Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman (12 page)

He was well-muscled—his upper chest was covered in a light scattering of blonde hair that thinned into a line that ran down the center of his abdomen, disappearing into the top of his breeches. She watched as the ridges in his stomach tightened as he groaned once more in pain. She snapped out of her bold appraisal of his perfectly-formed body, embarrassed by her fascination.

She took his arm in her hands, twisting it slightly so she could get a better look at the wound. She was relieved when it wasn't as ghastly as she had anticipated. It appeared the ball had grazed the muscle, but fortunately, it had passed through and hadn't lodged into his flesh. She was grateful that she wouldn't be required to fish out a ball, not sure she would be able to perform such a task without retching.

“You're lucky that your injury isn't any worse than it is. I'll need to go get a few supplies so I can properly take care of it.”

Elenore rose to her feet so she could go fetch the items she would need to dress his wound. As she was turning to leave, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She tried to ignore the shiver of delight that coursed up her arm at his touch. “Please be quiet and discreet. I don't want anybody knowing of this.”

She nodded her agreement. Of course he wouldn't want anybody to know. He was still partially dressed as Black Lightening. If anybody in the household found out that he disguised himself as a highwayman, they would be dismayed and full of questions. Exactly like she was.

Devon's jaw clamped tightly as Sister Genevieve washed his wound. She submersed the dirty rag in a bowl of water, wringing it out before once more applying it to his arm. Each time she touched the wound the pain intensified, but there was no way he was going to allow himself to cry out in agony. No, he wouldn't allow himself to lower himself to that level in front of her.

When she had finally gotten all of the dried blood washed from his arm as well as the new blood flow staunched, she began wrapping clean strips of cloth around his arm in layers, pulling the material tightly across his arm. He couldn't resist watching her as she worked, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she concentrated. Her hair that had been wet from the rain was now drying in soft curls at the nape of her neck and around her face. He thought she looked enchanting. He much preferred to see her without her nun's robe and veil. Maybe because without them, it was easier for him to imagine she was just a girl and not off limits to him, as well as every other man.

When she was finished with the bandaging, she rinsed her hands one final time in the small basin of clean water that was left and then dried them on a rag. “I'm no expert on these things, but I think you'll survive.”

“Thanks to you.” He smiled at her, truly grateful for her assistance.

“I'm sure you would have survived regardless of my assistance. It was not a life threatening injury, but if you don't take care of yourself and allow it to become infected, that could change. I recommend you rest, don't do anything too strenuous, keep the wound clean, and change the bandages often.”

Devon nodded at her instructions. Feeling overwhelmed with exhaustion, he laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, wishing he could go to sleep. Sister Genevieve rose swiftly and began taking the dirtied water back to the kitchen, cleaning all evidence of the mess so no one would know what had taken place.

Devon was drifting off to sleep, when he heard her come back into the room. He felt the couch dip, as she sat at his waist and leaned over him, touching his face to see if he was awake. “Lord Bridgerton, are you awake?”

For a moment he sat perfectly still, enjoying the feel of her soft hand against his cheek. He breathed in her scent, something soft and feminine, before slowly opening his eyes to look at her. “Oh good, I was worried you had fallen asleep,” she sighed, removing her hand and returning it to rest in her lap next to her other one. “I've been patient long enough and now that your injury has been taken care of, I insist you tell me what is going on here. Why are you dressed as a highwayman?”

Devon closed his eyes and groaned. He didn't want to reveal his secret to her. He had never wanted anyone to find out about his double life, least of all her. In her impatience, she reached up and shook his arm, causing him to inhale sharply in pain. She withdrew her hands immediately. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“You're fine,” he lied through gritted teeth.

“I should have never agreed to help you until you promised to tell me what this is all about,” she complained, irritated that he wouldn't explain himself.

“Why does it matter to you who I am and what I do?”

“Because,” she hissed, leaning closely to his face. “I have business with Black Lightening, and I need to know if he is still planning on carrying through with his end of the bargain. My future is at stake. Are you or aren't you Black Lightening?”

Devon exhaled slowly, “Yes.”

She surprised him by sitting up straight, her animated face looking unusually content. “I guess it makes perfect sense. Why else would Black Lightening have brought me here to take care of Lord Brattondale? You needed somebody to watch after your father so he wouldn't interfere with your forays as a highwayman.” Looking directly at him she asked, “But why do you do it? Don't you know that not only is it dangerous, but illegal as well?”

Devon smirked. “You forgot to mention that it's sinful. Tell me, Sister, are you going to preach at me next, importuning me to repent so my soul won't be consigned to hell?”

“I could and I should, but what I want to know is if you still plan on upholding your end of our bargain? I need to know right now if you are still planning on assisting me with my passage to America or if I need to make other arrangements.”

Devon was surprised that her upcoming voyage to America seemed to be her only concern, but he couldn't help asking, “And what if I can no longer assist you?”

A look of sheer panic mixed with irritation marred her pretty face. She balled her hands into tight fists as she fumed. “Then I'll leave tonight. I refuse to stay around here caring for your father a moment longer without the promise of compensation for my efforts. You promised me your help. I had been delaying my leave because I trusted you. I thought your word was good.”

He didn't know why it amused him to see her so riled up, but he quite enjoyed the way her eyebrows scrunched in anger, her brown eyes narrowing into tiny slits, as she ranted and reprimanded him. Of course he was still planning on helping her, but his curiosity provoked him into asking what she would do otherwise. The thought of her leaving tonight filled him with panic—not only because it was unsafe for her to leave in the middle of the night, but also because he still needed her. He still had work to do as Black Lightening, which required somebody else be available to occupy his father so he wouldn't have too. He also needed somebody to take care of him as well now, since it would be awhile before he was feeling up to snuff himself.

He watched as her lips thinned into a narrow line, her chin tilting defiantly before he spoke. “I'm only just jesting. I still plan on assisting you.” He watched as her shoulders sagged in relief. “But I think it's fair that I warn you that I haven't yet had the opportunity to inquire about your passage, and now it looks as if I won't be able to get back to London and do it for some time. I might not be able to follow through on the month time limit we agreed upon previously, but I promise you, that as soon as I am able, I will see to the details of your voyage.” It was true. He had been so busy as of late that he hadn't had time to pay a visit to his brother-in-law Soren, whom he knew was in London for a spell. He would have to pen a missive to be delivered to the Duke of Kerrington's townhouse where his sister and her husband were staying while in London. He wasn't sure when they planned on returning to America, and he didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to assist Sister Genevieve. Something told him she wouldn't take it too kindly if he did.

“I suppose I have no other option but to stay here and take care of your father. It's a shame I didn't have a run in with a highwayman that was in need of a governess instead. Caring for children would have been far preferable than caring for that overgrown child.”

Devon laughed at her bold assessment of his father but quickly stopped as she glared at him in annoyance. “I'm sorry to be so bold, my lord, but I speak the truth. It's no walk in the park taking care of your father day in and day out. Assisting me with my passage to America is the least you can do to compensate me for putting up with his surliness. I can see why you were eager to be rid of the task yourself. I'd be half-tempted to take up the life of a criminal too, if it meant getting me away from this madness.”

“I'm not a criminal,” Devon said, suddenly anxious to defend himself to her. She rolled her eyes at him in response and he continued, “And I promise I'll make it up to you, but right now I need to get some rest. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Sister Genevieve rose. “Very well, but this is not the end of this discussion.” She turned and made to leave.

Devon called after her, “Sister Genevieve?”

“Yes?”

“I know I've been quite an imposition to you but I need your help once more.”

“What now?” she huffed.

“I can't very well stay here and sleep. The maids would find me in the morning when they come to clean. I need you to help me to my room.”

“Pardon, my lord, but you hurt your arm, not your feet. I'm sure you can manage just fine without me.”

“That's true, but I need to get rid of these clothes. I can't risk anyone finding them and discovering my identity.”

“Throw them in the fire.”

“I can't. They're the only ones I have with me, and I'm going to need them again.”

“My life was a lot less complicated before you came into it, you do realize. All I can say is that you better manage to book me first-class passage to America to make this worth my while.”

Devon smiled. “I'll see what I can do.

***

Elenore blew out the candle and set it down on the small table next to the door, before following Lord Bridgerton silently out of the library. She was grateful that it was dark in the house because she found the sight of his bare chest highly distracting. She clutched his dirty shirt, mask, and tricorn hat in her arms, as they quietly walked to the second floor where their bedchambers were located. She was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that Lord Bridgerton was also Black Lightening. That first day she had been introduced to him as Lord Bridgerton, the Earl of Brattondale's son, he must have found it highly amusing that she had no idea that he was the very man who had struck a deal with her to come care for his father, the very man she had just spent hours pressed up against riding atop his horse. She shivered at the memory of his muscular arms encircling her, her whole body tingling with awareness.

Then she thought of the kiss they had shared in the stables. Had her nearness affected him that first day as well? She shook her head dispelling the thought. She'd never know, and it didn't matter anyway. As soon as she could, she'd be long gone from England and everyone here anyway.

Lord Bridgerton stopped in front of a door that presumably led to his chambers. He opened the door slowly to ensure it didn't make a noise, before taking two steps into the dark room. Elenore watched him curiously before whispering, “What did you want me to do with these clothes?”

“Come in here and I'll tell you.”

“I'm not coming in there,” she hissed, appalled.

“I need to give you my pants and tell you where to take them.”

Elenore blushed at the thought of him removing his pants, once again grateful for the darkness. “Bring them out to me when you are changed, and we can discuss matters then.”

There was a moment of silence and Elenore waited for him to shut his door. When the door remained open she began to grow impatient. Finally, he spoke, his voice gentle and pleading. “I need help getting into my nightshirt. I'm not sure I can lift my arm.”

The little patience Elenore had left expired. How could he expect her to be near him in such an indecent state of undress and not be affected? She stalked into the room, passing him on her way. She threw his clothing down on the bed hoping he could sense how irritated she was with his request.

“Where's a candle?” she asked, anxious to get the task done so she could disappear from his presence.

“On my nightstand.”

She marched over and felt for the candle in the dark. Once it was lit she walked back to where he was standing. She looked at his face and inhaled. He looked devilishly handsome standing in his black breeches with only the small amount of light the candle produced illuminating his features. Her gaze moved up from his legs to his abdomen and bare chest, the white bandage wrapped around his arm standing out in stark contrast to his tanned skin. Looking up into his dark eyes, she froze. He was looking at her so intently, like he wanted to devour her. She had never felt frightened of him before, not even when he first whisked her away disguised as Black Lightening, but the look he was giving her now frightened her to the core.

His eyes that had always looked warm and kind now gazed at her with raw hunger. Somehow she knew he was thinking about the kiss they had shared. It had been a bad idea for her to follow him into his room, and she knew, if she didn't hurry up and leave, they would do something they both ended up regretting. Besides, he believed her to be a nun. He may have been able to excuse away their one kiss as a momentary lapse in judgment on her part, but there's no way she could repeat the same mistake and be forgiven and believed. It would eat into her credibility and he might begin to doubt her story.

“Retrieve your nightshirt so I can be on my way. You're not the only one who is tired,” she said, breaking the spell that had wrapped itself around them.

Devon walked to his dressing room and grabbed a nightshirt, holding it out to her, and waited for her to take it. She angrily grabbed it from his grasp and began assisting him in dressing. He took immense pleasure in her touch, though he knew he had no right to enjoy it or crave it. She finished her task and stepped back to appraise her work.

“I need to remove my breeches...” he started to say when she held one hand up to halt him from going on.

“I draw the line right there. You'll have to figure out how to do that on your own.”

Devon laughed at her discomfort. “I wouldn't have dreamed of asking your assistance. Turn around, and I'll do it.”

“No, I'll just leave. Set them outside your door when you're done. Where did you want me to put them?”

Devon went and sat on the edge of his bed and ran a hand through his already mused hair. “There's an abandoned cottage about a half mile past the greenhouse to the north. I use it as a place to change, when I come to the estate in disguise and need to change before coming to the house. I need you to take them there. Nobody goes there except for me. It's the only place I know where they will not be discovered and be ready for me when I need them again. You need to go tonight, while it's dark, so no one can see you go.”