “Lizzie. What are all these questions about?”

  She nibbled at her lip, guilt making her shoulders lift and her chin tuck. “Well…”

  “I don’t go around saving women like some crusader.”

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  “Then what are you asking?”

  She pressed her hands together. “I’m asking about Mary.”

  He would not have been more shocked if she’d dumped icy water over his head. The last thing he wished to do was tell her about one of the greatest failures of his life. How could she ever trust him after that? “Mary?”

  She nodded. “You talked about her last night. Who is she?”

  “Bloody bullocks,” he muttered, scraping his hand through his hair.

  Lizzie looked down at her folded hands. “I’ve upset you.”

  He couldn’t deny it. He wasn’t ready to tell Lizzie about how he’d let down the only other woman who’d ever been important to him. How could she marry him after she learned about Mary? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She pressed her hands together, then she brought them to her face as though praying. “Can you at least tell me what she has to do with your father?”

  The blood drained from his face, he actually felt himself go pale. “My father?” he whispered. What the hell had he said last night?

  Lizzie looked at him. “Please don’t be upset. But I’ve told you all about my life and I know so little of yours. Were you in love before me? Do you love her still?”

  Colton shook his head. He had to tell Lizzie something. Too much and he might frighten her away, but too little, and she’d think him in love with another woman. “Mary was my sister. Half-sister to be precise.” The words fell from his lips like stones sinking into a river.

  “Half-sister? Your father was married twice?”

  “No. Just the once,” he answered digging the heel of his palm into the socket of his eye. “Mary was a bastard.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, the breathy sound of the single syllable expressing a breadth of emotion. Sadness, regret, understanding.

  He leaned back against the seat, his comfort of this carriage ride long gone. “She died at the age of fifteen. I was seventeen.”

  That didn’t even begin to explain what happened. His own guilt. His anger at his father. But he didn’t have it in him to explain now. He wondered if he ever would. “I’m tired, Lizzie.”

  “Of course,” she said, opening her arms. “Lay your head back in my lap.”

  He did. And it was nice. But as memories of the past swirled in his thoughts, so did the knowledge that he’d hardly shared anything with Lizzie. Not really.

  The spell was broken and as the carriage rumbled on, he wondered how Lizzie would react if she knew the truth.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They settled into the next inn, Lizzie both relieved to be out of the carriage and glad that Colton’s fever had not reappeared.

  But as she settled into bed, she…well…missed him.

  She’d spent the latter part of the night before curled against him and all day with his head in her lap.

  And then there was the story he’d hinted at. So full of sadness, a lump filled her throat, and she only knew the barest details. What had happened to Mary and how had that affected Colton?