Her Defiant Heart (17 page)

Christian's exit from the tub was as ungainly as his fall had been. He sat heavily on the floor, out of breath and soaked to the skin. Dipping one hand in the water, he caught Jenny by the collar of her nightshift and roughly jerked her upright. "Stay where you are, Mrs. B.," he said tiredly as the housekeeper advanced in his direction to help. "This she-cat will pull you in as well. You can't imagine how strong she—owww!" Christian withdrew his hand sharply as Jenny's teeth sank into the fleshy ball of his fist. "Mad little bitch," he said. He regarded the half moon impression her teeth had made in his flesh as he rose to his knees. She had not drawn blood but not because she hadn't tried. "I've a good mind to bite you back."

Shaking as if with ague, Jenny merely regarded him blankly.

"Oh, Jesus," he swore softly, pushing aside several thick strands of hair that were plastered to her cheek and neck. "What is to be done about you?" He glanced over his shoulder at the housekeeper. "Mrs. B., be so helpful as to get one of my nightshirts. We have to put her in something dry. There are some towels in the dressing room. Fetch those as well." Christian slipped his hands under Jenny's arms and dragged her out of the tub. He pulled her against him, and she stayed there without protest, fitting the contours of his body as if she belonged there. She was stiff and cold and reminded Christian of nothing so much as a fledgling chick. As for himself, he thought he was behaving in the finest tradition of a mother hen. The soggy sleeves of his robe even resembled wings as he wrapped her in his arms. His legs were splayed, and Jenny's trembling body slipped comfortably in the cradle of his thighs. He had the absurd notion that he was meant to wait for this egg to hatch.

Christian rubbed Jenny's back while he waited for Mrs. Brandywine to bring the towels. "I suppose the bath wasn't such a good idea," he said. "Let me see your hands and feet."

There was no response from Jenny, and Christian really hadn't expected one. He lifted each of her hands in turn, examined them, and then pressed them together between his warmer ones. Nudging aside the hem of her nightshirt where it covered her feet, Christian saw the tiny cuts had stopped bleeding. He supposed that removing the slivers of glass would have to wait until she could understand what was being done to her. He could imagine touching her with a pair of tweezers and having her react as if he were stabbing her with a knife. There was no telling what manner of torture had passed for treatment at Jennings.

Christian covered her feet to keep them warm. His chin rested against the crown of her head. His mouth set in a grim line as he stared at the fire. "Do you have a bit of the devil in you, Jenny Holland?" he asked softly. He released her hands and folded one of his arms around her, slipping it just under her breasts to keep her warm as well as upright. He nearly came out of his skin when he felt her place his palm over her left breast.

"There," she said dully. "That's what you like."

Her voice was so low that Christian had to dip his head to hear her. When he did, he felt the press of her mouth just below his ear. She didn't bite him, but her words had the same effect. Christian pulled back sharply and cursed under his breath. "Mrs. B.! Hurry, will you? I cannot be held responsible for what I do to this woman if you—"

"I'm here," she said breathlessly, skittering to a halt in front of Christian. "There were towels all over the floor in there and no fresh—"

"No explanations, please. Just give me one for her hair. You can start stripping her out of her shift."

"Oh, but—"

"I'm not in the mood to listen to tittering objections. Will you please do as I say?" He reached up and caught the corner of one of the towels that the housekeeper held. He yanked it out of her hand and began patting down Jenny's hair. "I'm not going to ravish her, but I am not so certain I can vouch for her intentions toward me."

Mrs. Brandywine snorted. "If you would show a moment's patience you would know that I wasn't going to say anything of the kind. I merely wanted to point out it would be easier to remove her shift if you would put her on the bed."

"Oh." He raised sheepish eyes to Mrs. B. and held her rather pointed stare long enough to let her know he had been chastised.

The housekeeper reflected that some things hadn't changed in the thirty years since Christian's birth. He had been manipulating her with penitent expressions from the cradle onward. "Go on with you," she said. "I know when my leg's being pulled. Put her on the bed."

Christian finished drying Jenny's hair before he moved. Flinging the towel over his shoulder, he got to his feet, carefully supporting Jenny as he did so. He grasped her by the upper arms and hauled her up. She was still curled so tightly that her feet actually left the floor. "She's not making this easy," he muttered as he swung her into his arms. It was more the ungainliness of her position than her actual weight that made everything awkward for Christian.

"Should I get help?" Mrs. B. asked anxiously. "One of the men—"

"I'm fine," he said, cutting her off.

Mrs. Brandywine held her breath as Christian's bare feet slipped in a pool of water. He caught himself, paused, and then continued. The housekeeper threw down a towel and began mopping water with the toe of her slipper.

"Leave it for later," Christian said. "I need your help here." He dropped Jenny on the bed and used the towel that was hanging over his shoulder to briskly rub her down. "Did you find one of my nightshirts?"

Mrs. B. held it out to him. "Take it. I'll get her out of this wet thing."

Jenny moved restlessly, moaning softly as she felt the hem of her shift being lifted past her calves, over her knees, then sliding along her thighs. Billy had promised he wouldn't make her undress. She didn't want him to see her. Touching was unpleasant but tolerable. If she let him see her, she would never feel clean. "No," she protested. Tears gathered under her eyelids. "Nooo." Her head moved from side to side. "Please, no."

Christian sensed what was going to happen before Mrs. Brandywine. He tried to move the housekeeper out of the way, but his timing was off by a single beat. Jenny's knees came up and rammed into Mrs. Brandywine's bosom as the housekeeper bent over her. Mrs. B. was thrown off balance, first by Jenny, then by Christian as he pushed her out of the way. She stumbled away from the bed and sucked in her breath, trying to fill her lungs with air.

"Don't, Christian!" she gasped when she saw him take Jenny's wrists in a rigid, painful grip. "She didn't know what she was—"

Christian was only marginally aware that Mrs. B. was speaking to him. It was one thing for Jenny to bite, kick, and scratch at him, but when her madness turned on Mrs. Brandywine, rational thought abandoned him. He jerked her upright, caught her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Don't you ever,
ever
hit her again—"

"Christian," Mrs. B. pleaded, tugging at the soggy sleeve of his robe. "She can't even hear—"

Neither could Christian. Jenny had become a wild thing in his arms, fighting him with a strength that was suited to a man half again her size. "Oh, no you don't," he said as she began to flail at him. "Not this time." He pushed her back hard on the bed, and this time when he straddled her it was not at the hips. He slid over her chest and pinned her upper arms to the mattress with his knees. Jenny's hands and fingers went numb almost immediately. They fell uselessly above her head. The attempts she made to unseat him were unsuccessful. Her legs, with nothing but air to push against, gradually stopped kicking. There was a droplet of blood on her lip where she had bitten it. She had nothing left to move except her eyes, and for a while they darted frantically. Exhaustion, not surrender, finally closed them.

"Mr. Marshall," Mrs. B. said gently after several highly charged minutes had passed. "She's done in now."

Christian exhaled slowly and nodded. He eased off Jenny and turned to Mrs. Brandywine. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she assured him.

His eyes made a careful study of the older woman until he was satisfied that she was speaking the truth. "I was afraid she hurt you."

"Winded a little. I'm fine now."

"I'll take it from here," Christian told her. "Nothing good can come of you trying to help." His head gave a slight jerk backward toward the bed, indicating Jenny. "She's completely unpredictable."

There was a whimper from that quarter, and Mrs. Brandywine looked around Christian's shoulder as he pivoted to face the bed again. Jenny was sitting up now, her knees pressed to her chest. Her back was stiff and straight against the dark headboard. She looked at them, at the room, and finally regarded herself with helpless confusion.

"It happened again, didn't it?" she asked huskily, speaking more to herself than to her audience. Her fingers plucked at the wet sleeves of her nightshift and she blinked rapidly, stemming the tears that threatened to flow. "Perhaps they were right after all. I may well be mad... I can't even..."

Both Christian and Mrs. B. leaned forward, straining to hear what Jenny was saying. Her voice trailed off into nothingness and they were no longer privy to her thoughts. Without warning her body went limp, unfolded, and she fell on her side away from them. The only evidence they had to suggest she was crying was the intermittent shuddering of her shoulders. A pillow smothered her sobs.

"Poor thing," Mrs. B. said sympathetically. "Let me go to her, Christian."

He hesitated before nodding and stepping back. "See if you can't get her to change her wet gown. I'll clean up." Christian closed his ears to the soothing, cooing noises Mrs. B. showered on Jenny. He dragged the tub into the dressing room, changed his own wet clothes, and mopped the floor with the towels that Jenny didn't need. "She may as well sleep there tonight," he said, stretching out on the divan when he was done pulling glass splinters from his feet. "There's not another room prepared or one warm enough for her."

"Where will
you
sleep?" Mrs. Brandywine asked. She was sitting on the bed with Jenny's head in her lap. Her fingers gently stroked Jenny's hair and cheek. Jenny's eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her breathing even.

"Right here," he said, patting the cushion.

The housekeeper looked skeptically at Christian's bare feet, which were hanging over the edge of the divan. "You won't be comfortable. I'll take her to my room."

"How? She's finally sound asleep, and I'm not going to carry her to the other wing. My feet still feel like pincushions."

"Then I'll sleep here with her and you can spend the night in my room."

"Mrs. B.," he sighed. "I won't let you be alone with her. There's no telling what she might do, and you simply haven't the strength to restrain her. Take yourself off to bed. You're not the only one falling asleep where you are."

What he said was undeniably true. Still, she couldn't leave without voicing her objections. "It's not proper, Mr. Marshall."

Christian cut her off before she could warm to her subject. "There, you've made your token protest. That's all I'm going to allow you. What the rest of the staff doesn't know won't hurt them. Off to bed, Mrs. Brandywine."

It was futile to go on and she didn't have the energy. "Very well. But let me get you some blankets first." She eased Jenny's head off her lap and back onto a pillow.

"To bed," Christian said, pointing toward the door.

"At least let me stoke the—"

"Bed."

"Tyrant."

"Busybody."

Mrs. Brandywine turned the handle on the door. Her tender smile disappeared as she yawned hugely. "Good night, Mr. Marshall."

"Good night, Mrs. Brandywine."

Chapter 5

Christian couldn't sleep. He had been exhausted when Mrs. Brandywine left and now that he was alone—almost alone—he was bone weary and restless. Somehow it did not seem a contradiction. The divan was hopelessly inadequate for his needs, but Christian knew better than to think that was the reason for his wakefulness.
She
was to blame. He couldn't sleep for watching her.

Turning away from her didn't help. Jenny's pure profile confronted him no matter where he looked, no matter if his eyes were open or closed. He decided it made more sense to look at her than not. Christian sat up and threw his legs over the side of the divan. Resting his elbows on his knees, he supported his chin on his fists and studied Jenny's face.