His Obsession (13 page)

At last, Kate rested her forehead against the
mare’s neck, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, girl. I’m so sorry.”

It was extremely difficult to see anything
through the driving rain, but Kate realized she couldn’t remain
where she was. If the horse wouldn’t move, she had to seek shelter
for herself.

Reluctantly, Kate allowed her arms to drop
from the mare’s broad neck. With purpose, Kate strode through the
mud and onto the bridge. The water was very high. She could feel
the torrent beating a tattoo against the floorboards and to Kate,
it almost seemed like a heartbeat.

The small rivulet had swelled over its banks,
flooding the lowlands on both sides of the stream. The stream had
become a living, breathing thing with a purpose of its own.
Undaunted, undeterred, it rushed headlong in its flight to the sea,
devouring everything in sight.

Grimly, Kate realized if she fell into the
muddy water, the weight of her sodden skirts would quickly pull her
under. Although her heart pounded with fear, she had no choice. She
had to go on.

How happy Kate was when she finally reached
the other side. For a moment, she paused to catch her breath, then
gratefully moved up the lane onto higher ground. Her side ached
and, in her weariness, the horizon seemed to shift strangely as she
moved. Kate kept walking.

Putting one foot heavily in front of the
other, Kate trudged on. Her skirts dragged in the mud and the hem
became quite heavy with accumulated water and soil. Kate’s shoes
were caked with mud, too, making walking even more difficult.

She couldn’t seem to stop her teeth from
chattering, either. The shawl she’d hastily thrown around her
shoulders lay like a heavy, wet blanket over her body and the cold
rain beat on the top of Kate’s bonnet incessantly. Her shoes seemed
to weigh three times what they normally did and it was difficult to
keep walking. Every step exhausted Kate still further.

Kate saw little through the storm. Not a hut
or hovel appeared through the driving rain, not even a shed or a
barn from which she might have sought shelter. Kate clutched her
arms over her chest for warmth. Her head was bent into the wind and
her body curled over itself in a vain attempt to conserve valuable
heat.

Kate began to pray. Silently, she pleaded
with God to save her. What Kate was attempting to do, she did for
her family, for all of them. Surely, such a sacrifice wouldn’t
remain unrewarded. She pleaded with the Almighty to send her a
sign, some sort of clue to her salvation.

At last, Kate saw it, a huge, dark structure
rising out of the rain. She might have been hallucinating, but Kate
thought she saw the warm glow of candlelight shining from some of
the windows. To someone on the brink of exhaustion, they were a
welcome beacon, indeed.

With new hope, Kate lurched toward the
building. Slowly, the dark shape grew steadily larger, dwarfing her
with its high stone towers and immense size. The huge house lay
like an enormous dragon on the crest of a hill, covering the façade
with its impressive size.

Kate thought about proceeding down the
driveway, but she was too weary. So, she cut across the lawn,
struggling up the hillside toward the massive manor house. With an
effort, Kate finally located a door in the façade and knocked hard
at the portal several times. At last, thoroughly done in, Kate
collapsed to her knees, leaning her back against the door.

Inside the mansion’s study, Richard Warwick
sat reading some estate accounts at his desk. The study was
lavishly appointed. Two upholstered chairs sat in front of the
massive mahogany desk and a cheery fire blazed from the carved
stone hearth.

The flickering light illuminated hundreds of
books within the earl’s masculine sanctuary. Massive tomes filled
with the works of Shakespeare stood side by side with more modern
treatises on farming and agriculture. There were many first
editions among the lot and Warwick prided himself on possessing
numerous signed manuscripts as well.

Richard sat with his head bent over the
documents. The candlelight shining from the candelabra on his desk
gleamed on his dark brown hair and gilded his face in a becoming
hue. He’d been reading for too many hours and his shoulders and
neck ached a little. Nevertheless, Richard drove himself to
complete his task. It was not within his nature to do
otherwise.

Presently, Richard heard the door click open.
He never glanced up from the papers on his desk as the butler
cleared his throat, requesting his attention.

“Yes?” Richard asked. “What is it?”

“Excuse me, sir,” the butler said.

“Yes, Jeffries?”

“Forgive me for interrupting you, but I
believe there is something in the hall which demands your
attention,” Jeffries requested.

“Hum?” Richard asked.

“We found a young lady outside, sir. She’s
apparently been caught in the storm,” Jeffries explained.

“I see,” Richard noted. “Well, dry her off,
give her some tea and then send her home when the storm lets up a
little.”

For some strange reason, Jeffries didn’t
immediately depart to carry out the earl’s instructions. The butler
remained standing over him, waiting expectantly. At last, with a
weary sigh, Richard lowered his pen and looked up.

“Well?” Richard urged. “Is there more?”

“I believe so, my lord,” Jeffries supplied.
“She says she knows you.”

Richard chuckled wryly.

“That could be said of half of the women in
London,” Richard quipped.

“Indeed, sir,” Jeffries agreed. “However, I
believe you mentioned her once. A Lady Overton, sir?”

Immediately, Richard dropped the papers in
his hand and surged to his feet. “Overton? Are you certain?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Older or younger?” Richard inquired.

“She’s a most attractive young lady, sir,
with all of that red hair --”

Richard rapidly strode past the butler and
into the front hall. Near his front door, two of his servants were
attempting to lift a very wet and bedraggled young woman from the
floor. Richard looked beyond the soaked and muddy dress and shoes
to the face of the stricken female.

By all the saints! Kate Overton.

Kate’s face was terribly pale. Her burnished
red curls had unfortunately fallen from their pins and the
drenched, curly strands were turned nearly black by the rain. One
of the footmen patted Kate’s hand ineffectually, but she seemed
listless, perhaps even unconscious. Richard crouched beside
her.

“Kate?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”

Kate’s eyes were closed and her eyelids
appeared bruised and dark. Her skin felt like ice and she was as
white as a sheet. Even semi-conscious, Kate’s jaw continued to
clench rhythmically as she shivered. Richard knew he had to get her
out of her wet clothes and warmed up quickly.

Lifting Kate from the floor, Richard strode
for the staircase, barking orders like a general. The servants
scurried before him, hastening to ready a room to receive their new
guest.

Despite her sodden attire, Kate was light in
his arms. She felt like a child, but Richard’s body knew better.
His traitorous anatomy swiftly responded to the warm fullness of
her breasts pressed against the strong wall of his chest. In
addition, the way Kate turned her pale face into his shoulder
aroused all of Richard’s protective instincts.

As Richard approached the steps, her bonnet
inadvertently slid off the back of her head, dangling over
Richard’s arm by its sodden ribbons. From his vantage point, he
could see that Kate’s face was nearly white and small drops of
water dripped from the tip of her nose and ran down the smooth
curves of her cheeks. Her mouth was parted slightly, enticing
Richard to bend his head and sample the sweetness of her full,
moist lips.

Richard cursed his wayward thoughts and
climbed the stairs to the second floor. He was no seducer of
unconscious women, especially not this particular woman. If Kate
ever learned of his inclinations, Kate would no doubt verbally flay
him alive. Richard grinned at the thought and shouldered his way
into his mother’s old room.

The maids had already turned down the bed and
a small fire had been hastily kindled in the hearth. Soon, the room
would be warm and toasty. Mrs. Collins, the housekeeper, fluffed up
the pillows on the bed, then stood back as Richard lowered his
burden. Without further ado, Richard divested Kate of her wet
bonnet and cloak then reached for the buttons at the base of Kate’s
throat.

“My lord!” the housekeeper gasped in
astonishment.

Richard frowned in annoyance. “Would you
rather I let her freeze, Mrs. Collins?”

“Of course not, my lord,” the housekeeper
quickly agreed. “But it isn’t seemly for a gentleman to be present
in a lady’s bedchamber, much less undress her, too.”

“I am master here, am I not?”

“Yes, my lord,” she agreed.

“Then I shall do as I see fit to make sure
that Lady Overton is comfortable.”

“Certainly, sir,” Mrs. Collins acknowledged.
“As you wish.”

“Besides, if I don’t misunderstand the reason
for her fortuitous arrival, this lady will, when she recovers,
probably become my wife,” Richard informed her.

Mrs. Collins stared at the earl in shock.
Then she leaned over and quickly helped the Earl of Devonshire
remove the young lady’s garments.

Kate woke slowly. Consciousness came with
considerable effort, slowly superseding the warm, soft cocoon in
which she lay. Sleepily, Kate opened one eye and peered around
her.

Kate found herself in a strange, opulent bed
chamber. She lay on a huge bed with four carved dark wood posts
that reached nearly to the ceiling. The walls around her were
covered in a magnificent pink and green wallpaper with gold
filigree accents. A little further along the left wall, a lovely
fire blazed in the fireplace, casting a warm honey colored light
about the room. A huge armoire dominated the room along the right
wall, flanked by a side table and a tiny antique vanity with a
gilded mirror.

There were signs of the sickroom about, as
well. Several medicine bottles stood like sentries on the table
beside the bed, along with a large soup spoon and a shallow dish. A
white porcelain bowl with an ornate blue castle design emblazoned
on the outside lay beside the bottles, with a white cloth dangling
over one side.

As Kate turned her head to see a little
better, a strange gentleman drew a chair up to the side of the bed.
He was an older man, with a round face and white hair protruding in
a ring around his balding pate. A set of spectacles perched on his
bulbous nose, but his brown eyes were kind, rather like those of a
deer. Kate liked him immediately.

“Well, my lady, it’s nice to have you back
with us again,” the old gentleman declared. “My name is Dr.
Brookington. I’m the earl’s personal physician.”

Kate tried to say something to the doctor,
but she managed little more than a croak. Apparently, her voice was
very weak from disuse. The physician smiled with understanding.

“Don’t worry. Your voice will return in
time,” the doctor assured her. “Would you care for some water?”

Kate nodded.

The physician assisted her to drink a few
sips from a cup he retrieved from beside the bed. Kate drank the
water greedily. Never had anything felt as cooling as the liquid
that rushed down her throat. Much refreshed, Kate gratefully lay
back against her pillow.

“Now, let’s have a look at you, shall
we?”

The physician listened to Kate’s heart and
lungs through the white nightgown she wore. Dr. Brookington also
peered inside her mouth and ears without comment. After laying the
back of one pudgy hand against her brow, he finally sat back and
smiled.

“You’re much better, I think. No fever any
longer. How do you feel, Lady Overton?” Dr. Brookington
inquired.

“Tir – Tired,” Kate managed to squeak
out.

Kate tried to lift one hand to her forehead,
but her arms felt extremely heavy. She was lucky to lift her
fingers to her chest.

“And weak,” Kate added.

The doctor nodded. “That’s to be expected.
You’ve been ill for days.”

“Days?” Kate gasped, her eyes widening in
alarm. “My parents – Helen - What must they -?”

In her agitation, Kate began to cough.

“More water?” the kindly physician asked.

Kate’s eyes shifted wildly as the physician
carefully lifted her shoulders and once more helped her to drink.
Still, Kate had too many questions to remain silent for long.

“Doctor, you said I’d been ill for how long?”
Kate asked.

“Five days now, Lady Overton, ever since you
collapsed at the earl’s front door.”

Five days! Who knew what might have happened
to her family in that amount of time? Most assuredly, by now they
would be out of food. Perhaps Penelope or Helen had attempted to
put some sort of a meal together by themselves and burned down the
house.

Worse still, maybe the sheriff had come to
arrest Edgar Overton for his debts and taken him away in irons.
Where would that leave her mother, Helen and the injured Frederick
Winslow?

Kate struggled to sit up.

“Here now! Just where do you think you’re off
to?” Dr. Brookington cried, halting her movements with one hand on
her thin shoulder.

“I have to see the earl right away,” Kate
desperately pleaded. “I have to go home.”

“I’m sorry, but he isn’t here at the moment.
The earl is away on business,” Dr. Brookington informed her.

Kate blinked up at the doctor in disbelief,
then thrust her legs over the side of the bed. With an effort, Kate
lurched to a sitting position. Immediately, the room began to swim
around her and Kate felt sick to her stomach. The floor and walls
tilted crazily, only righting themselves once more as the physician
pushed her back onto the pillow.