Enchanting Pleasures (42 page)

Too late, Quill understood that he had never really meant his earlier threats.

Gabby climbed out of bed and picked up her night rail from the floor. In the heat of anger, she had lost all self-consciousness.

“You
are
beautiful, Gabby.” His voice was hoarse.

She looked at him composedly. Then she pulled the night rail over her head. “I will never be able to trust you again, and no marriage could be successful in those circumstances.” There was a bitter edge in the way she repeated his words.

“They—your lie was different,” Quill said, rather desperately. “You might have killed me with that potion of yours.”

“And you might have broken my heart,” Gabby answered politely. “After all, I thought myself in love with Peter. But you didn’t give a damn about
me
, did you? I was just an awkward, plump heiress whom your father dredged up somewhere. I gather I should count myself grateful that I wasn’t simply jilted and sent back to India. After all, unlike Peter, you didn’t need my money.”

Quill searched for an answer. “I don’t see that you showed much concern for me when you gave me a deadly potion.”

“The potion is not harmful in small doses,” Gabby repeated. “Would you like to see for yourself?” As he watched, she opened a drawer and pulled out a tiny brown bottle. “I gave you precisely half of this small bottle. There is not enough poison here to harm anyone.”

“I doubt that,” Quill said, his guilt sharpening his tone. “How many times has Sudhakar administered this medicine? Hundreds?”

“No.”

“How many times?”

“Twice,” Gabby admitted.

“So based on the fact that two people were not injured by Sudhakar’s dose of poison, you decided I was an appropriate candidate for the third experiment?”

Gabby could feel hysteria rising in her throat. “Oh, what right have you to be so angry?” she cried. “You are cured! We made love and you didn’t have a migraine afterward. Now you can make love to those concubines you talked of—go ahead! I cured you!”

“I am angry because my wife showed a reckless disregard for my well-being. You know, I received a letter from your father warning me that you had so-called ‘nefarious plans for my life.’”

Her stomach clenched into an instant knot. “You have been corresponding with my father?”

“He wrote me a few letters.”

She tried to match his careless tone. “Oh? What did he say? And why didn’t you mention the letters to me?”

“I thought he was out of his mind. The way he described you—”

“I’m certain I can fill in the adjectives,” Gabby said coolly. “I had no idea you were sharing confidences with my father.”

“Perhaps I should have paid more attention to his warnings,” Quill said, his voice dangerously quiet.

Gabby finally lost her temper entirely. “Yes, you should have! Because you and my father are two of a kind. You are childish, whining, stupid
men!”
she shouted at the top of her lungs. “You made an absurd vow not to take medicines, which you adhered to out of pure stubbornness. And now—and now that you’ve been cured, you stand around and complain, rather than saying thank you!”

Quill’s eyes flared. “Stupid, am I? At least I haven’t tried to kill anyone in the recent past!”

“I didn’t try to kill you!” Gabby shrieked. “This medicine is harmless! Harmless!”

“Yes?” Quill said, his voice low but razor-sharp. “I don’t see you volunteering to take poison! It’s easy enough to sneak a so-called harmless poison to someone else.”

Gabby met his eyes, and then with a lightning-quick movement she twisted off the top and poured the medicine into her mouth, just as Quill lunged forward and knocked the bottle to the floor.

“Too late,” Gabby said defiantly, her chin jutting forward. “I am not afraid to try the medicine, and I did
not
try to kill you.”

Quill had gone dead-white. “My God, Gabby, what have you done?” he whispered. “Where is Sudhakar?”

She shrugged. She walked past him and sat on the side of the bed. She was feeling a bit embarrassed by her own dramatics. “On his way back to India.”

“That medicine was measured for a grown man, wasn’t it, Gabby?”

“I’m as big as a grown man, almost,” she said.

“Hardly,” Quill said.

“I don’t mind feeling drowsy for a day or so,” Gabby said, “as long as you don’t keep saying I tried to kill you. Because I didn’t.” But her tone wasn’t very defiant anymore. She had a terrible feeling that her temper had gotten the better of her once again.

“Do you know what vessel Sudhakar was planning to take, Gabby?”

“No,” she replied vaguely. “But he’s likely well out to sea by now. Don’t worry. He said the dose wears off in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” She felt as if her eyes were crossing. She could see two or three Quills. He was clutching her hands so tightly that it hurt.

Suddenly he threw open the bedroom door, shouting for Codswallop. She could hear him as if from a long way off, instructing the butler to find Sudhakar if he was still in London. She curled her fingers into the edge of the coverlet. She was starting to feel dizzy.

It felt like hours before Quill suddenly reappeared before her. She gasped as his face swung close to hers.

“The drug affects your eyesight,” Quill said. “Remember? I thought you had a halo last night.”

“This was quite idiotic of me,” Gabby said, her voice a reedy thread. “Wasn’t it, Quill?” She clutched the counterpane tighter. She felt as if she were on the deck of a ship as it listed in a storm. “I’m sorry I behaved so badly.”

He had her hands in his again and was looking down at them. “We were both idiots,” he said heavily. “I goaded you. I know you didn’t try to kill me, Gabby. I was angry.

“And you were right.” He was massaging her hands now. “I was stupid, stupid,
stupid
to argue with you. I should have just thanked you.”

“Not as stupid as I am,” Gabby admitted. “I’m glad Sudhakar has left. He has always scolded me for being impulsive. He didn’t want to give you the medicine,” she added.

“What did he tell you about the medicine? Can you remember anything?”

“No,” Gabby said vaguely. “He said it wasn’t dangerous in small doses.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.” She giggled.

“What is it?”

“I think your ears are growing, Quill! You look like a bunny!” Her eyes grew round. “Look at your nose!” She giggled again.

Quill sighed. When Quill had taken the medicine, it had transformed him into a cheerful, if incoherent, drunk. He could only hope its effect on Gabby was as mild. It was going to be a long night.

But it wasn’t bad. After a few hours during which Gabby alternately giggled and yawned, she fell into a deep sleep.

Quill sat by the bed, utterly discouraged. How could they have come to this pass? What kind of marriage did they have, when his stubbornness had led her to deceive him, and then their quarrel had such terrible consequences?

Why was he such an utter idiot about the matter? Why hadn’t he thrown his arms around Gabby and made love to her all day to celebrate his cure?

He kept looking at his wife. She hardly stirred, but lay like a statue on the bed. Surely she would be all right. He looked at the clock yet again. Only four hours had passed since Gabby took the medicine, and she had said twenty-four would pass before the effects wore off.

He was still sitting there when an elderly Indian man pushed open the bedchamber door.

“Lord Dewland,” he said quietly.

Quill started and then stood up, not letting go of Gabby’s hand. “Sir—” He stopped. It was impossible to explain the foolish argument that had led to this situation.

But Sudhakar seemed to expect no details. He walked over to the bed and took Gabby’s wrist in his hand. Quill’s heart sank when he saw how limp her little hand looked.

“How long has she been sleeping?”

“For around four—almost five hours,” Quill said.

Sudhakar said nothing, but it seemed to Quill that his jaw tightened.

“Is that a bad sign?”

Their eyes met.

“No!” Quill almost shouted it.

Sudhakar bent his head. “I doubt she will survive. This medicine is a potent poison. I told her so. She has taken too much for a person of her size and then fallen asleep too soon.”

“I don’t understand,” Quill said numbly. “Why would that matter?”

“The medicine is made from the poison of a tree frog,” Sudhakar explained. “The frog puts its prey into a deep sleep before eating them. That deep sleep is invariably fatal for humans.”

“Wake her up!” Quill brushed Sudhakar aside and took Gabby’s shoulders. Ignoring Sudhakar’s protest, he shook her—but she shook like a wet rag, and her head listed awkwardly to one side.

“Give her something,” he commanded. “A remedy.”

“There is no remedy for this poison,” Sudhakar said. “You must live with the consequences. As must I.”

“Then why did you let her have it?” Quill said savagely. “You knew she was impulsive. You should have guessed she might take it herself!”

Sudhakar looked at him. “Now, why would that occur to me? I saw a young woman consumed with anxiety for her husband, prepared to ruin her marriage in order to save him further suffering. I saw nothing self-destructive about her.”

“She thought it was harmless,” Quill whispered harshly. “She had no idea. You shouldn’t have given it to her.”

“Do you think she is a child? She is a grown woman. Her rash actions are her own.”

It was only when Quill fixed him with a brutal gaze that he realized that Sudhakar was also suffering. “We
must
do something,” he said desperately.

Sudhakar turned away. “It is beyond my skill.” The words were wrung from deep in his chest. “I have loved two children in my life. And now Gabrielle will join Johore in death. I failed each of them.”

Quill looked up at him. “She told me you were an expert with poisons.”

“But this is not an Indian poison,” Sudhakar said. “If there is a cure, I do not know it. I am a stupid old man, unable to cure my loved ones.”

Quill barely stopped himself from leaping at the old man’s throat. “Think,” he insisted. “Why do the patients die? Gabby looks as if she is merely sleeping.”

“I am not certain,” Sudhakar admitted. “They live for a few days, sleeping all the while, and they do not wake up. I have never seen it myself. But the man who gave me the poison warned of its consequences. Stimulants are not effective in waking the patient.”

“There’s nothing wrong with sleeping,” Quill said uncertainly. “A person could sleep for a week without harm, could he not?”

Sudhakar frowned. “If he had water—” He stopped. “Perhaps the patients die not because of the poison but because they lack water.”

“Fine,” Quill said. “We’ll give Gabby water.” He took a glass by the bed and held up her head, but the water poured back out of her mouth.

“It’s no good,” Sudhakar moaned. “She cannot swallow. No, I am doomed to watch both of my children die. My Johore died in pain. At least little Gabrielle will go in peace.”

Quill ignored him. He was trying to think. Finally he rang the bell and demanded a spoon from Codswallop. When he had the spoon, he held Gabby’s head up and spooned water into her mouth. It ran out the side. He tried again, and again, and again, until her night rail was drenched.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tired eyes met his. “It’s no use,” Sudhakar said gently. “She cannot swallow.”

“No!” Quill bellowed.

“I felt the same way when Johore worsened, just before he died,” Sudhakar said. “We were isolated—no one in the village would even come to the door because of the cholera. But Gabrielle came. She came down from the big house, and she brought me English medicine. She cared more for Johore than for her own safety.”

Quill looked at his drenched wife. He put a hand on her cheek. “She would do that,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” Sudhakar agreed. “She will do anything for the people she loves. And she loves you, Viscount Dewland. You are a lucky man. She loved you too much to see you in pain. And I believe that she would not begrudge what has happened.”

“You don’t know,” Quill said hoarsely. “The things I said—”

The hand on his shoulder tightened. “I imagine you quarreled and Gabrielle took the medicine when she was in a temper. She always had a temper to match her heart, that one. But she loved you, and she would be happy to know that your headaches are cured. For you are cured, aren’t you?”

Quill couldn’t even look up; his vision was blurred by tears. “What does it matter?” he said hoarsely. “Without Gabby …”