Heaven Made (15 page)

He began to stand but, turned a shade paler and sat back
down. A sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead, and Ford pulled out a rumpled
handkerchief to wipe his face.

"I’m afraid I may need a hand getting to my room, Mrs.
Tremaine. Maybe you should get Roland to come help."

"Of course," Sabrina turned to leave, but before she
moved an inch, Ford had collapsed and slipped unconscious to the floor.

"Roland!" she called up the stairs before sinking
to the ground and cradling Ford’s head in her lap. "Oh dear, what have you
done to yourself," she murmured, stroking his sweating brow with a
tenderness she didn’t realize she felt for this man. "And how am I going
to manage living under this roof, without falling in love with you?"

Chapter Ten

Ford could feel the coolness on his face. It felt so good,
like a lover’s caress. He wanted to stay there, in the dark quiet place, with
the gentle soothing touch making him feel comfortable and cared for. A woman’s
gentle touch, like his mother’s, but he knew it wasn’t his mother. It felt more
intimate than that.

"That’s right, young man. I’m not able to nurse your
aches and pains anymore. But this woman can easily take my place, and more."

"Mama?" Ford asked the question in his head. He
might have muttered it aloud as well, he couldn’t be sure. "Is that you?"

"What did he say," a voice that seemed faraway
asked. Definitely not his mother.

"They can’t hear me, son." This time it was
Catherine Northcliffe’s voice, deep and distinctive. "I’m watching out for
you now. Piper is with me too. Don’t worry about her anymore. You have a new
family you need to take care of."

"What do you mean? A new family? Mama?" Ford knew
he was dreaming, but it seemed so real. He couldn’t quite manage to overcome
the desire to talk to his mother and sister. "Piper?"

"Piper is busy with other things. She helps the sick
children find comfort without their parents until they’re reunited. But I’m
here, my son. And I want to set you free, I want to give you permission to let
go. You don’t have to—" the voice of his mother was fading now.

"I don’t understand," Ford mumbled, thrashing
around, trying to wake up from this fantastic dream. If it was a dream.

"Listen to me," Catherine pleaded. But he could no
longer hear her voice as he plunged back into oblivion.

****

"He’s coming around," a woman’s voice said from
what seemed like a hundred miles away. "Get Mrs. Tremaine."

Sabrina. She hadn’t been a dream. Ford remembered her and
feared she wasn’t real, but maybe this was still part of the nightmare. He was
so hot, burning up, yet strangely chilled. Finally he managed to drag his eyes
open. His lids felt like bricks as he struggled to focus on his surroundings.
He was in his own room, and there was a bright light streaming in from the
window. Daylight, he mused. At least he knew that much. His head throbbed and
his throat burned. Ford looked around for water, but he was too weak to get it
himself. His arms felt heavy as logs.

"Water," he croaked, struggling to see who was in
the room with him.

"He’s asking for water." The same woman’s voice. Cook?
He couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Mrs. Dixon.

Ford felt a hand slip under his head, lifting him up. Then a
cup and cool water were at his dry lips. He tried to drink, to swallow, but it
hurt like hell, so he ended up sputtering most of it out. A few cooling drops
made their way down his throat however.

"Mrs. Tremaine," Mrs. Dixon said, sounding
relieved that she could hand her patient over to another. "He took a sip
of water."

"Go back to Alice, Delores. She’s in the peach parlor
with Miss Blakemore." Sabrina took the glass from the cook. "I’ll
watch over Mr. Northcliffe."

He felt Sabrina sit on the edge of the bed and reach her hand
up to feel his forehead. Her fingers felt like heaven. Cool, soft, soothing,
compassionate. He could feel himself slipping back down again.

"Licorice root," he managed to whisper before
falling back into a restless sleep.

The dreams came to him, warm and tantalizing at first.
Sabrina’s soft lips moving slowly over his, tantalizing him until it became a
hot wet kiss smoldering with promise. Then, her voluptuous body was sliding
against his, making him burn with desire so intense that he thought he was being
incinerated. Just when he was about to melt into her, the dream consumed him in
the flames of his own passion.

He woke feeling a warm, sweet liquid pushed between his
lips. Licorice tea soothed his parched throat. Sabrina had heard him before
he’d blacked out. He opened his eyes and this time, his head wasn’t aching and
he didn’t feel as if he was under water. Sabrina’s beautiful face was above
him. A man waited a lifetime for such a thing, he marveled, as she spooned more
tea into his mouth.

"Hello," she said with a smile as sweet as summer
fruit. "You look much better. How do you feel?"

"What happened?" Ford struggled to sit up, but
Sabrina pressed her hand to his chest, effectively keeping him down. "I
remember I was in my lab. I wanted to record everything that happened with
Alice. What herbs I used, in which quantities and order. I felt like it might
slip away if I didn’t recreate the whole process again."

"Yes, and it took you nearly three days straight,
without sleep or food. You almost killed yourself." Her cool, soft hand
stroked his cheek as she spoke, sending a different kind of shiver down his
spine.

"I had dreams, about my mother. It was like she was
here."

"Don’t tell me you’re talking to ghosts too."
Sabrina smiled, obviously making fun of him.

"Most assuredly not," he said, frowning. "I
do not believe in the supernatural."

"Well, then, what did your mother have to say?"
Sabrina sat on the edge of his bed, much like a wife might.

Ford cleared his throat, which felt much better, and tried
not to think about the fact that this beautiful, desirable woman was on his bed
with him. "I don’t remember exactly. Something about Piper and family.
It’s all a muddle now."

"That sounds normal. I wish I could say the same for
Alice. When she was still feverish she also had a conversation with your
mother." Sabrina was quiet for a moment then continued almost shyly. "She,
on the other hand, does believe it was a ghost. I don’t know what I’m going to
do with that girl."

"How is she?" Ford asked, struggling to pull
himself up against the pillows without any help.

"Alice? Oh she’s doing wonderfully, thanks to you."
Sabrina’s look was one of adoration. "She’s downstairs with Miss Blakemore
having tea. She still sleeps a good part of the day, but is eating full meals
and keeping the servants quite busy."

"I’m so glad," Ford said, wondering if that look
was really intended for him. "How long was I out for?"

"Only one day," Sabrina said, reaching behind him
and fluffing the pillows. "I don’t think you were nearly as sick as Alice.
But I gave you exactly the same mixture as you gave her. Just the way you
showed me."

Ford couldn’t breathe for a moment, she was so close he
could feel her breath on his face. He only barely resisted the urge to pull her
into his arms and finish the job he had started on the sofa.

"I’m glad," he murmured. "That you
remembered. I’m sure I’m not as sick as Alice, but it was good that you were
there to take care of it—of me."

 Sabrina blushed at his praise. Much to his disappointment,
she pulled away and stood to leave.

"I’d better go make sure that Miss Blakemore isn’t
wearing Alice out." She didn’t move but shifted from one foot to the
other, as if she wanted to say something else.

"Will you come back later?" he asked, hoping she
wouldn’t take his request the wrong way.

"Of course. It’s my job to make sure you’re taken care
of," Sabrina said, suddenly businesslike. "I’ll send Freddy up to
help you with your—personal needs."

"Of course." Ford smiled weakly and watched her
leave.

He wondered how he could get them back to that moment on the
sofa, or if he even should. He knew he was playing with fire, contemplating
such a thing, but it was all he could think about.

That was one reason he had disappeared into his laboratory
for three days and nights. Yes, he’d been working on the formula and a detailed
description of how it was prepared and why it worked. But he also wanted to get
as far away from Sabrina Tremaine as he could. He knew she’d want to take care
of her child, and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of
her. Not after that kiss. That amazing, tantalizing, scintillating kiss. All
he’d wanted to do was finish what they’d started. It was on his mind every
second of those seventy-two hours he’d spent awake and completely aroused. It
was all he’d been able to do when he gained consciousness and saw Sabrina
leaning over him, to hide the evidence of how he felt about her. Thank goodness
the quilts were thick. But now, he was feeling quite well, and strong, and
ready to continue where they’d left off. And it was improper as bloody hell,
but even that couldn’t change his mind. Ford was determined to make love to
Sabrina Tremaine, no matter the consequences. She was a grown woman with a
child, not some blushing virgin. If she felt the same way as he did, and he was
pretty sure she did, then there was nothing wrong with what he wanted to do
with her.

Except of course the fact that he was her employer, not her
lover. And they would have to live under the same roof for at least a year. And
wouldn’t that be awkward when Luella came home and he would have to start
courting her? Funny, he hadn’t bothered to think of think of these
complications when his arousal was in full flame. But now that he was cooling
off, and calmly considering all of the consequences, this didn’t seem like such
a good idea after all.

"Let’s get you cleaned up, then," Freddy said,
entering the room without even knocking.

Ford made a mental note of that. Locking the door would be
of vital importance if he managed to get Sabrina in his bedroom again.

"I think I need a haircut," Ford said, absently,
his mind back on the dilemma of his desire for Mrs. Tremaine.

"Right, ‘aircut it is, Mr. Northcliffe, and a bath I
think." Freddy pulled the covers off the bed. "A bit ripe you are.
Don’t want to be offending the lady, Mrs. Tremaine."

"No, we wouldn’t want that," Ford smiled, allowing
the young valet to wrap him in a blanket and lead him to sit in front of the
fire.

"You sit yerself there while ole Roland and I get the
tub and water set up ‘ere in your room. Don’t want you ‘aving to get to and
from the water closet in your state. Mrs. Dixon has a tray ready too. She said
I was to ‘ave you eat every bite." Freddy talked away as he removed the
soiled linens from the bed. "Mrs. Tremaine is busy with ‘er little girl,
doing the same thing I would imagine. Miss Alice is quite a gel. I was teaching
‘er a card game this morning."

After a short while a bath was set up in front of the fire,
steaming pleasantly. Ford crawled in, needing the arm of Freddy. He was still a
bit weak, but the water seeped into his bones and energized him. Freddy helped
him wash his hair, then trimmed it neatly. Sitting by the fire, he dried off
and drank some fine port, nibbling at the meal Mrs. Dixon had sent up. Soon he
was too tired to wait any longer for Sabrina and he crawled back into bed and
fell into a deep, refreshing sleep, free of dreams of both his mother and the
beautiful widow who worked for him.

****

The next morning Ford woke to Freddy whistling a tune and
shining his shoes.

"It’s been a good long time since you woke at a decent
hour, Mr. Northcliffe. Makes it easier for a lad to do ‘is job." Freddy
was in too good a mood for Ford’s taste. Mornings were for quiet contemplation
and strong, hot, sweet tea, not rambling about nonessentials.

"Let me ‘elp you get yourself dressed, sir."

At least Freddy was efficient and had Ford dressed in fresh
clothes without a fuss.

"Do you feel up to breakfast downstairs? Or should I
have a tray sent up?"

"Where is Mrs. Tremaine, this morning?" Ford
countered Freddy’s question with his own, hoping he didn’t sound more than
mildly curious.

"I think she just finished ‘er breakfast with Miss
Alice and is on ‘er way to meet with Mrs. Fitzsimmons. For their daily meeting,
don’t you know." Freddy scratched his head as if trying to remember
something. "Oh I just remembered. She said she’d be wanting to meet with
you about a few things and wanted to know if you’re feeling up to it."

Ah, so she hadn’t abandoned her other patient, Ford thought
with relief.

"I’m still a little tired. Why don’t you have a tray
sent up. I think I’ll spend the day in my rooms." Ford looked around his
suite with a frown. "But I need some books from my laboratory. Would you
fetch them for me, Freddy?"

The boy stood there with mouth open as if frozen in a silent
scream. "I-I-I’ll be ‘appy to ‘ave someone get you whatever you’ll be
needing, sir." The last came out in a squeak.

"What’s wrong, Freddy?"

"Um, I, well, you see—" Freddy stuttered,
obviously upset about something. "I’m afraid to go down there, sir."

"Why ever would you be afraid?" Ford asked,
stunned at the boy’s response. "It’s practically a kitchen, with all the
plants and herbs. Unless the mice bother you?"

"That Mrs. Shelley, done scared me with her book about
all them experiments and such." Freddy shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

"Ah," Ford nodded in understanding. "
Frankenstein
.
Well, Freddy, if I didn’t know better, I might be frightened too. But you see,
the penny dreadful you speak of is pure fiction. I’ve read of several
scientists who’ve attempted such frivolous experiments, and of course, had no
kind of results like Mary Shelley’s Doctor Frankenstein. So you see, there is
nothing to worry about."