The Duke's Lady (Historical Romance - The Ladies Series) (3 page)

Annie smiled as he strolled into the room. “Good evenin’, Your Grace. Have ye had yer dinner?”

“No, Annie, I’m going to bathe and change clothes first. I just stopped to see how our guest is faring.” Adam’s gaze drifted to the sleeping girl who appeared so small and helpless lying in the large bed. Her labored breathing echoed in the room as if she fought for each breath, and her coloring was still not good. Adam couldn’t seem to control the sudden tightness in his chest. “How is she?”

“There’s no change.” Annie shook her head. “I’ve managed to get a wee bit o’ chicken broth down her and o’ course the medicine. But I do fear her fever will shoot up tonight. It usually does.”

Adam noticed the fatigue lines around Annie’s eyes. Her brown hair streaked with gray always reminded him of how precious the little woman was to him. He never doubted that he and his sister, Elizabeth, had caused a few of the gray streaks when they had been small. If the truth were known, he’d probably caused several more over the last year. “After I eat dinner, I’ll relieve you for the night,” he said.

“Dinna be botherin’ yerself!” she protested. “I can take care o’ the lass myself. Besides, she’ll be needin’ her medicine.”

“I assure you, I’m quite capable of administering a spoonful of syrup.”

“But sir!”

“No arguments! I’ll be back after dinner,” he said firmly as he shut the door.

Precisely at eight o’clock, Adam returned as promised. Annie explained the exact dosage of laudanum that the patient was to receive, then lectured him about keeping cool compresses on her forehead. Turning to leave, she added, “Take good care o’ Jewel and call should ye be needin’ me.”

“Jewel?” Adam turned to Annie. “Why did you call her by that name?”

“Oh, beggin’ yer pardon, Your Grace. I be forgettin’ to tell ye.” Annie fumbled in her pocket. “I be havin’ it here somewhere,” she muttered.

It had been a long day, and Annie’s vagueness wore Adam’s temper thin. “What are you talking about?”

“ ’Twas just this very momin’ when I undressed the wee lass—I dinna ken what it is.” She finally pulled a piece of folded paper from her pocket. “What do ye make o’ it?”

Carefully, so as not to cause further damage, Adam unfolded the faded brown parchment. He scanned the paper, taking in the very detailed drawings. The French words had faded in places, but Adam could make out the words for “Bay of”—unfortunately the other word was not legible. The paper had been to
rn exactly in half, and one was no good without the other. Studying the map, he thought something looked vaguely familiar, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “I don’t see any reference to a name, Annie.”

“Look on the back, sir.”

Adam turned the map over and saw the inscription. In French it read: “
TO MY BELOVED JEWEL, MAY THE TREASURES OF THE
WORLD BE YOURS.”
The name scrawled on the bottom was
JEAN.

“What do ye make o’ the parchment?” Annie asked.

Adam read it again. So her name was Jewel. But Jewel what? And who was Jean and what right did he have to refer to her as his beloved? Adam scowled, not liking any of the possibilities that ran through his mind. Could she be nothing more than a common doxy? No. He refused to believe the worst just yet. Perhaps Jean was her brother or maybe her father, Adam reasoned. Somehow that thought sat better with him.

Why in the world would she have a map? Evidently it was valuable, and possibly the reason she’d been beaten. He tucked the folded paper into his pocket for safekeeping. All but forgotten, Annie stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot and awaiting a reply.

Adam turned his attention back to her. “I beg your pardon?”

“I do say, mon, where has yer mind been? I’ve been talkin’ for the last few minutes. Come to think o’ it, ye’ve not acted like yerself since ye found the lass.”

Adam, not wanting to comment on his thoughts, gruffly swore. “Annie, damn it, what did you say?”

“I asked, what ye be thinkin’ about the drawin’?” Annie replied in a rather offended tone.

“It’s possibly a treasure map; however, this half is no good without the other.” His gaze strayed to the bed, wondering if the girl was as innocent as she looked. “She could have stolen it. Remember, we don’t know anything about her. I guess we’ll have to wait for all our answers until she’s recovered.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He really didn’t need a discussion just now. “Good night,” he said, dismissing Annie.

After she left, Adam once again turned his gaze upon Jewel’s small and delicate features. Short black hair framed her oval face, and soot-black eyelashes rested on her flushed cheeks. Reaching over, Adam felt her forehead. It still burned with fever.

He moved to the washstand, where he poured fresh water into a porcelain bowl, then carried the bowl back to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed, closely watching the rise and fall of her chest. Balancing the bowl on his legs, he tenderly brushed the hair back from her face. He dipped a cloth and squeezed out the excess water, then placed the damp compress on her forehead. When the cloth grew warm he followed the procedure again, but this time he wiped down Jewel’s arms and bare chest, trying everything to bring her body heat down. How strange it felt to take care of someone again. Adam remembered taking care of Elizabeth when they were younger. Even though they were twins, he had always seemed years older. But she hadn’t been as cooperative as this patient. She’d usually fussed about staying in bed. Of course, Elizabeth had never been as sick as the lady before him.

Again he applied the soothing water, and held the moist rag to her parched lips to relieve the dryness.

The hours passed slowly. After a while, Adam stood and rolled his head on his shoulders to alleviate the tension and pain in his neck. Picking up the basin, he moved back to the washstand. That was when he heard a moan so soft he thought perhaps he’d only imagined it. He jerked around.

Easing down onto the bed, he took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her soft palm. “I’m here, Jewel. Just rest and get well,” he whispered.

Compassion stirred deep in his soul. But compassion was all he could ever feel for this mysterious woman who had drifted into his life, he told himself, despite the strong attraction that swept his body.

Suddenly, Jewel’s eyelids flew open. She reached up and grabbed Adam’s shirt. She stared directly at him. “P—Please don’t let me die.” The soft plea slipped from quivering lips. Adam grabbed her arms so she wouldn’t fall. Slowly, he lowered her back to the bed, then leaned closer so he could hear her softly spoken words. She had a very slight French accent, but not a normal accent—it was somehow different.

“I—I’m so cold. C-can’t get warm.” Her head thrashed from side to side. “Don’t let them hurt me. Don’t leave me— please,” she begged, grasping his hand.

The words, though choppy and brief, affected Adam deeply. He became lost in the brown velvet softness of her feverish eyes, and found he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly, thinking how small she looked in the midst of the pillows that surrounded her.

Before he could move or say anything, Jewel’s eyes closed and once again she slipped back into the deep sleep she’d been in before. She still clutched his hand. Her lips quivered from fever-induced chills.

Adam loosened her fingers from his hand, then quickly retrieved two quilts from the chair, tucking them around her. He waited. The quilts didn’t help. Nothing seemed to help. Her shivering increased. Swiftly, he removed his boots and shirt, and thought for one brief second about removing his breeches, but decided against it. He wanted to keep thinking of this young lady as a child that needed protection—nothing more. Otherwise, it would be far too easy for one thing to lead to another. He also didn’t want Annie to have an attack of the vapors when she found him in bed with Jewel the next morning.

He slid under the covers, pulling the blankets over them, being careful of Jewel’s raw back as he placed her next to his long frame. Her skin felt dry and hot to the touch.

Gliding one arm under her head, he draped the other over her waist, the radiating heat from Jewel’s body quickly engulfing them both in sweat Still, he held her close, offering her his body’s warmth and comfort. Somehow he had to stop her chills. It seemed like hours before he felt her relax and the trembling ceased.

Exhaustion finally claimed Adam, and he relaxed. Not since he’d been a boy had he experienced such a peaceful contentment. Again he remembered his mother’s death, but this time the outcome would be different, he vowed. The woman cradled in his arms would live because he’d saved her life.

Jewel turned over and faced him, snuggling her head on his shoulder. A strange protective sensation washed over Adam. He wondered just what he was getting himself into.

If he wasn’t careful he could have deep emotions for this slip of a girl. But that was impossible; he knew nothing about her. He rubbed his calloused hand over her soft arm. The skin felt cool and damp. The fever had broken. And Annie had thought him incapable of caring for Jewel. “I guess I’ve shown her,” he murmured before drifting off into a long- awaited sleep. Tomorrow, he had a long ride into London.

The early morning sunlight filtered in through the white batiste curtains, bathing the room in soft yellow. Adam opened his eyes to find Jewel snuggled next to him, her arm draped across the black hair of his chest. Careful not to disturb her, he slipped out of bed and retrieved his shirt from the chair.

He heard her soft mumbling, and walked over to the bed. “What did you say?” he asked.

“Hold me,” she said sleepily.

Adam chuckled. “I’d like to, luv, but I’ve other pressing matters this morning.” He realized she didn’t know what she was saying, but he hoped she would awaken today so they could really talk. Perhaps then he could extract her from his mind.

She slept like an angel. But what if she wasn’t one? His brow wrinkled with the unpleasant thought as he buttoned his shirt.

God, he needed some answers!

Images filled her dark world.

First, a flash of blue—beautiful, tranquil—then flashes of white as two ships bobbed like tiny corks in the middle of a stormy sapphire sea. Billowing canvas sails flapped in the wind, catching her attention just before someone yelled, “Come about!”

Suddenly, a loud explosion jarred her, followed by shouts of panic from all directions. The sails came tumbling down, and she saw blood . . . lots of blood.

Jewel tossed and turned in her fever-induced sleep, trying to cry for help, but the sound wouldn’t come.

Somewhere a man screamed in agony. Blood oozed between his fingers as he turned and glared at her. She gasped at the sight. His cheek had been ripped open from his mouth to his ear.

The grotesque face was too close for comfort as he reached out and grabbed her wrist, sending the small, bloody knife she held skittering across the deck. Jewel tried to swing out, but someone held her arms. She couldn’t move.

She couldn’t breathe.

She was going to die.

When she looked again, her attacker had disappeared, and Jewel slipped back into the timeless void she’d been in before.

Peaceful sleep ... no pain. Such a blissful state. She wanted to stay here forever.

She felt something cool on her forehead, and her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself staring into the Devil’s black eyes. Her bottom lip quivered as she pleaded, “Please, don’t hurt me.”

The words had barely been uttered before she drifted back into a foggy state of sleep. She felt the comfort and warmth of the Devil, and vaguely heard his softly spoken words, which left her with a feeling of contentment.

Strong arms cradled her close, yet she sensed those same arms were capable of crushing the very life from her body. But for now they offered her comfort.

Jewel rose from the depths of her sleep and blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the light.

She lay upon her stomach encompassed in fluffy, white comforters strewn across her. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to crawl out of her warm cocoon, but she sensed that she must. Raising her head, she recoiled at the soreness that seemed to cover every inch of her body. “Oh!” The moan escaped her.

Pushing herself up onto her knees, despite protesting muscles, she managed to stay in a crouched position until the blackness that threatened to once again engulf her faded away. She must have been very sick to feel so awful, she thought as she slowly turned and sat up so she could take in her surroundings.

Pale yellow walls trimmed in white gave a bright and cheerful appearance to the room ... to this
unfamiliar
room. She sat upon a four-poster bed made feminine by a yellow and white canopy. Rubbing her hand across the smooth comforter, she had the strongest feeling that she didn’t belong there.

The lacy curtains fluttering by the open window caught her attention. Where? . . . How? . . . What? Frustration seized her.

Where was she? Nothing looked familiar. Nothing! She was dead. She just knew it.