The Confessions of a Duchess (19 page)

With a happy little murmur she closed her eyes and gave herself up to her dreams.

WHEN LAURA AWOKE the lantern had burned out and it was dark. Her head ached, her mouth felt dry and she was thirsty. She felt cold and stiff and she needed to go to the privy.

She thought there might be more unromantic situations to be in but offhand she could not think of any of them.

She felt wretched.

Her traitorous body was awakened and the quickened desire stabbed through her as she remembered everything that had happened—the sensation of Dexter’s hands and lips on her body, the touch and the taste of him. But in the same instant her mind shrank from remembering the liberties that she had allowed him to take. She had taken too much champagne. She had lost all her self-restraint. Once again she had responded brazenly to Dexter. He knew now just how easily he could command her senses and he would think her response to him proved she was shameless.

Laura felt the chill creep more deeply through her, distancing her from Dexter even as her body still hummed with the intimacy of their physical awareness. The blissful pleasure she had experienced was draining away now, along with her feelings of happiness.

She could recall
begging
Dexter to make love to her. She had missed his touch for four long years and it had been heavenly to be in his arms again. It had banished all that cold loneliness that seemed to stalk her. But now she was sober she felt hot with mortification rather than pleasure. Tonight she had reached out to the Dexter Anstruther she thought she had once known, before so much had come between them. She had forgotten all the secrets she was holding and the lies that kept them apart. She had sought the complicated, passionate man who had once cared for her and she had thought that she had found him again. But now she realized that it had been an illusion.

“I don’t know myself when I am with you, Laura….”

She remembered now. This Dexter Anstruther was a man determined to be conventional, a fortune hunter wanting a rich bride, in denial of the wild and passionate side of his nature. This was not the man Laura sought, nor the one she needed.

Dexter was asleep. Laura could not see him in the darkness but she could hear the steadiness of his breathing. He was still holding her in his arms but his grip had loosened now and his body no longer warmed her. Only a few hours before he had held her and made love to her with such tenderness and passion as though he truly cared for her. It had felt then that
that
was the real Dexter Anstruther, a man who wanted her for the person she was—not the pattern card duchess her mother had created, nor the dutiful chatelaine of Cole, nor even the wanton whore who had sent him packing after one night of passion. She had thought that when they had made love it had been with honesty and no pretense. But drink had a way of making you think things like that when they simply were not true.

Feeling chilled and disoriented by the champagne, the darkness and her sudden misery, Laura freed herself gently from Dexter’s clasp and edged her way along the wall toward the privy.

As soon as she came back into the wine cellar a blast of cold air struck her and set her shivering. The wind was whistling along the outer corridor. Laura was surprised that it had not woken her sooner. Wide-awake now, she groped her way into the corridor that led to the entrance.

The door at the end of the cellar was standing wide open and in the faint light she could see the darker shadows of the priory ruins against the sky and the stars bright and white above them.

For a moment she could not believe it. The cellar door was open. They had not been trapped at all.

“Laura?”

She had not heard Dexter’s step behind her but now she swung around to find him standing at her shoulder.

“The door is open! We were not locked in at all!” Try as she might, Laura could not prevent the flat accusation in her voice. He had been the one to check if the door was shut.

He must have made a mistake.

“That’s impossible.” She could not see Dexter’s face but there was utter disbelief in his voice. “The door was firmly shut.”

“And you can see that it is now wide open!” Laura felt a mixture of anger and indignation. If only she had checked. The events of the last few hours would never have happened. Dexter would not have made love to her in the intimate confines of the cellar.

She would not have slept in his arms and felt happy for such a short time before she realized that this happiness was based on nothing but lust and mistrust and could not be hers for so many reasons.

“I am going home,” she said.

“Laura, wait!” Suddenly there was an insistent note in Dexter’s voice. He put his hand on her arm to detain her, but she shook him off and hurried out the door. Dexter’s voice checked her; she heard his urgent step behind her.

“Laura, no—” In the same instant she heard the scrape of stone against stone and the small tumble of pebbles that presaged a rock fall. The moon came out. Laura turned.

Something was falling toward her hard and fast and in the last moment she understood and threw herself to one side. Dexter caught her and pulled her to the ground, the weight of his body knocking all the air from hers, and then something caught her shoulder and the pain shot through her like a red-hot knife and she hit her head and everything went dark.

LAURA DID NOT KNOW
how long she was unconscious for but it was not long, and when she came round she wished fervently that she had been knocked out cold for good. Her whole body seemed lit from within with a burning pain. It was so bad that for a moment she could not think, could not speak. She could see light behind her closed eyelids and for a second she thought it was day, but then she remembered what had happened and realized that it was candlelight. Dexter must have carried her home.

Voices echoed through her head and she could feel hands moving over her with infinite gentleness. Each touch brought a fresh wave of agony and made the cold sweat stand out on her forehead. She heard Dexter’s voice. “She has broken no bones but the rock fall has put her shoulder out….”

She could see shadow figures moving through the haze of pain. Someone touched her forehead with a cool cloth and Laura made a huge effort and opened her eyes. She was lying against the cushions on the sofa in her drawing room. Dexter’s face swam close to her, set in grim lines, his blue eyes so dark and intense she thought hazily that he must be angry with her and she tried to put a hand out to him.

“I’m sorry—” she began.

“Don’t try to speak.” He sounded frightfully fierce. “Don’t try to move.” Laura made another effort. “Carrington…Please don’t let him worry…. He takes things so badly these days.”

She saw Dexter’s face ease into a smile for a moment and there was something in his eyes—some shimmer of tenderness—that for some reason made her want to cry. He touched her cheek with gentle fingers.

“Do not concern yourself. He and Mrs. Carrington were very distressed when I brought you home but I have dispatched them back to bed. Molly has sent Bart to fetch Dr.

Barlow. He will be here soon.”

“My shoulder—” Laura gasped as she tried to move and a fresh wave of pain broke over her, making her shudder. “What has happened?”

“Try to keep still.” Dexter’s voice was very calm, at odds with the tension in his eyes. “A piece of masonry fell from the priory tower and hit you. It has put your shoulder out.”

“It hurts…like the very devil.” She had seen accidents like this before on the hunting field after a fall from a horse, but she had had no idea that putting a shoulder out of joint could be so utterly agonizing. Her thoughts were a jumbled whirl—she knew there were things that she should be thinking about, but even the effort of trying to piece anything together seemed too much. Dexter was there and she felt safe. She closed her eyes and let everything wash over her until the sound of the door opening and Molly’s hasty steps dragged her reluctantly out of the darkness again.

“Dr. Barlow’s wife says that he is out attending a confinement and may be an hour or more, sir.” Molly’s voice had an edge of fear to it. “Oh sir—her grace! What are we to do?” Laura heard Dexter swear. She opened her eyes. She knew the answer to that particular question.

“You will have to put it back for me, Dexter,” she whispered. “I cannot stand this pain and cannot lie here awaiting Dr. Barlow for an hour or more.” Dexter took her hand in his. His gaze was agonized. “Laura, I cannot….” His voice was husky.

“You must have done such a thing before,” Laura argued. All she knew was that if she lay there much longer her shoulder would seize up completely and the agony would be intolerable. “Please,” she whispered. “I know that it is a great deal to ask of you but I am sure you could do it.”

She saw the conflict in Dexter’s face. “I could,” he said reluctantly. “I have done it before. But…” His eyes lifted to hers and he looked anguished. “I would need to hurt you so much, Laura. I am not sure I can do that.”

Laura tried to smile but it came out as a grimace. “Just think how much you dislike me, Dexter. That should make it easier.”

His jaws clamped together hard and a muscle tightened in his cheek. “Do not jest about this, Laura,” he said harshly. “Not now.”

“Very well then,” Laura said. “Dexter, I am begging you. Do you think I am not in pain now? Whatever you do could not possibly be worse.” She turned her head slightly.

“But pray send Molly away—I think she might faint.”

“Oh, madam…” Molly said, starting to cry.

Dexter took her arm. “Go and heat some water, Molly, and prepare her grace’s bed. I will carry her up in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes!” Laura said. “I doubt I shall last ten seconds.” But she felt a relief mingled with the agony. The decision was made. Dexter was not going to fail her.

He brought a glass of brandy across to her and raised it to her lips. “Drink it, Laura.” His tone was still harsh, his expression like granite. “You are going to need it.” After that, Laura found that everything became very blurred. Dexter put his hand under her elbow and straightened her arm out. It seemed to take forever. The pain flowered through her whole body and she gripped the arm of the sofa so tightly with her free hand that she ripped the material. Dexter did not look at her; his whole concentration was focused on the job at hand. She thought hazily that perhaps if he saw her face he would be undone, for his body was so taut and tense it felt almost explosive. At one point Laura could not hold back a gasp of pain and she felt Dexter check and look at her. There were deep lines around his eyes and the set of his mouth was hard.

“Go on.” Laura forced a whisper. “If you stop now I will never forgive you.” She thought a flicker of a smile touched his lips and then he pulled her elbow across her chest and folded her wrist back toward her right shoulder. There was a horrible crunch but even as Laura steeled herself against it, the pain disappeared and she almost fainted with the relief.

She opened her mouth to thank him but he poured some more brandy down her throat.

“I will carry you up to your bedroom now,” he murmured. He gathered her into his arms and she realized that he was shaking. She felt shocked; she knew she had asked a great deal of him but the thought of what it must have cost him disturbed her profoundly.

He held her as delicately as though she were made of spun glass and a wave of almost unbearable emotion swept through her then at the thought of what he had been prepared to do for her. She wanted to cry.

“Almost there,” he whispered against her hair. “Hold on.” Laura nodded. Her head felt incredibly heavy against Dexter’s shoulder. The brandy was fiery in her blood and she was becoming so faint that she could barely stay awake.

“Thank you,” she whispered. His face was so close and suddenly she felt so much love for him that it swamped her. It was all-consuming, irresistible. She raised her undamaged hand to touch his cheek.

“I had to make you leave,” she said. Suddenly it seemed imperative to make him understand what had really happened when she had sent him away four years before. She could not bear his poor opinion when she loved him so much. The urgency of her feelings wracked her and she struggled a little.

“You have to let me explain—” she started to say.

“Hush.” Dexter’s lips brushed her hair again. “You don’t need to talk now. I understand.”

Laura did not think that he did and she strained a little against the waves of darkness that were swamping her mind. “I need to explain,” she said again, a little forlornly. She could not form the words to tell him. It felt hopeless. She felt despairing.

But his arms had tightened about her and in that there was comfort. She stopped fighting against the dark and let the warmth and reassurance from Dexter’s body wrap about her, and after that she remembered nothing for a very long time.

DEXTER SAT beside Laura’s bed trying to read an old copy of
Tristram Shandy
that he had found lying on the window seat. He was not sure why he was trying to read at all, for he had no concentration and precious little light to see by. The candles were burning down very low now and in an hour or so the first traces of dawn would start to lighten the eastern sky. He felt very tired, not so much from being awake for the best part of the night but as a result of the complex, unfamiliar emotions of the past few hours.

He got up slowly and walked over to the ewer on the dresser, splashing some water into the bowl and welcoming the cold shock of its touch on his face. His eyes felt gritty. In the bed, Laura turned over in her sleep and made a soft noise of distress as the movement jarred her shoulder. She did not wake but the sound seemed to skewer Dexter with helpless and protective concern. He rubbed his face fiercely with the towel as though to banish the feeling. If he had felt a stubborn and inexplicable urge to look after her before it was as nothing compared to the violent emotion he felt now.

He was unable to prevent the shudder that went through him as he recalled the moment he had seen the stone from the ruined tower start to tumble toward Laura. When she had fallen and lain so still he had thought for a moment that his heart had stopped. The fear within him had been like a living thing, stifling the breath from him.