The Viscount's Addiction (12 page)

“Saw the lass leave with her horse early this morning.” William stabbed a sausage with his fork and raised it up. “Have some breakfast, my lord. It will give you strength.”

The sight of the greasy meat made Ryder want to retch. “Believe me, nothing would stay down if I did eat.”

William shrugged and plowed the meat into his mouth.

“But, don’t let me stop you, William,” Ryder said. In Newgate, William was the one person on whom he could always count. The only man who wouldn’t smother you in your sleep for a pint of gin or a snuff of tobacco. His humor never failed. Even after Vickers had beaten him bloody just for the pleasure of it, William had molded his own nose back into something resembling a human feature and jested about how it could only add to his appeal with women.

“I’m going to spend some time patching those cracks in the roof,” William said. “Otherwise, once the winter storms come, the whole place will be leaking rain water.”

With care, as though his fragile head might rattle, Ryder nodded his agreement to that assessment. It felt as though his skull had a few fissures of its own. “I think heavy labor is what I need today, too. I’ve been meaning to take down the crumbling stone wall around the garden.” It was a mindless job but he hoped to work himself to exhaustion. Anything to take away the extreme restlessness that increased with each passing moment.

A wheelbarrow, a shovel and a sledgehammer were all Ryder needed to complete the task he’d assigned himself. Although his sweetly provocative wife keeping him company would have been a bonus. Apparently the horse still held more sway than her husband at the moment. For the hundredth time he looked toward the barn. Where the hell was she?

With all his strength, Ryder swung the heavy hammer toward the wall. It cracked loudly, sending a jolt of pain through his head. The taut muscles in his arms vibrated and strained against the impact. He traveled the length of the ancient wall, taking some small satisfaction from demolishing it. Sweat soaked his shirt as though he’d been swimming in a lake. He felt as though he was moving in slow motion and yet, before he’d realized how long he had worked, the wall was down and only a massive pile of broken stones remained.

For the third time William peeked over the edge of the roof to check on him. Ryder glared at him. “Why don’t you mind you own business, old man?”

“I was just making sure you weren’t taking that hammer to the walls of the house.

I’m up ’ere on the roof after all.” William scooted back from the edge and out of view.

Ryder tossed stone after stone into the wheelbarrow. His mind was exhausted but his body, wracked with tremors, would not let him rest. He needed opium badly and did not know how long he could hold out. The only thing keeping him from running to his bottles was Jessie. The sensual night they’d spent together under the stars was the only flicker of light still playing in his black thoughts. He could not let her think he was too weak to get through this. And yet where was she? Maybe he was counting too much on her being there for him. The longer she was gone, the harder it was getting for him. The pain from head to toe made him feel as if all his nerves were exposed. What a fool he was, torturing himself like this because of some fanciful notion that the little chit cared an ounce for him.

Then he saw her. Her black horse lumbered into view. He gritted his teeth and cursed the slowness of the horse’s gait. Ryder threw down the stone, very nearly hitting his own foot, and headed toward her. That’s when he noticed two other riders. One of the men wore a red military jacket. His hands tightened into fists and the blood ran icy in his veins. His sweat-soaked skin chilled, causing a shiver to race through his body. Jessie turned her head and smiled at the man in the military regalia in a way that drove Ryder absolutely mad. Without another thought he strode toward the gatehouse where he’d stashed his opium to keep it out of his sight. Never had he experienced such an unbelievable sensation of jealousy. What had he done? How had he allowed himself to become completely smitten with this girl?



Lord Blackwood stormed up the path toward the stables. With unease, Jessie glanced at her two escorts. They had both grown considerably paler.

“Thank you for seeing me home. Please give my best to your mother.” She needn’t have been so obvious about trying to get rid of them. The two men looked more than eager to take their leave.

Joseph reined his horse around then stopped. His shoulders tensed, his chin turned and his eyes shifted in the direction of the house. But either manners or fear prevented him from turning his head to watch the viscount approach. “Do let us know if you need anything. Do not forget the shortcut through Mr. Glidden’s pasture.”

She attempted a reassuring smile. “I thank you for your offer.”

As they cantered back toward the road, Jessie took a peek down the hill. Lord Blackwood, clearly in a thunderous mood, was no longer bearing down on the stables. Where the path forked, he’d turned in an ominous direction. He was heading straight to the gatehouse. Surely nothing good would come of that. With haste she removed Titus’s tack and led him back into his stall. Once out of the barn, she lifted the hem of her riding skirt and raced down the path.

The heavy door of the gatehouse stuck, and she winced as she threw her weight against it. It budged open and, barely able to catch her breath, she pushed inside. Lord Blackwood was bent over plucking something from the pothook inside the unlit hearth. His white shirt clung to his back with sweat and dirt covered his breeches. As he straightened, Jessie spotted the small burlap bag in his hand.

“You don’t need that!” Her voice echoed off the bare walls of the room.

He lifted his face and stared at her. The gray pallor of his skin made her gasp. His violet eyes squinted in pain as though he suffered the most profound misery. “Where the fuck were you, wife? Or perhaps the better question would be, who were you fucking, wife?”

His ugly accusation cried out for an equally nasty retort. How easily she could have wished him to hell. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled a steadying breath. She assured herself he was not in a rational state of mind. “My lord, do not invent ridiculous scenarios just so you have an excuse to fall back on your habit. Surely you know the Ducketts, your neighbors. I have been friends with them since I arrived here.”

“Aren’t you the social one,” he drawled. “And do these neighbors know that you are married to me?”

“You may be reassured. They think I am Henry’s stepdaughter and nothing more. It seemed wise to keep the marriage out of public knowledge.”

“Admit it, you are too ashamed to own it.” His trembling, blistered hand worked the knot of the drawstring. “Consequences to your reputation be damned. I would have you announce it to the whole bloody world. When you deceived me, you forfeited any right to disavow this marriage.”

“But you may disavow it and void it any time you wish.” “Dammit, woman, that is my privilege.” He loosened the pouch.

Desperate, she skirted the squat table, bruising her shin on the corner of it before hurling herself at him. As she had counted on, his reflexes were slow, and she managed

to grab hold of the bag. She jumped back, quaking with fear, and hid the bag behind her back.

His body shuddered with shallow breaths and he stared at her as if she’d just ripped the heart from his chest. A short laugh bordering on hysteria escaped the side of his mouth. “You are mad, woman. I could snatch that bag from your hands and have you naked and underneath me before you blinked those fine green eyes.”

She maneuvered behind a chair. The bag was pressed firmly between her bottom and the cold stone. “I think you are a tad overconfident, Lord Blackwood. After all, I retrieved the bag from you before you were able to blink
your
fine eyes.”

He took a heavy step forward. “You think I have fine eyes?” He shoved aside the chair.

Trying to make her movements imperceptible, she slid her hand into the sack and felt blindly. She closed a vial into her fist. “Well, I will admit they are rather bloodshot today,” she said, “but, generally speaking, they are very fine eyes.”

His mouth lowered to hers but he did not kiss her. “Stop playing games, Jessie, and give me the blasted bag.” His expression hovered between pleading and agony.

Sandwiched between the wall and his muscular body, she threw the bag at him and squeezed out of the small space. He grabbed the sack midair and clutched it against his chest as if the contents were precious. And judging by his expression, they were. He reached inside and then froze. His gaze flew to her face.

Jessie unfurled her fingers and took the stopper from the bottle she held. She raised it to her lips. “For every drink you take, I shall take one,” she said.

“Don’t be absurd, woman.” He put his palm out for the bottle.

“There is nothing absurd about it. You, a man who has everything, desires the contents of this little bottle above everything else. So I’ve decided that it must be well worth it.”

He shrugged and plunged his hand in the sack and removed the remaining vial of laudanum.

Jessie’s stomach clenched. How would she go through with this? She’d gambled on her belief that the intimacy they’d shared had forged a deeper connection. Yet here he was indifferent to her sampling a substance that had put him on a path to misery.

The cork popped easily out of the bottle and he raised it to his lips. She mirrored his movement. His gaze never left her face.

Jessie did not waver. The rim of the bottle tasted bitter as she pressed it against her mouth.

He dropped his hand and she experienced a moment of relief which lasted only as long as it took him to speak. “You are going about this all wrong.” He pulled a thin metal cylinder from the pouch. “If you are to keep up with me, you must pace yourself. I am inured to the stuff. A swig is nothing for me. But it will knock you flat and then how will you match me dose for dose?” He moved near, took her wrist and lowered the bottle from her mouth. He dipped the cylinder into the vial she held. With his thumb placed over the open hole he lifted the thin tube from the liquid and gently tapped the excess off. “Hold your hand out. Palm side up.”

The man was calling her bluff and she refused to back down. She did as he asked. “That’s a good girl.” He proceeded to place a drop on the rounded pad of three of her

fingers. “Ready, then? Shall we do this on the count of three?”

His dare pushed her to the edge. Without waiting for him to begin his mocking count she brought her pinky to her lips, careful to hold the other fingers steady so the drops would stay intact. Before she could taste it he seized her wrist and wiped the laudanum on his shirt. She let her hand rest against his shirt where the streaks of laudanum left off and felt the rapid beat of his heart.

“Jessie, my stubborn little witch,” he said with a shake of his head. He corked the bottle and dropped it back into the sack.

“I’ll take this away so you will not be tempted again,” she said, plucking it from his grasp and striding with haste toward the door.

“Wait.”

She stopped, worried that her small victory would be a fleeting one. If he’d changed his mind she was prepared to swing the bag against the stone wall. Cautiously, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yes, my lord?”

“You can’t just leave me like this. I am a wreck. I need something.”

Jessie’s eyes brimmed with tears. Such a sight he was, his tall, elegant physique unnaturally hunched with pain. The sorrow in his face made him that much more appealing.

Jessie clutched the small sack tightly as she walked toward him. Up close, the torment was palpable. Sweat drenched every inch of him. His eyes narrowed as if even the weak light the narrow window provided hurt them. And he’d ravaged his fingers

somehow. They were raw and bleeding. She reached up and placed her palm on his cheek. His skin gave off a clammy heat. “We need to cool the fire.”

The desperation in his expression threatened her resolve. In her hand she held the magic that would soothe his pain.

“My lord, if you are up to a walk across your grounds, I know of a refreshing spot to take a swim.”

“The only way a swim will help is if you attach heavy rocks to my limbs so I can find a merciful death on the bottom.” His gaze lowered to the bag in her hand and he stared at it longingly. The long black lashes contrasted starkly against the paleness of his skin.

Jessie shifted the sack behind her again, and he brought his focus back to her face. “Yes, I suppose suicide would be the easiest way out of this predicament. Particularly if you are a coward.”

He flinched at her words. “Are you calling me a coward?”

“No, I said suicide would be the perfect solution for a coward. I would find it hard to believe that the man standing in front of me who has endured five torturous years in prison would surrender to a little pain.”

He raked the hair from his face. “Poking your finger on the end of a letter opener is a little pain. I have had a leather strap flay the skin from my back and still it was nothing compared to what I am feeling right now.”

The image of him being flogged made her heartsick. “If you want my help, I am happy to give it. But I cannot do it without you.”

They stood in complete silence for a long moment. “Let’s go swimming,” he said quietly.

Before venturing out, Jessie ran to the main house to remove her riding clothes and put on a lightweight morning dress. She shoved the bag and its tempting contents behind her undergarments in the wardrobe drawer.

The path to the small lake on the south end of the estate snaked through an unruly mass of trees. It was a strange, out-of-place wilderness that seemed to have popped up unheeded while the rest of the grounds were trim and tame. The water, which was more an oversized pond than a lake, jutted from the back of the forested land clear of the screen of trees except for one spot which was shadowed by pines and seemed to absorb the cool green of their leaves. But for that shaded patch, rays of unimpeded sunlight kept the rather shallow pool warm enough for a swim even on an early spring day.