Reckless Angel (29 page)

“I love you,” she whispered against the salt-sweet slickness of his chest, where his heart still pounded beneath her cheek as she curled into his embrace.

“And I you, my elf.” He reached down to stroke the soft curve of her bottom with a lethargic hand.

“'Twould be a criminal act to keep apart two people who love each other in this way,” she murmured. “Do you not agree?”

“Utterly criminal, elf.” He yawned mightily. “But
not as criminal as keeping me from my sleep after exhausting me so thoroughly.” He kissed the top of her head and fell instantly asleep.

His wife followed suit, but not before she had decided that he had given his implicit approval of her efforts to ensure just such a happy conclusion for Will and Julie.

When she awoke in a cloud-dark dawn, this was also her first thought. It made her feel immensely more cheerful, for some reason. Propping herself on one elbow, she leaned over Daniel's sleeping figure, drinking in the strong lines of his face that even unconsciousness could not weaken; the sharply delineated eyebrows; the long, curling black lashes that many a maiden would envy; the firm mouth, now relaxed. Without the habitual humorous quirk of his waking countenance, and the gentle amusement in the sharp black eyes, there was something a little intimidating about him, she found. Her hand roamed over his body, slipping beneath the covers to slide over his belly and between his thighs. With a contented smile, she felt the softness stir and harden beneath her gently squeezing fingers. She reached further, her fingers twining in the crisp, curly hair to caress the twin globes filling and hardening in their turn.

“What are you doing?” Daniel's sleepy voice, that note of amusement lurking richly in its depths, drifted down.

“Do you not know?” she exclaimed in mock amazement. “And I thought I was doing rather well. Clearly, I should redouble my efforts.” With an agile twist, she dived beneath the covers, seeking him with her mouth in the warm darkness where the loamy scents of arousal, the languid melding of limbs and skin, mingled to create a hothouse and the flower of passion sprang into bloom at the first dampening stroke of her tongue.

Daniel yielded to the glory of the moment, his hands running over her pliant back, pressing into her spine, kneading her buttocks, drawing her backward until he
could match her dewy caresses with his own, and the morning exploded with shared pleasure.

 

Daniel was in shirt and britches, humming smugly to himself as he shaved, and Henrietta was still lying naked and languidly abed, enjoying the moment of lassitude before she must rise and put on the day, when an urgent tapping came at the door.

“Daddy!” It was Lizzie's voice and Daniel went instantly to open the door.

“What is it, love?”

“'Tis Nan.” Lizzie was still in her smock and nightcap and carried an air of importance mixed with alarm. “I think she has the fever, and Mistress Kierston has gone to church.”

“I think 'tis time the church put the bread in Mistress Kierston's belly,” Daniel muttered for Harry's ears, before striding into the passage.

Henrietta struggled into her smock and tumbled out of bed, following him into the children's bedchamber. Nan was tossing and turning, kicking off the bedcovers.

“My head aches,” she moaned fretfully, as Daniel leaned over her, placing his hand on her forehead.

“She's burning,” he said, unable to conceal his anxiety. “Pray God 'tis not the smallpox.”

“I doubt it is,” Henrietta said, feeling the child's brow for herself. “There's been no cases in The Hague for several months. Do you go about your business, for I know you have much to do today. I will look after her.”

Daniel's uncertainty was for a moment writ clear upon his face. There were many things Henrietta could do better than anyone with his children, but she was not skilled at nursing, knew almost nothing of the art if the truth be told. Yet there was something about her present demeanor that inspired confidence, and she returned his look with a tiny smile that contained the hint of challenge.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “Mistress Kierston should be back soon.”

“I do not need Mistress Kierston,” she said, turning to Lizzie, who stood by the door, wide-eyed and big-eared. “Hurry and get dressed, Lizzie; then you may fetch some lavender water and bathe Nan's forehead while I prepare a soothing draught.”

Daniel hesitated for one more second, then turned and went back to the bedchamber to complete his own dressing. When he returned to the children's room, Henrietta asked him calmly to lift Nan while she removed the child's soaked smock so that she could bathe her with the cool lavender water. He did so, holding the hot little body gently as Nan moaned and complained that her skin was sore.

“There's no sign of a rash,” Henrietta reassured him, seeing the alarm in his eye. “'Tis only because of the fever. It's always so. D'ye not remember from when you were ill yourself?”

He did and nodded ruefully. “I seem to forget everything sensible when they are unwell.”

Henrietta only smiled and slipped a clean smock over Nan's head. “There, she will be more comfortable now. You may put her back on the bed and go off and do what you have to. You must have many people to see after last night's news.”

“Are you trying to be rid of me?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Aye,” she confirmed affably. “I am. You will worry too much if you stay here, and there is nothing you can do that I cannot do as well.” She shooed him toward the door. “You can go downstairs and make sure Lizzie has eaten her eggs. You know what she's like about breakfast if no one is watching her, and then she gets so cross and hungry long before dinner.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and did as she said, reaching the dining room just in time to forestall his elder daughter's attempt to dispose of the detested eggs out of the window.

“Let's pretend I did not see you,” he suggested amiably. “Sit down and eat them all up.”

Lizzie complied without demur, far too relieved by his suggestion to do more than wrinkle her nose at the laden platter in front of her. “Is Harry going to look after Nan?”

“It would seem so,” her father replied, helping himself to bacon. “You will have the great pleasure of Mistress Kierston's undivided attention.”

“But d'ye not think I should help Harry?” Lizzie regarded him hopefully across the table.

“And leave poor Mistress Kierston with nothing to do?” he exclaimed in mock horror. “How could you be so unkind, Lizzie?”

Lizzie did not look as if she appreciated this little joke. She finished her breakfast with a moue of distaste. “May I go, Daddy?”

He glanced at her empty platter and nodded. “Ask Harry to come down and have her own breakfast. You may sit with Nan until Mistress Kierston returns.”

Lizzie scampered off, and Henrietta came down within five minutes, just as Daniel was preparing to leave the house. “How is she?”

“Sleeping,” Henrietta replied. “'Tis the best medicine.”

“Aye.” He stood frowning, his hand on the door latch. “Should I summon the physician, d'ye think?”

“We will see how she is at dinnertime. Did Lizzie eat her breakfast?”

“With a degree of encouragement. I arrived just in time to rescue the eggs.” He still hesitated at the door. “You had best have your own, Harry.”

“I am not in the least hungry. Now do go, Daniel.” She gave him a little push. “D'ye not trust me to look after things?”

Daniel didn't know whether he did or not. She still struck him as such a little person, but she did seem to be radiating a fair degree of confidence at the moment. “I will be back as soon as I can,” he said, and left her smiling in the hall.

When he returned at dinnertime, he found all peaceful, Henrietta calmly in charge in the sickroom, Mistress Kierston and an obedient if resentful Lizzie at their lessons in the schoolroom, the cook in the kitchen, from whence emanated toothsome aromas, and Hilde polishing the furniture with beeswax.

“I cannot imagine why I expected to find chaos,” he said, bending over Nan, who offered him something resembling a smile. “How's my little one?” He kissed the hot forehead.

“I'm very sick,” Nan informed him in a croaky voice. “But not as sick as this morning.”

Daniel glanced at Henrietta, who nodded in confirmation. “Well, that's good to hear,” he said cheerfully, sitting on the bed. “Does your head not pain you anymore?”

“Not much,” Nan croaked. “Harry's been playing her guitar and it makes me go to sleep.”

“I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I'm going to fetch you some broth, and Daddy will help you eat it.”

Lizzie catapulted into the room at this point. “You do not know how lucky y'are to be sick, Nan,” she announced disgustedly. “I have been learning dreary psalms all morning, and I think it's quite stupid.”

“I do not think y'are qualified to be the judge of that, my child,” Daniel said. “And 'tis certainly not an opinion I care to hear you express.”

Lizzie, crestfallen, looked at her stepmother for support. Harry winked at her. “Run down to the kitchen and ask Cook to give you a bowl of broth for Nan.”

Lizzie disappeared, grinning, and Daniel, who had not missed the wink, said sternly, “If I take issue with Lizzie, I do not expect you to undermine me, Henrietta.”

“But they
are
dreary,” she said. “And it is stupid to waste a whole morning learning them. There must be more useful things she can learn.”

“Like self-discipline and restraint,” he declared. “Learning psalms will teach her both.”

Henrietta's eyebrows lifted in skeptical response and Daniel could not help laughing. “Oh, mayhap y'are right. 'Tis probably past time I reviewed matters with Mistress Kierston.”

“Will ye tell her we're not to learn psalms?” Nan's question reminded them that they had an audience, and Daniel shook his head ruefully at Henrietta.

“That is no concern of yours, Nan,” he said firmly. “Here's Lizzie with your soup.”

“Daddy's goin' to tell Mistress Kierston that we're not to learn psalms anymore,” Nan, shamelessly taking advantage of the license permitted an invalid, informed her sister as Daniel lifted her against his shoulder.

“I did not say that,” her father insisted. “I said any conversations I have with your governess are no concern of yours.”

“But that's what you meant.” Nan opened her mouth for the spoonful of soup he held.

Lizzie clapped her hands gleefully. “Will ye tell her this afternoon, Daddy?”

Henrietta doubled over with laughter in the doorway as Daniel floundered. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “Y'are nothing but trouble!”

Still laughing, she went downstairs.

Daniel joined her in a short while. “You are the most appalling influence,” he declared. “I am beginning to regret the errand I ran for you this morning. You do not deserve the consideration.”

“Oh, did you visit Lady Morris?” In all the morning's concerns, she had completely forgotten that complication in her life.

“I did. Canary?”

“If you please.” She took the goblet and waited patiently for him to continue. When, wickedly, he remained silent, apparently savoring his wine, she came over, stood on tiptoe, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I crave pardon for being nothing but trouble. I had thought I was rather useful this morning.”

He dipped a finger in his wine and very deliberately
traced the curve of her lips. Her tongue darted to lick the wine-tipped finger, and, smiling, he repeated the process, clearly enjoying the funny little game, until she suddenly sucked his finger into her mouth and closed her pearly teeth upon it. “Vixen!”

“Tell me what Lady Morris had to say.”

For answer, he took a deep draught of wine and clasped her head firmly, holding the wine in his mouth as he slowly brought his lips against hers, forcing them open and filling the warm, sweet cavern of her mouth with the wine from his own. Henrietta found it the most enticing sensation, the coolness of the wine mingling with the warmth of his probing tongue, the taste of wine and Daniel so deliciously melded that she forgot all else in her utter concentration on this unusual and entrancing kiss.

When he finally took his mouth from hers, she remained perfectly motionless, as if her head were still held, face upturned, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “More?” he asked. She nodded vigorously, still without opening her eyes, and he chuckled. “Such a sensual little thing y'are, my elf.” Taking another draught of wine, he kissed her again.

“Oh!”

The startled gasp from the door brought an abrupt end to the game. Daniel looked over Harry's head to where Lizzie stood, wide-eyed.

“I thought 'twas dinnertime,” she mumbled.

“It is,” Henrietta said cheerfully, turning around. “There's no need to be uncomfortable, Lizzie, just because Daddy was kissing me. Married people do it all the time.”

“They also prefer other people to knock upon doors before they open them,” Daniel said wryly. “Try to remember that in future.” A brisk pat sent the child ahead of him into the dining room. “I give you good day, Mistress Kierston.”

“Good day, Sir Daniel.” The governess was standing at her usual place at the table and curtsied to her employer before turning her attention to Lizzie. “You
have neglected to comb your hair, Elizabeth. I do beg your pardon, Sir Daniel, but I was busy with Nan and failed to notice.”

“I am certain we can overlook it today,” Henrietta said. “It has been a troublesome morning and Lizzie has been most helpful, has she not, Daniel?”

“I am sure of it,” he said, meeting his wife's gleaming eye. “I do not think we need worry ourselves over a little untidiness on this occasion, Mistress Kierston.” He began to carve the green goose, generously heaping the governess's plate with the cuts he knew she preferred.