Silent Revenge (16 page)

Jessica threw one after another of the heavy blankets Sanjay handed her over Northcote, tucking the edges as tightly as possible around his broad shoulders and long torso, beneath his narrow waist and hips and then down his muscled legs. She barely had one spot tucked in before he’d thrash about, ripping the covers from his body and pushing them to the floor.

Jessica sat at his side for what seemed an eternity, the endless hours running into each other.

The sun rose, then sank behind a wall of clouds. For all of one day and through the night of the next, she bathed him in cool, wet cloths when the fever drenched his body, then covered him with as many warm blankets as Sanjay handed her when the chills overtook him. While she battled to cool Northcote’s fever and warm his chills, Sanjay struggled to keep his failing arms from doing either of them any harm. Northcote repeatedly mumbled thoughts and fragmented sentences that, except for an isolated word here and there, Jessica could not begin to make out.

Not until the sun was high in the sky on the second day did Simon breathe a heavy sigh and fall into a peaceful sleep.

Jessica put her hand to his forehead and felt his cool flesh, then brought her fisted hand to her mouth to stop the cry of relief that wanted to soar from somewhere deep within her.

She stood at his bedside and wiped the lone tear that spilled down her cheek. Every inch of her body hurt, and she rolled her shoulders to ease the burning muscles across her back, then looked into Sanjay’s emotion-filled eyes. “The fever has broken, Sanjay. I think the master will sleep now.”

“The fever very bad this time, missy. I was much worried.”

Jessica straightened the covers that lay across Northcote’s chest, then looked up into the deep worry lines that covered Sanjay’s face. “You need to rest, Sanjay. I’ll sit with him while you get some sleep.”

“I cannot let you, missy. The master would not like knowing that you have come to take care of him.”

“The master will never find out. Besides, I would like to stay with him for a while. It is my place. If he shows any signs of waking, I will send for you immediately.”

A slight smile covered Sanjay’s face. “Very well, missy. You can sit with the master while I rest. I will not be long.”

“And have Mrs. Graves prepare you something to eat.”

“Yes, missy. Thank you, missy.”

Sanjay made several low bows and then walked behind her. Jessica turned in her chair to follow him. “Who is Sarah, Sanjay?”

Jessica waited a long time for him to answer. “It is Sarai, missy.”

“Was she someone the master knew in India?”

“Yes.”

“Was the master fond of her?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Yes, missy. The master was very fond of her.”

“I see,” Jessica whispered and then looked at the man sleeping peacefully on the bed. When Jessica turned back, she was alone in the room. Alone with the man she’d taken as her husband just three days ago. The man who, even weak as a kitten, caused her heart to pound in her chest and her flesh to tingle. The man who had loved and lost someone in India by the name of Sarai.

Jessica lowered her weary body to the chair beside his bed and studied his chiseled features. With trembling fingers she reached out and lifted the errant lock of hair that fell to his forehead. Then, with hesitant moves, she worked her way downward, across his high, angled cheekbones, over the thick, coarse stubble that prickled the soft pads of her fingers, then against the strong, rigid contours of his jaw.

Touching him caused a thousand fiery shooting stars to soar through her body, igniting a strange heat that swelled and burned deep in her stomach. Touching him while he slept caused a myriad of confusing sensations. She had never touched a man before. She could not believe the feel of his flesh against hers could cause such intense heat to spread to every part of her body.

Jessica lifted her hand from Simon’s face, then moved it lower, to the dark wisps of hair that covered his chest. How many times had she stared at that bronzed triangle peeking out beneath his shirt, wanting to touch it? More than she cared to remember.

Several trembling breaths later, Jessica pressed her hand against his chest again. With deliberate caution, she slowly moved her fingers upward, resting the pads of her two fingers in the hollow of his neck, feeling the steady beating of his heart.

She lightly skimmed her hands across the hard lines of his shoulders and down the bulging muscles of his arms. He was beautiful to look upon. Her hand finally rested atop his hand lying fat on the covers.

She compared his dark skin to her pale flesh, then shifted her hand beneath his. Palm to palm, flesh to flesh, warmth radiating warmth. She twined her fingers within his and marveled at the feel of him. His mammoth grasp dwarfed her smaller one, and a strange and powerful strength seeped through her body. A strength she’d never felt before. A force she didn’t want to be without.

He moved, tossing his head to the side, holding her hand in a crushing grip. “Sarai? Sarai! Oh Lord, no.”

“Shh,” she whispered in his ear, pressing her cheek against his face. “Everything’s all right, Simon. Everything’s fine.”

He relaxed beneath her, his grip on her hand loosening, his harsh breathing slowing. For a little while, he was at peace.

Jessica bathed his face and chest again and then sat on the edge of the bed, her slippered feet tucked beneath her to keep them warm and Simon’s hand nestled in her lap because she could not let go of him. She stared into the rigid contours of his face. He was indeed incredible. And asleep he did not seem nearly so angry with her. Not nearly so disappointed in her.

She brought his fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips to his flesh, remembering the one kiss they’d shared before.

“Cold…so…cold.”

He shivered violently, and Jessica tucked the covers closer around him. She had to keep him warm. Jessica hesitated, then stretched out beside him and held his hand to her breast while he slept.

The sun was high in the sky when she opened her eyes. A heavy blue blanket had been draped across them both, and Simon’s arm was wrapped around her shoulder holding her close. Her head rested upon his chest in a most unseemly fashion while her hand angled down over his bare stomach. The steady rise and fall of his chest soothed her entire body.

Jessica cautiously slid from the bed, making sure not to disturb him, then tucked the covers back around him. She placed her hand on his forehead and sighed with relief when she found it cool to her touch. When she turned, she saw Sanjay sitting in the corner, watching her. She put her finger to her lips and tiptoed to the door.

“I think he will be all right now, Sanjay.”

“Missy very brave. Demon fever very strong this time. I am very glad you were not afraid. The master had much need of you. Even if he did not really know you were here.”

“I must go,” she said, facing the dark-skinned man. There was much understanding in his eyes—too much understanding. “Come for me if you need anything.”

“Yes, missy. And for this time we will not let the master know you were here.”

Jessica shook her head. “There is no need for him to know.”

She took a deep breath and quickly went back to her room. She would never let Simon know she had seen his sickness. He was so proud; he would not want to know she’d seen him like that. Nor would he want to know she’d slept beside him and held him with such familiarity. That would be equally as embarrassing. For them both.

Chapter 9

J
essica placed the light peach-patterned chiffon sample next to the willow-green silk and stood back. No. It still wasn’t right. It needed more color.

She threw the material on a growing pile of discarded samples and reached for a scrap of emerald-green satin. After laying the fabrics next to each other, she stepped back to see the results. An unexpected burst of excitement raced through her body. Yes. Oh yes! The familiar rush of elation she felt whenever she completed that perfect design or found that perfect match made her want to dance around the room.

With quick steps she raced to her cluttered work desk and searched for a charcoal pencil. She shoved the design she’d been working onto the floor and began again. The dress was all wrong. The skirt too narrow and plain. It needed to be more elegant. More voluminous. She outlined the shape. Rounder. Fuller. At least three flounces. No, four. A foot deep, one layered atop the next.

Jessica drew the lines of each layer. Each flounce would be trimmed with yards of the loosely rolled peach chiffon hung in soft scallops and gathered at one-foot intervals. Each tuck would then be fastened with a large rosette made from the emerald-green satin and accented with deep maroon tufts around each flower.

The skirt alone would require at least one hundred and fifty of the smaller flowers, three inches in diameter. No, four. And the bodice…

Oh, the bodice. Jessica sketched the tiny waist made to look even smaller by the full gathers of the skirt, then drew the lines upward. The shoulders would be bare. A décolletage so low and daring it would turn every eye in the room. A covering of the loosely rolled peach chiffon would follow the top of the gown, barely concealing the rise of creamy flesh. And the center of the bodice would dip lower still.

A large emerald-green rosette would adorn the front of the gown, making the dip between the breasts a focal point that could not be ignored. A matching flower would be placed in the slight V at the waist and another in the back.

Jessica couldn’t sketch the design fast enough. She showed each tuck and gather with the greatest precision and outlined each decorative rosette with infinite detail.

The Duchess of Hawthorn had commissioned a special gown to be designed for the queen’s birthday celebration in June. Madame Lamont had given it to her when she’d been to see her five days ago. The same evening her husband had displayed his anger, then forbade her to ever leave the house without his permission.

The same night she’d cooled his fevered face and held his chilled body close to hers.

Jessica breathed a sigh and then sat back in her chair. Her gaze fell to the note on the floor, and she went to open the door. “Good morning, Martha.”

“Good afternoon, my lady. I’m afraid you’ve worked much longer than you thought. It’s already the middle of the day.”

“Oh.” Jessica looked at the sun, far past its noontime place high in the sky. “It’s almost finished,” she said, holding out the design. “What do you think?”

Jessica waited while Martha perused the gown. She saw her servant’s eyes widen and her brows rise. And then Martha beamed a broad smile.

“Oh, mistress. It’s beautiful. And with the duchess’s dark skin and golden hair it will be breathtaking.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Jessica held the paper in her hands and looked at it once more. For a moment, she wondered what it might be like to be able to put on a gown this lovely and swirl around a ballroom in the arms of someone special. To be able to hear the music and the soft sighs of admiration when she walked into a room. To have every pair of eyes focus on her with a smile on their faces instead of a frown and a hushed comment no one realized she understood.

As soon as the thought materialized, Jessica dismissed it. She hadn’t had these foolish dreams since she’d been young. Before she realized how much her deafness would change her life. She couldn’t imagine why she was having them now.

“Perhaps you can bring me a tray, Martha. I still need to make a few adjustments to the sleeves.”

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but the master is waiting for you in his study.”

“The master? Lord Northcote?”

Martha’s lips lifted to form a shy smile. “Yes, my lady.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, my lady. He only asked that you join him in his study at your earliest convenience.”

Jessica tried to look relaxed. “Thank you, Martha.” She tried to pretend that being summoned to her husband’s side for the first time since her marriage did not alarm her. “Tell Lord Northcote I will be right down.”