Lady Gallant (25 page)

She touched his finger. When he didn't attack her, she wrapped her hand around his and lowered it gently to his chest, where she held it between her own two hands.

"I promised before God. And… I could never betray you. I—I love you."

"Jack Midnight was there. He saved my life." Christian stared up at the canopy. "The mouse rescues me. I feel like a sick snail, and she confounds my will at every turn. At every turn."

His dark lashes fell, and his voice faded. Nora let out the breath she'd been holding.

With Christian asleep, she was able to tend to both men in peace. In spite of the furor around him, the Earl hadn't awakened. She checked his wound, smoothed the covers over his body, and devoted her attention to Christian.

Although he had wrenched his wounds, none of his stitches had torn. Nora refastened his bandages, but once this was accomplished, she could no longer ignore the rest of him. God's mercy, who could? He was all long, straight lines of flesh broken by tight curves of muscle. His intimidating strength was concealed by deceptively smooth skin.

His legs were tangled in the sheets, and she began to untwist them. Grasping material near his groin, she paused and flushed, her brows furrowing. Looking over her shoulder, she reassured herself that she was alone and resumed her inspection.

She was no stranger to the male anatomy. She'd handled too many animals. But stay now, something wasn't right. He was too small, and if she touched him, he would be soft. Yet his codpiece…

Men were such cozeners, liars, cheats. Perhaps Lord Mont-fort did not deign to wear outsized protection, but there were many at court who did. The liars. What would happen if she touched him?

"Nora Becket," she murmured to herself, "you're fast becoming the bawd he'd like you to be." She pulled the covers free and spread them over his body. Much better, she decided. It wasn't proper for her to ogle him like a common trull.

From behind the door, she heard Arthur calling her name. She let him in and held her finger to her lips.

"Mistress," he whispered. "Hext and I have been out. To the palace."

"That busybody."

"No, mistress, it's good that we went. I'm learning better how to sneak."

"A godly pastime," Nora said.

"We heard about you. The whole palace was bustling, and when your father saw that the Queen was disturbed, he put it about that you'd vanished because of a sudden attack of a bad tooth." Arthur bobbed his head up and down when Nora gave him an astonished look. "Hext says it was to save his honor and prevent the Queen from interfering. Everyone thinks you're at the town house suffering, and meanwhile, your father searches for you by stealth."

"Then we have a respite. But we won't if you prance about the streets of London and catch my father's eye."

"I'll take care, mistress."

"I know, you've learned to sneak and lurk. Holy Mary forgive me for casting the child among knaves."

Arthur grinned at her, and she dismissed him. Returning to her vigil, she had time to think of the Earl's state. His wound was near the heart, though a clean one. No wonder the physicians hadn't dared to probe it. There was no way to tell how deep the puncture was and thus how grave the damage. The only thing to do was to keep the wound clean and the man still—and pray.

Christian's wounds were much less grave, yet she'd seen animals die of like injuries. Putrefaction could set in for no reason that she could perceive. If it did, this beautiful man would die a long and agonizing death. From her experience, keeping his wounds clean would increase his chances of healing. Why, she wasn't sure, but mayhap it was because God loved cleanliness.

Settling in the chair she'd put near Christian, she tried to rest while keeping alert for movement from either man. She couldn't resist reaching her hand out and resting it on Christian's bare arm. He hadn't heard her confession of love, but it was for the best. He was too ill and too distraught to bother about her.

Or had he instead ignored her because he didn't love her and didn't want her to love him? Nonsense. He didn't want her to marry the awful Flegge. But mayhap he felt sorry for her, or wanted to bed her first, or both. She didn't understand him, and she longed to ask him about his true feelings. Yet in all likelihood, if she did ask, he wouldn't tell. The possibility of getting Christian de Rivers to tell her his real feelings was as likely as getting the Pope to recognize the Princess Elizabeth as legitimate.

Nora brushed a dark lock of hair from his forehead. It was softer than her own hair, and its color was jewel-like in its intensity. She left off stroking it, for each stroke increased her longing for him and her urge to protect him. And his father, who loved Christian with a fierce, protective love that rivaled her own. What would she do if she lost both men when she'd only just discovered the miracle of their existence?

Sinking to her knees by the bed, Nora rested her forehead on the mattress and prayed. God wouldn't let them die. He was kind, and He knew mat she needed Christian. Christian opened her up, freed her from a prison of uncertainty and fear, teased and plagued her into believing in herself. No, God wouldn't let him die. And when he got well, she would gather her courage until she was strong enough to ask him for his hand. Yes, that was what she would do.

Lifting her head, she whispered to Christian, " 'With you I should love to live, with you be ready to die.' "

Idleness was the root of all vices, according to some. For the next three days, Nora was safe from vice, for she had no time to do more than nap for an hour at a stretch. She changed bandages, sponged sweating and fevered bodies, changed bed linens, stoked fires, and tried to convince Lord Montfort to eat.

As his father succumbed to an ague brought on by his wound, Christian rested less and less. By the fourth day, with the Earl either delirious or unconscious the entire time, Nora feared that God would take the Earl for His own. That afternoon, though, he was lucid for a few minutes, and he came near to breaking her heart with his lack of concern for his own condition. His first thought upon awakening was for his son.

Nora was tucking a sheet under the mattress near the Earl's head when he stirred. She looked up to find a pair of dark blue eyes squinting at her. They grew round as recognition set in, but the effort to reason was too much, and he closed his eyes again before he spoke.

"My son."

"He is well, my lord. He lies beside you. He wouldn't budge, though I tried to wrest him from your side. Can I get you water?"

The Earl's hand fished blindly across the covers until it met his son's arm. "He sleeps?"

"Yes, my lord. I'll wake him. I promised I would if you woke."

"No." The Earl's hand dropped and he tried to lift his head. "No time. Tell him my wish… my wish… He should rid himself of hate. God will punish as he cannot."

Nora patted the Earl's hand, alarmed at the way his voice thinned like smoke in a gale. She had to put her head close to his to make out his words.

"Tell him I love him, and he is to—keep himself safe."

At first she thought he was dead, but then she felt the shallow movement of his chest as he breathed. The Earl's face blurred as she looked at him through her tears. He knew. He knew he had little chance of surviving, and even in dying he cared only to protect his son.

A strangled sound caused her to look up. She'd been so absorbed in the Earl, she hadn't seen Christian wake at the sound of his lather's voice. He was propped up on his forearms, one hand fisted in the coverlet near the Earl's shoulder, his face buried in the crook of his other arm.

Nora sensed more than heard one lone sob muffled by the force of an indomitable will. Heedless of her own tears, she touched Christian's bare shoulder.

"By God's mercy, leave me," he choked out.

She didn't abandon sick strays; she wasn't about to abandon this man. She walked around the bed to him, knowing what she had to do. Coming up behind him, she grasped his upper body and hauled him into her arms in a sudden, rough attack that had him cradled to her body before he knew what she intended.

His head dropped to rest naturally on her breast, and for an almost imperceptible moment he clung to her. Then he began to fight, thrusting away from her with both hands. She merely wrapped one arm around his shoulders and the other around his neck and head. Squeezing, she pressed him to her, nestling his face against her neck.

He stiffened as his lips touched her skin. He sucked in his breath, shuddered, then burrowed his face into her neck. Sensing her victory, she hugged him with all her strength, and he let out a cry of pain stopped only by her flesh. She held him, rock-ing gently back and forth, while he trembled with unspoken grief.

The privilege of holding him and comforting him lasted only a short time. Too soon he lifted his head, pulled back from her, and peered at her tear-stained face. She felt his hand tangle in the hair at the back of her head.

Slowly, while he held her gaze with his own pained-filled one, he drew her down to his lips. It was a mystery to her that a kiss could hold off grief and seek solace, yet tell her through some unspoken language that he had become pain. His lips trembled, and she could feel the same quivering in his body. She delved into his mouth, kissing him roughly in an attempt to give him the ease he needed so badly.

At last she felt the trembling cease. It was her warning. He drew back, leaving her with a craving that wouldn't soon go away. As she suspected, he withdrew his body from her and lay back with his face turned to the side. He studied his father in silence while Nora scooted off the bed. She stood with her hands buried up the cuffs of her full-over sleeves, and as the silence lengthened, her fear grew.

"Give o'er, lady," he said at last.

"My lord?"

"Give o'er, for I will not need you. You may have my wanting, but I'll never surrender to need. Think you I want to feel this agony more than once in my life?" He turned his violet eyes on her. "I've been schooled in subtleties, beguilings, and fell corruption. It is my protection, and I need no other. Now leave me."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shut his eyes and turned his face away again. She could feel the ice with which he infused his nature and knew that if she stayed, she risked an attack of words that would make burning at the stake seem a country lark. Weary and troubled, she left, closing the door to the bedchamber behind her.