SoundsofLove (15 page)

All he could say was, “I wish the timing had worked in our
favor.”

She rose in a swift, graceful movement and strode past him
towards her studio. “You have me at a disadvantage today, Julian. Don’t waste
this opportunity to best me.”

He was rigid in his chair as he considered what had just
occurred. Fiona Aubrey had offered herself to him, wanted to mother his
children, and he had turned her down without a pause. Well, half a pause, but
not a serious consideration. Cathryn Sibley was in his blood, and no other
would do. He had just proven that to himself unequivocally.

With a grin, he followed Fiona’s trouser-clad figure down
the hall. It helped that his balls were as empty as they had been in a decade.
Four times he’d come inside Cathryn, four times she’d milked him and each
release had surpassed the one before. She was his equal, his perfect mate, and
she might already be nurturing his child.

And he would see her in three hours.

Julian left the studio an hour later with a lighter spirit.
He’d outdone Master Aubrey ten out of twelve rounds, a personal best. Unfortunately,
it hadn’t come at a group lesson where he could brag about it. The street was
swarming with carriages, and he saw his coach a block away. He jostled through
the crowd on the sidewalk, his thoughts on seeing Cathryn, and possibly
stopping at a jewelry store to pick up a pair of earrings for her. Emeralds—

A large man came alongside him and bumped him slightly.

Another man in front slowed, but Julian was distracted and
barely noticed.

A third man boxed him in from behind before Julian became aware
of the danger. He was ill-equipped when a sharp blade was stuck under his
jacket, steering him pointedly off the busy walkway into a narrow alley three
doors down from Fiona’s.

Julian jerked away from the knife just as the front man
slammed his enormous fist into Julian’s gut and emptied his lungs of all air.
The knife followed, with a searing sting bursting from the wound, but Julian
had no breath to protest.

In seconds, they had taken him down, and one kicked him in
the arm with a heavy boot before they turned back to the crowd. Intense pain
radiated from his shoulder and belly.

They hadn’t robbed him, or spoken in any way, and it cost
him great effort to call out, “Say there, who sent you?”

“We’re the duke’s men,” the burliest one said over his
shoulder, as if that absolved them of the assault. “Leave off the translation.”

“What duke?” he asked weakly. If the man responded, Julian
didn’t hear as he faded into the oblivion of pain and shock.

Julian woke with a pounding headache in Fiona’s guest room.
He’d been in here once or twice and recognized the deep blue fleur-de-lis print
wallpaper and bed coverings. He tried to prop himself on one elbow but fell
back with a cry of agony at the explosions of pain. His shoulder was dislocated
his belly sliced, and his entire body throbbed in discomfort.

“Stay still, my lord. We’ll set this right,” a voice said
from beyond his sight, and then a tall physician Julian recognized as one of
Fiona’s pupils came into view. “I wish you’d stayed unconscious another five
minutes.”

Julian gritted his teeth and spit out invectives while the
man popped the displaced bone back into place. After a blast of blinding pain,
the agony subsided, replaced by a pounding ache. “You’ve lost a great deal of
blood, my lord, although the wound isn’t deep. I fear there may be injuries to
your spine. I’d like you to stay here for a few days.”

Fiona appeared at the bedside, wearing her black shirt with
a crimson skirt and her hair pulled back as if she’d been assisting the man. “A
few days under my roof and you’ll do anything I ask.”

Julian tried to summon a laugh, but his body failed him and
he said weakly, “I’ve always done everything you’ve asked, Fiona.”

The doctor looked flustered at the sound of her name and
Julian cursed himself for not observing Fiona’s rule. It was Master Aubrey
under this roof unless they were alone, and few men used her given name at all.

She winked before she turned away. “I can see you’re going
to be a difficult patient.”

Fiona’s patient. How many times had he dreamt this
particular scenario? Although he assumed a duel would bring him to her care,
he’d imagined the former camp follower nursing him a thousand times. If she put
on the white cap nurses were known for, he might have an instant erection in
spite of his injuries. When she’d told stories of the men she’d saved near and
even on the battlefields, he’d ached to be one of those wounded soldiers, to
have her hands stroking his brow in comfort. A juvenile dream, but it lasted a
lifetime, amplified after she fell in love with his father while caring for
him.

The gods must be laughing their arses off today. He was in
Fiona’s bed, and she was separated from his father. He sank into his pillow and
thought of Cathryn. He’d only known her a week—truly, less than a week. A few
minutes alone in her presence, and he pounced on her. An hour, and he proposed.
It was insane. She was beautiful, desirable and stimulating, but was she worth
giving up this opportunity with Fiona Aubrey?

What was he thinking? He’d given his word. “Please, send for
Lady Sibley. I need to know she’s safe.”

“I’ll let her know what’s occurred, of course.” Fiona’s
voice cooled. “I understand there’s a bevy of Ahlquist footmen at her
townhouse. I’m certain she’s safe there.”

Something in Fiona’s tone unnerved him. “Send for her,
please.”

“Of course.” She gestured to a footman stationed by the
door, and Julian sighed his relief as the man left the room.

The ache in his side and shoulder throbbed along with the
pounding in his head, and he nodded when the doctor offered him laudanum. If
ever there was a night to get drugged and sleep, this was it.

Fiona answered a knock at the bedroom door, and Rune
Darbonne entered just as Julian was accepting the spoonful of opium.

“Dear God, Ahlquist, we heard you’d been attacked.” Julian
was glad to see him, and he managed a smile when the man added, “At least they
spared your face.”

He nodded and rested back on the pillow. “They said they
were the duke’s men, and to leave off the translation.”

“Damn. Do you know a duke associated with Hedges?”

“No, but someone at the club will know.”

Fiona came to his side. “The Duke of Clarendon has been
privately funding Hedges’ research for some years.”

All the men looked at her with incredulity.

Julian shook his head slightly in amusement as he felt the
effects of the drug edging into his system. Fiona was a marvel. “Well,
Darbonne, I suggest you begin with the Duke of Clarendon. Hire some men, Bow
Street runners or such, to go with you, or bring the authorities here tomorrow.
I understand I’ll be under Master Aubrey’s care for some days.”

“Clarendon lives south of Oxford this time of year.” At the
men’s skeptical looks, her eyes narrowed. “There are only twenty-two dukes. It’s
not so difficult to keep track of them.”

All three men retreated slightly. She might not be well
read, but she could probably coordinate a war effort.

A tingling in Julian’s fingertips was the first recognizable
sign that his pain was about to give way to deep languor, and he struggled to
stay in the conversation.

Darbonne made for the door. “I’ll alert the authorities and
find some men to accompany me to Oxford tomorrow.” He paused with his hand on
the door handle. “Master Aubrey, is there a defense for what happened to Lord Ahlquist?”

Fiona’s icy-blue eyes turned to gaze at Julian with a mix of
culpability and compassion. “Were you daydreaming?”

Visions of Cathryn in emeralds flashed through his mind. “A
bit.” His eyelids grew heavy, and he wanted to return to his erotic thoughts of
Cathryn.

“Don’t.” No smile from Fiona, but her voice held
considerably less disgust than she usually showed for such blunders. “Not in
public.”

Of course.

Fiona stared at the brown paper packet of herbs in her hand
and shook her head. Every month since she’d lost her virginity, she’d taken
these herbs for three evenings in a row, just prior to the expected start of
her courses. Tansy, mostly, with wild carrot and Queen Anne’s lace. It was her
mother’s recipe, and it served her well.

But this month was different. She wanted a child more than
her next breath, and the need had grown to be intolerable. Noel had made love
to her a dozen times in the past month, but he grew furious when she suggested
they raise a child together. A laughingstock, and he wouldn’t have that. He
couldn’t marry her while his wife lived. Killing the dreary woman was a
tempting fantasy, but Fiona would never act on such a dark impulse.

He would be even more furious if she defied him and bore his
child. Better that she seek another man, and Julian was in her guest room. If
she had an affair with his son, she could carry Noel’s child and no one would
ever be the wiser, no matter how much the babe resembled an Ahlquist.

Damn her poor timing. Two weeks ago, she might have had
Julian with a mere crook of her finger. Now he was betrothed to Cathryn Sibley,
and she had urged him into the alliance. Poorly, poorly played.

She replaced the herbs in the back of her dressing table
drawer and smoothed the crease between her eyes. No herbs this month. She
prayed her courses would not arrive.

With a sigh of resignation, Fiona rose and donned her
sapphire dressing gown. She had promised her maid she would return to watch
Julian overnight. She picked up her book from the side table by her bed,
Love
in Pompeii
, by her dearest friend in the world, Melina Burns. She’d read it
before, but it never failed to hold her interest. A keeper.

Wondering what Melina would advise her to do with a nearly
naked Julian convalescing under her roof, she chuckled. Melina was the only
woman she knew with appetites that rivaled her own, and the writer had a unique
set of ethics. Both of them had done things in the heat of the moment they
later wished they had considered more carefully. It wouldn’t be the first time
Fiona climbed into bed with an invalid, and the last time it landed her a
marquis.

She entered Julian’s room and her maid met her at the door. “The
footman just attended him.”

She felt a pang of disappointment at not being allowed to
nurse Julian as she set her book down. “Very well, you may leave us.”

A strand of Julian’s hair was tangled around his face, and
she went to the bedside and tucked it behind his right ear. He looked like a
dark angel fallen from the sky, and her heart tugged with longing for him.
Likely the doctor was correct and there were no internal injuries. The greatest
danger in the next days was not in moving him, it was infection from the wound.
Some men kept their blades dirty to ensure such a fate, and she prayed that was
not the case today.

It seemed highly unlikely Julian’s spine was injured, and he
might leave tomorrow. She reluctantly retreated from his side.

The night promised to be a long one, and she need not act in
haste.

Lady Sibley’s image came to mind as she picked up her book.
The woman was lovely, and Julian deserved someone as fine as she appeared to
be. Her visit today had been brief. Fiona hadn’t encouraged her to stay, but
her deep affection for the earl was evident. Sibley seemed unaware of Fiona’s
warm regard for Julian. Her effusive thanks for allowing him to stay while he
recovered held only the normal tinge of protectiveness.

Fiona would wager all her savings that the baroness would
give up her title to be the one sitting by his bedside this night.

Cathryn sat in the window seat of her parlor wrapped in her
new cloak and stared in the direction of Mrs. Aubrey’s residence, desperately
wishing herself in the other woman’s place. She’d stopped at her church to pray
and light candles for Julian before returning home to keep her distant vigil.
He would be well, she felt it.

Violet sat near the fire with an unread book in her lap,
always a good listener and a particularly great comfort this dreadful eve.

“Julian was fast asleep when I saw him, and Mrs. Aubrey
assured me he would be attended all through the night.” Cathryn fought back a
rising panic at the thought of Fiona and Julian alone. “What could I do? It
seemed awkward to sit watch in a stranger’s home, so I left him in her care. I
assume his father is there by now—his mother is in York. I don’t imagine she’ll
make the journey.” These people would become her new family, and she knew next
to nothing about them.

Violet nodded reassuringly. “Well, Julian is strong, and the
wounds weren’t life-threatening. We’ll continue to pray there’s no infection.”

“I wish I was with him.” Cathryn’s imagination had run
rampant for the past two hours, picturing the indescribably lovely Mrs. Aubrey
tending to the drugged earl with personal attention to every intimate detail.
Her face flushed anew at the thought of the woman seeing Julian undressed.
Cathryn should be the only one with that privilege now that he had asked her to
marry him, and they had consummated their arrangement in such grand style.

She snuggled into the rich lining of the cloak as she
considered all she knew of Fiona Aubrey, and the facts didn’t appease her
jealous concerns a wit. “I know her work at the poorhouse is exemplary, and no
one dare speak ill of her, but Mrs. Aubrey is a new breed of woman, and I’m not
certain I approve.”

“If what Rune told us is true, she and the marquis have had
a falling out.” Violet set aside her book and rose to join Cathryn at the
window. “Do you think she wants Julian?”

“She hovered over him today in a disconcertingly protective
fashion, as if she has rights to him no one else shares.” Cathryn stared into
the night. “Perhaps she does.”

“He’s proposed to you, Cat, and his eyes light up in your
presence.”

The fur collar of her new cloak held a faint scent of
ylang-ylang and sandalwood. Julian wore a touch of pomade to tame his unruly
mane. He wore no other scent, but his masculine essence clung to what had been
their blanket for nearly three hours.

Her fears burst from her. “Her strange childhood may have
formed a ruthless woman. We already know she’s not afraid to cause a scandal to
get what she wants. I could lose him this night.”

“No, Cat, no.” Violet grasped Cathryn’s hand. “He’s asked
you to be his wife, and he’s a man of honor.”

Cathryn heaved a sigh of resignation. “If she returns him to
me safe and well, I’ll forgive her manner.” She tried to lighten the mood. “Ideally,
we will become friends, as Julian is clearly attached to her.”

“You have mentioned wanting to learn to use a dagger for
protection in the city. Perhaps she can instruct you.”

That was a novel thought. “I did feel like a ragdoll when
Percival shook me.” Cathryn shuddered at the memory. “Well, I’ll be at Julian’s
bedside at nine, and stay for the entire day if Aubrey doesn’t run me off.
Perhaps I’ll approach her about some private instruction while he’s asleep.”

“Just be careful she doesn’t
accidentally
injure you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Both women laughed, and Cathryn wondered if there were any
truth to the accusation. Not being with Julian at this moment, knowing he was
at the mercy of the unpredictable woman, was the most difficult thing Cathryn
had ever done. It promised to be an excruciatingly long night.

Julian woke groggily, with a parched throat and a persistent
ache in his side. Cool air on his chest caused him to lift his heavy lids, and
he saw Fiona leaning over his bandage. Her blonde hair fell in a curtain around
her face, and she tossed it back over her dark shoulders as she reached for the
tie on the gauze wrap.

“I always…pictured you in white,” he said, surprised at the
effort it took, but pleased at his quip.

She turned to face him, and his breath caught at her pale
beauty. Would he never become inured to her? Without a word, she slipped the
navy robe off her shoulders and placed it near his hand, while she remained in
her thin white night rail.

He
murred
his approval. “Water.”

She poured half a glassful and held it to his lips. “How are
you feeling?”

He sipped and smiled weakly at her. “Like I lost the battle.”

“Well, you did, but you will prevail.” He finished the
refreshing drink and smiled.

She offered more water and poured it while he stared at her.
“I’m glad you haven’t lost confidence in me.”

Her face softened as she met his eyes. “You’re my favorite
person in the world, Julian. It will take a great deal to dislodge you from
that position.”

He stopped breathing altogether. This must be a dream.

She reached out and gently brushed the hair from his face.
He shuddered at the intimate contact and his breathing resumed with a sharp
inhale, accompanied by a grip of pain in his side.

“You knew that, of course.” She turned to replace the glass
and he stared at the outline of her thin body visible through the gown.

“You’ve never said that before.” He continued to gaze at his
ethereal nurse as she picked up a gauze pad and applied an ointment to the
surface.

“I did once. Perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

He searched his muzzy memory, but no such incident surfaced.
“I thought I remembered everything about you.”

“The night you returned from Eton.”

Her eyes sought his, which he reluctantly ripped from the
curve of her small breasts. “That night is one I’ve tried to forget.” It was
true, he rarely thought of her painful disclosure that she had taken up with
his father.

“I’m sorry, Julian.” She set down the pad and sat down
gingerly on the bed beside him. Her floral perfume flooded his senses. “Hurting
you has been my only regret.”

Twenty years he’d longed for Fiona, and she was here, in his
bed. Tomorrow might bring a deadly infection, and he’d have missed his only
chance.

“Are you and Father truly done?” He opened his eyes to see
her leaning towards him.

“He’s gone to York for the winter.”

Noel had barely been home in a decade and then only for
house parties.

Her lips nearly brushed his and he smelled brandy on her
breath. She reached down and her hand was perched to lower the covers, when he
summoned all his strength and gritted his teeth. “No.”

His cock seemed not to have heard the message, because it
moved the covers close to her hand.

“No,” he said louder and she met his gaze. “Cathryn.”

Fiona deflected his objection. “You want me.”

“I did.” It came out before he could stop it, and it was the
truth, but his honor was screaming at him to resist. He clutched her robe in
his hand to deflect her.

She reached out for him and he shifted away. The pain in his
side gripped him. He nearly doubled over from the discomfort and his face was
only inches from hers when he finished groaning. He again smelled liquor on her
breath and it shook him.

“Cathryn.”

A confused look crossed her perfect features. “You barely
know her.”

He fell back on the pillow. “I’ve proposed.”

“She’s contracted to Hedges.”

That set him back a notch. A knock at the door rescued him
from further temptation.

She grabbed her robe from the bed and put it on as she
hurried to answer it. A male voice, too low for him to hear, spoke for some
time before Fiona answered. “Send her up.”

He recovered some of his composure by the time she returned
to his bedside.

“It seems your new lady has keen intuition.”

“Cathryn’s here?”

“Yes, she came disguised as a man.”She picked up her robe
and was tying the belt as a knock on the door announced Cathryn’s arrival.

He shifted again and the movement cramped his side. He was
wincing in pain when Cathryn entered the room.

“Oh, darling,” she said as she rushed to the bed.

“I’m all right, Cathryn.” He scanned her man’s garb; white
shirt, tan waistcoat, black evening coat, all slightly oversized on her lovely
frame. The better to hide her ample charms. He assumed she’d worn a hat, but
now her hair hung about her shoulders like a glorious veil.

“Is the pain unbearable? I’d thought you’d be sleeping.” She
glanced around the room and took in Fiona’s flushed composure. “Did I interrupt
something?”

“Master Aubrey was about to change my dressings.” He glanced
at the night table and Cathryn’s gaze followed.

“I know how to do that. I only need wash up and change my
clothes.” She waved a hand towards a bag she had left at the door. She faced
Fiona, and his heart lurched. “I felt terrible leaving him in your care, when
you have a busy studio to attend to and I have…very little. I know it’s nearly
midnight, but I had to come.”

His breath caught at the two women struggling for dominance.

Fiona straightened slightly. “I’m glad you’ve come. I do
have classes in the morning.” She glanced around and saw her book open on the
chair she had occupied. An empty glass and half a decanter of brandy seemed to
signal a glaring lapse of duty. She looked at Julian and a brittle smile
threatened to betray her. “You’re all he’s spoken of since he’s been here.”

Cathryn took in the rest of the scene, and she put her hand
over his on the bed. “Perhaps I heard him calling me. I felt strongly I should
come.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m very glad you’re here.”

“There’s a washbasin behind the screen.” Fiona gestured to
the corner.

“Yes, of course.” Cathryn started to let go of his hand, but
then she turned and leaned over him, her long hair cascading around his
shoulders and neck. “Just one moment.”

She claimed him with a bold kiss, skirting his lips with her
tongue, and inhaling deeply as she captured his eyes. “I’m glad you called for
me.” Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder.

He nodded, speechless at the powerful effect she had on him.
A sense of well-being descended on him, disrupted only slightly by a twinge of
guilt as his cock stirred at her touch on his bare skin.

“I’ll just wash up and change your bandage.” She
straightened and faced Fiona. “Thank you so much for all your kindness. I
believe I can attend to all his needs alone.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can.” Fiona headed for the door. “There’s
a man in the hall should you need anything.”

“Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be fine until morning.”

Fiona hesitated. “He could take another dose of the medicine
any time now. It’s best to stay ahead of pain.”

She glanced at the bottle and nodded. “Thank you. I know how
to administer laudanum.”

“I leave you in good hands, Julian.” The door clicked behind
her.

He realized he’d been holding his breath watching them spar.

Cathryn lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his fingertips.
“I hope you’re not upset that I’ve come.” She inhaled deeply and a strange look
came over her. She dropped his hand and turned away.

Something was wrong.

“I’m very glad you’ve come, love. I already told you that,
and I am a man of my word.” He lifted his hand to his nose and Fiona’s floral
scent clung to his fingertips. Cathryn must have noticed. He felt a fool
speaking of his honor.