More Than Willing (12 page)

“Fine nurse you’d make.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. I asked for volunteers and no one stepped forward.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so. And I don’t blame them. They knew what a terrible patient you’d probably be.”

Gray paused. “Was I that bad?”

She smiled. “No.”

“I’m sorry about the nightmare.”

“Don’t be. I can’t help
but wonder though—”

“Forget it.” His tone was much harsher than he intended. He thought he was over those bloody nightmares but should have known the laudanum the doctor gave him would bring them back. And Maggie Bradford was the last person he wanted around when one came to haunt him.

“Thank you for everything you did.” He hoped his compliment would bring a little color back into her cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything. I’m just glad whoever fired at you was such a poor shot.”

“Tell my shoulder that.” Gray clenched his teeth as a new stab of pain jolted him. “It’s informing me that whoever fired at me was a bloody good shot.”

“Yes, I suppose it does seem like that.”

She rose from her chair and lifted a china pot to pour some steaming liquid into a cup.

“If that has laudanum in it… I don’t want it.”

“No laudanum.” She brought the cup toward his mouth. “Only some of Cook’s finest herbal tea. Guaranteed to heal you faster than anything the doctor could have given you.”

“I’d rather drink some of Bradford’s finest a
le. Do you think—”

“Perhaps we’ll try that tomorrow.”

He had no choice but to take a swallow of the warm liquid. Even though he’d never admit it to her, it tasted wonderful. “Tell Cook thank you,” he said when he finished, “even though I’d rather have—”

“I know. Some of Bradford’s finest ale. I’ll convey your appreciation for the tea, along with your eager anticipation to taste the broth she’s spent all morning preparing.”

“Broth?” He gave her as menacing a glare as he could manage. “Oh, no you don’t. I refuse to be put on a diet of bland broth and dry toast. Either Cook finds a meat pie and some warm bread with butter and jam along with a large slice of fruit pie somewhere in her kitchen, or I’m getting out of this bed and going to the nearest inn to eat.”

He prepared himself for her argument. Instead, she smiled the most enchanting smile he’d ever seen. All of a sudden his shoulder didn’t ache at all. The catch he felt came from a place deep inside the center of his chest.

“Very well,” she said on a sigh he could tell was highly exaggerated. “If you insist, I suppose I could convince Cook to find a small meat pie somewhere in her kitchen along with a warm slice of bread or two.”

“And a fruit pie,” he added in the most stern tone of voice he was capable of.

“I don’t know about—”

“Preferably peach.”

“Peach?”

“Or a custard.”

She put the tea cup back on the bedside table and stared at him with her huge, round, dark eyes, then dropped her head back and laughed the most hearty, feminine laugh he’d ever heard. He thought he would die on the spot.

“You certainly
are
demanding. I can see you intend to take as much advantage of the situation as you possibly can.”

“I most certainly do. It’s not every day someone fires a bullet at me.”

He didn’t intend for his words to have such a sobering affect, but the color drained from her face with amazing speed. He wanted to reach for her, touch her, comfort her. But she held herself too far away from him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Did you see who shot you?”

He shook his head.

“Do you know why someone would?”

“I can’t think of a reason except either someone found out I was trying to purchase the King’s Crown for Bradford Brewery and didn’t want that to happen. Or, someone thinks I’m spending too much time with you and the bullet was their way of warning me to stay away.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I doubt anyone cares
with whom I spend my time, so—”

“Do you?”

He loved the rosy tint that blossomed in her cheeks and the demure way her gaze couldn’t meet his. Hell, but she was enticing.

“Of course. The only p
erson who might even notice is—”

“Your cousin,” he finished for her.

Her gaze darted to meet his and the look of shock on her face was almost comical.

“Surely you don’t think Cousin Lyman would shoot you just because you… you paid me a certain amount of attention?”

“Have you forgotten how determined he was to shower you with his attention, and how angry he became when I interrupted his pursuit?”

“No, but he wasn’t serious. He doesn’t really want the brewery. He’s just of the old fashioned mindset that considers all women helpless individuals who can’t manage without a man telling them every move to make. He thinks it’s his duty to take care of me because he’s next in line to inherit
Father’s title and estate. In his way of thinking, marriage is the most logical answer to his problem, and to mine.”

Gray made a conscious effort to close his gaping mouth. Was she really that naïve? “Considering what Cousin Lyman has to gain by marrying you, I think it’s easy to think he might wish to get rid of anyone he sees as competition.”

“But I told him, just as I told you, that I don’t intend to marry anyone.”

“Perhaps he didn’t believe you any more than I do.”

He knew that would elicit a reaction and he nearly burst out laughing when she plopped her fists on her hips and glared at him.

“Then you’d best reevaluate what you believe. I have no intention of ever marrying.”

“Just what are you running away from, Maggie, my love?”

“I’m not running away from anything, Mr. Delaney. And stop calling me Maggie,
my love. I am Miss Bradford to you. And I’m most assuredly
not
your love.”

Gray thought of two or three glib remarks to counter her vow to remain unmarried but kept them to himself. He didn’t know if it was the laudanum the doctor had given him the night before, or if it was waking up to find her sitting at his side, or if getting shot had jolted him with a dose of eye-opening reality. Whatever it was, for the first time in his life, the path he wanted his future to take flashed before him with startling clarity.

Lyman Bradford would never have Maggie as his wife, because she was going to be Mrs. Grayson Delaney.

He wanted to laugh
, to throw his head back and howl to the rising sun. He wanted to shout to the four corners of the earth and tell the world that he’d just experienced the greatest revelation known to man. And it couldn’t be more perfect.

She
couldn’t be more perfect.

His father may have given Gray the title to Bradford Brewery and expected him to fail, but he wasn’t going to. In fact, his brewery was going to be a huge success.

Who knew better how to run a brewery than Maggie? Who had seen to the day in and day out details of the brewing season every year since her mother had died? Maggie. Who would be more perfect at his side than Maggie?

Oh, he may not love her, not yet anyway. And perhaps he never would. But what did love matter. She would be good for him. He would be good to her. Together they would be
an ideal match. With Maggie making up for all he didn’t know about the brewery business, he couldn’t fail.

He could see it now. In a very few year’s time, he was going to be as rich as Croesus. Then, he’d march back to London and let his father see that he hadn’t been defeated.

Since the night of the fire he’d known his father would never forgive him. Since that night he’d realized his father would do everything in his power to make Gray pay for what he’d done. How could he expect it to be any different? His sin had been that grievous. But Gray had no intention of being defeated.

His father had given him the brewery because he was certain Gray would fail to earn a living from it. He’d given him Mayfair Manor because he knew Gray would never step foot in it again. Well, his father was right on only one point. It would be a cold day in hell before he’d ever look at the place
again. But there was no way he’d fail to earn a very good living from the brewery.

Gray looked back at the frown on Maggie’s face. “You still haven’t answered my question. What is it you’re running from?”

“I don’t know why you assume I must be running from something just because I refuse to marry. Not everyone wants to marry.”

“Don’t they?”

“Of course they don’t. You are a perfect example.”

“Are you suggesting that I don’t want to marry?”

“I’m not merely suggesting it,” she said on a laugh. “I’m stating a well-known fact. Everyone knows you’ve outrun more parsons’ nooses than any eligible bachelor in England.”

“That’s because I hadn’t met the person I wanted to catch me.”

She gave him a well-deserved angry glare. “Or the person who possessed something you wanted badly enough to sacrifice your freedom to get.”

“You wound me.” He placed his hand over his injured shoulder.

“No, I didn’t wound you. No doubt it was someone’s irate husband who just now tracked you down and wanted to teach you a lesson.”

Gray shook his head. “Ah, Maggie,
my love. Whoever did this wanted to teach me a lesson, that’s for sure. But it had something to do with the brewery or with you.”

“We’ve already covered that assumption.” She issued an unladylike harrumph and she spun away from him, then gave the bell pull a hard yank. “I think I’ll see if Cook has a leftover meat pie from a week or two ago that might poison you.”

Gray chuckled to himself, but held silent while Maggie told the young serving girl who’d answered the summons what she wanted. When the girl left, he watched her clear off the table beside the bed to make room for the food the girl was to bring. When she finished, he couldn’t resist asking his question one more time. “You still haven’t told me what you’re running from.”

She stopped. “And I have no intention of doing so. Unless you answer a question for me.”

“Anything, Maggie. What is it you want to know?”

“How far is it to Mayfair Manor?”

If Gray
hadn’t been lying in bed, he would have fallen to the floor. “Why do you want to know anything about Mayfair Manor?”

“Because I’m intrigued by it.”

“Well, don’t be. There’s nothing there that is of interest to anyone.”

“Now who is avoiding answering a question?”

“Your question has nothing to do with anything important.”

“Doesn’t it?” she
asked. “After last night, I think Mayfair Manor has a great deal to do with everything about you.”

Gray’s blood ran cold. No one ever mentioned Mayfair. In fact, everyone he knew made a conscious effort to avoid any mention of the place that had changed all their lives forever. Maggie Bradford was either very foolish or very brave.

“What happened last night that makes you want to know about a place I haven’t thought about for nearly fifteen years?”

She
kept her gaze locked with his. He didn’t want her to answer his question, but couldn’t afford not to find out. Fragments of his recent nightmare appeared with enough clarity to make his skin break out in a cold sweat.

“Nothing in particular. You mentioned it and that made me curious.”

Gray swiped the sleeve of his uninjured arm across his forehead. “What exactly did I say?”

“It wasn’t
what you said, but how you said it that made me think the place held some significance.”

“Then you’re mistaken.”

“Why are you afraid to talk about it?”

“I’m not afraid
.” He wiped his damp palms on the covers. “What I can’t figure out is why you’re not as interested in how I fared with Geordie Briars last night.”

Her gaze darted to meet his and she stepped nearer the bed. “I am interested. Were you serious when you said your meeting was successful?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the anxious expression on her face. He breathed a sigh of relief because he’d averted her thoughts from Mayfair Manor.

“How much did Mr. Briars demand for his inn?” she asked.

He put a frown on his face just to see her expression grow more worried. “Now that,” he said, trying to let his voice match his demeanor, “didn’t go exactly as I’d anticipated. Ol’ Geordie drove a hard bargain.”

“How hard?”

He tried to shrug but gave up the effort when a sharp pull shot through his shoulder. “I tried to point out all the risks we were taking in buying an inn that would have to go under new management. What if the clientele only patronized the King’s Crown because they were fond of him?”

“How much did you have to offer him?”

“Or, what if it was his wife’s cooking that brought them to the inn? You know, a good cook is hard to find.”

“How much?”

She was on her feet now and he couldn’t help but smile at how her worry was turning to anger. “And then, of course, I had to offer Geordie extra to stay on until we found someone new to run the inn.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s
sake! How much did you have to—”

A rap at the door stopped her in mid sentence.

“Oh, good,” he said before she could ask again. “That must be my breakfast. Would you answer that, Maggie, my love?”

“I am
not your love.”

“Aren’t you? Surely a man has a right to call his betrothed,
my love?”

“I am
not
your betrothed!”

The maid knocked a second time and Maggie turned her back on him with a swish of her skirts to open the door. “Just put it on the table,” she said in a sharp, angry tone. The maid gave her mistress a puzzled look which delighted him more.

He tried to ease the maid’s confusion. “Thank you… uh…”

“Molly, sir.”

“Thank you, Molly.”

“You’re welcome, sir. And Cook says to tell you she has another slice of peach pie in the kitchen that she’s keeping warm for you.”

Gray gave the girl a smile so heart-stopping it turned her cheeks a blazing red. “Tell Cook it’s a good thing she’s a happily married woman or we’d run away to Gretna Green.”

“Oh, sir.
” Molly clasped her hand over her mouth to stop the giggles. “Is there anything else you need, sir? If there is—”

“No, Molly,” Maggie answered for him. “That will be all. You may go now.”

“Yes, Miss.” The maid rushed from the room, still giggling.

“You’re incorrigible,” Maggie said when they were alone. “You think that a smile and a few words of praise are all you need to get anything you want.”

“There’s more?” He took a bite of the meat pie Maggie placed in his lap.

“Yes, there’s more! Can’t you be serious about
anything! You’re just like my—”

Gray chewed the food he’d put in his mouth with deliberate slowness. “…father?”

She looked at him for a short second, then breathed a deep sigh that made her shoulders sag in resignation.

“Is being like your father so terrible?” he asked, taking another bite of the food that didn’t taste as perfect as it had a moment ago.

“Yes, it is.”

“Surely he has
some redeeming qualities.” Gray pushed the food around on his tray. “Or his greatest sin is only that he finds humor in every situation?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and her huge brown eyes narrowed when she looked at him. “No, Mr. Delaney, his greatest sin
isn’t that he finds humor in every situation. It’s that he uses his humor to laugh away every problem.”

She paced to the end of the bed then walked back and assumed her rigid stance. “His sin
is that he can gamble away our entire earnings for the year and laugh because luck wasn’t on his side, but he’s positive it will be next time. His sin is that he allowed Mother to work day and night to keep his brewery from bankruptcy and laughingly teased her because she wouldn’t go to London with him to have a good time. His sin is that with a laugh and a smile, he’ll pack his valise and leave his family behind to work to cover the debts he will amass. His sin is—”

She stopped short as if she realized how much she’d revealed and pressed her fingers to her temples. “How much did you have to offer Mr. Briars for the
King’s Crown?”

Gray reached for the ale still on the table at his bedside. “The papers are in my jacket pocket,” he said when he’d taken a swallow.

She took his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled out the papers he and Geordie Briars had written up over several generous tankards of ale. He wanted to make some glib comment about her being able to read his writing but stopped himself. That was probably something her father would do.

He watched her read the words then took great satisfaction when her jaw dropped and she sank down on the chair.

“Who drew this up?” she asked still scanning the two pages over which he’d worked so laboriously.

“I did.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“You?”

His heart raced in his chest. He and Geordie had put away enough ale to drown a platoon of men, but he didn’t think he’d been so drunk that he hadn’t known what he was doing.

“Yes. Is something wrong with it?”

“You got Geordie Briars to sign this?”

“Of course I got Geordie Briars to sign it. Why is that so impossible to believe?”

Gray felt his temper rise, something he never let happen.

“But surely that’s not the price he agreed on for the King’s Crown.”

Her hands shook as she held out the papers. Gray took them with a snap and glanced down. “Bloody hell, woman. What’s wrong with that? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“But that’s not nearly what the King’s Crown is worth.”

“Probably not,” he said with a growing sense of confusion.

She looked at him then back to the papers again. “Even the Jolly Seaman sold for more than this!”

“Which means…?” He stamped down a hint of irritation while he waited for her to answer.

She flipped from the first page to the second page then back to the first. “But how did you ever… I mean… Oh, Gray. You nearly stole it from Mr. Briars.”

She sounded almost mournful in her accusation.

“If it bothers you so blasted much I can always go back and offer Geordie more.”

“Oh, no. That’s not what I mean
. It’s just that…well, that—”

“Considering how much I remind you of your father, you were positive that I’d fail,” he finished for her.

Her cheeks turned a deep red and her gaze wavered when she tried to look him in the eyes. “I didn’t think you’d fail…exactly. I just didn’t think you’d manage to be so successful.”

“Perhaps that’s because I’m not such
an exact replica of your father.” He finished the glass of ale. “Or are you still convinced that’s not possible?”

“Oh, yes—
I mean, no.” She dropped her hands to her lap. “To be honest, I don’t know what you are.”

“Well
, that’s a comfort. My goal is to keep the women guessing.”

“Oh, be serious. You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t. Sometimes I think you want me to be like your father so badly that you’re disappointed when I’m not.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? It’s as if the more I’m different from your father the bigger a threat I become. Why is that, Maggie?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why on earth would I consider you a threat?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

“I
can’t because you’re not! Now—”

“Maggie! Maggie!”

The door burst open and a vision almost as beautiful as Maggie rushed into the room.

“What is it, Felicity?”

“You have to come down right away. Cousin Lyman is here and he’s in a terrible state. He knows Mr. Delaney is here and he’s threatening to send some of the workers up to carry him away. He says it’s not proper to have a man living in the same house with four single females.”

“Oh, for mercy’s sake!” Maggie
turned toward the door.

“Maggie, stay here.” Gray reached for the edge of the covers. “Let me talk to him.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” She darted toward the bed and jerked the covers from his hand. “I’m not about to have you bleed all over my carpet. Besides, you’re not dressed and Felicity will faint on the spot if you get out of bed without being fully clothed.”

“Then perhaps Miss Felicity should leave.”

He held the covers as close to his chin as possible while eying his clothes hanging over the back of the chair. He couldn’t reach them without embarrassing her to death.

“Felicity is staying
right here. And so is Charlotte.” Maggie looked toward the door where a second young lady stood. “Charlotte come in here,” she pulled the other girl into the room, “and lock the door after me.”

“What if Cousin Lyman comes up?”

“He won’t,” Maggie said, then rushed from the room.

The minute she was gone, the younger of the two girls threw the bolt with a loud clang and pressed her back against the door
and stared at him.

“You must be Mr. Delaney
?” She stepped beside her sister. Although she ventured closer, they both kept a long arm’s distance away from the bed and watched him cautiously.

“
Yes.” He faked a polite nod in the girls’ direction. He’d never tried to make an introduction in a sitting position before. “Grayson Delaney at your service.”

“I’m Charlotte Bradford, and this is my sister Felicity.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bradford. Miss Bradford.”

“Aunt Hester gave strict orders to come up here with Felicity to protect her virtue,” the younger of the two sisters announced, her observant gaze
scrutinizing him. “She said you weren’t the sort refined young ladies should be left alone with.”

“Lottie!” the older sister countered, mortification written all over her reddening face.

“Well, she did,” the one called Lottie answered. “But I can’t imagine what she was worried about. Anyone can see he’s in no condition to threaten anyone’s virtue. What I want to know is what you did to make Aunt Hester so concerned? She’s usually quite contemporary.”

Gray cleared his throat as his mind searched for an adequate answer. “I made the mistake of allowing your aunt to know me when I was younger.” He gave them a knowing glance followed by a wink. “I was not nearly so refined then.”

“Oh,” they both whispered on a sigh.

Gray intended to change the subject, but before he could accomplish that, the younger sister narrowed her gaze and frowned at him.

“But if
we
can’t associate with you, why is it acceptable for Maggie to?”

“Charlotte! I can’t believe you’re being so forward!”

The sister called Charlotte gave her sister a dismissive glance then turned back to Gray. “Mama always told me that the only way I was going to learn anything was to ask. So I’m asking. Why is it all right for Maggie to associate with you?”