What A Rogue Wants (22 page)

Anger filled his belly and sent him
surging to his feet to prowl the room. Liz wouldn’t die. He’d not
allow it. She was too young and healthy. And he needed her. She was
his confidant, his twin. She understood the loneliness he’d felt
most his life because she too had felt like an outcast in their
family. Father and Edward had always had a special bond, and Mother
and Marianne had been thick as thieves to the exclusion of Liz.
When their oldest sister had died, their mother died in spirit
right along with her, which was one of the reasons he’d suggested
Liz come to Court. Here, she could spread her wings and quit trying
to become Marianne to please Mother. If Liz had contracted some
vile disease here that killed her, he would never forgive
himself.

He paced around the room. He felt
helpless and caged. He wanted to flee, saddle up his stallion and
ride until numbness took hold. This fear falling over him was
unacceptable. Weakness was not an option.

He had to do something. He strode back
and forth some more. No good. He was going to go mad. Liz muttered
and stirred in her bed. He raced over to her side and fell to his
knees. “Liz.” He smoothed the damp hair off her forehead. “It’s
Grey. I’m here, poppet.” A crooked, cracked smile wobbled on her
lips. Leaning over her, he pressed a kiss to her burning forehead
and started to lay his head beside her as they had done as
children, but her hand came to his chest to push him
away.

“
Don’t get too close.” Her
eyes opened into slits, and her hand fell to her side.

“
Whatever you have, I’m
too strong to succumb.”

Liz shook her head. After an
interminable moment, she focused her watery eyes on him. “No.
You’re not. You’re―” A cough rumbled in her throat becoming so loud
and violent that it curled her body into itself. Grey grasped her
around the shoulders as her body shook with each cough and ran a
hand gently through her hair. “Handkerchief,” she gasped between
coughs.

He searched around her bed and found a
pile of crumpled handkerchiefs. Frowning at the mess, he handed one
to her and grabbed another one to inspect. The red stains on the
white linen made his blood run cold. His fingers curled around
Liz’s shoulder.

Was she thinner than she had been a
week ago? A month? When the last cough died, she flopped back
against the bed covers and lay with her eyes drooping and the
handkerchief balled in her fist. He uncurled her fingers without
her protesting.

Bringing the handkerchief closer, his
heart squeezed painfully at the sight of more blood.

“
Consumption,” she
wheezed. “The doctor thinks I have consumption.”

A strangled sound escaped his throat
before he could control himself. His insides knotted into fear.
Consumption had taken Marianne from them and might as well have
taken their mother. Consumption was horrible. God couldn’t be that
bloody cruel to allow two of his sisters to be taken by the same
disease. “Has everyone run off then?” Bitterness flowed through his
veins. He remembered how some of the servants, including Marianne’s
lady’s maid, had fled their house when the physician had pronounced
she had consumption.

Liz’s eyes opened just a bit. “Not
everyone. Aunt Helen won’t go.”

“
That’s my girl.” Grey’s
heart filled with gratitude and love.

Liz chuckled almost too soft to hear
but the act caused another coughing spree to commence. After the
attack ended, he pressed a glass of water to her lips.
“Drink.”

She obeyed, though he wasn’t sure how
much water actually made it into her mouth. It seemed more ended up
on her night rail than down her throat. Once he found a towel and
patted her dry, he settled beside her on the bed again. “Where is
the physician?”

“
Gone to get his bleeding
kit.” Liz shuddered. She grasped for his hand and when he took up
her hand, she curled hers gently into his as she used to do when
they were children and would walk hand in hand around the lake. He
blinked at the moisture in his eyes. Damned dry room. “Don’t let
him bleed me.” Panic and fear edged her words.

He pictured Marianne, skeletal with
blood dripping down her arms from the hundreds of puncture wounds
administered by the physician’s spring blade. Liz didn’t need to
plead her case. No way in hell would another well-meaning physician
drain too much blood and send another one of his sisters to an
early grave. He squeezed Liz’s hands. “I’ll kill him if he
tries.”

“
Good,” she murmured.
“Make her go.”

“
Who, poppet?”

“
Madelaine. She won’t
leave me alone either.” Liz coughed again, but this time there was
no blood. He swallowed against the consuming dryness in his mouth.
Liz smiled wanly. “She’s stubborn like Helen. But she must leave,
so she will live.”

“
Don’t worry about
Madelaine living.” The thought of losing Madelaine
and
his sister hollowed
out his stomach.

“
For you,” Liz said.
“Silly fool. She’s perfect for you. Can’t have her dying. Convinced
yourself you don’t need love.” Liz sighed, her eyes fluttering
closed. “But you do. You need her. She’ll never hurt you as Father
has.”

“
Shh.” He tried to soothe
her. With a sigh, she settled into the blanket, and he pulled the
cover up under her chin. As he watched her fall into a light sleep
and then the deeper one of dreams, he moved from the bed so as not
to disturb her and pulled a chair beside the bed. He tugged off his
jacket and cravat and leaned back to wait. If the physician, his
aunt and Madelaine were returning, there was no sense in him going
in search of them. He’d likely miss them anyway. He couldn’t
stomach the thought of leaving Liz alone. He slumped in the chair
and rubbed his aching neck. Liz’s words rang through his
head.

His sister was partially right, he had
convinced himself he didn’t need love, but finding out the real
reason his father and Edward had always seemed to exclude him and
not want him around had released some unknown constraint within
him. He’d felt it these last few days. A lessening of whatever
invisible force had driven him from one scandalous pursuit to the
next. Knowing Madelaine and chancing his heart was something he
desperately wanted.

What he wasn’t entirely
certain of was whether she’d welcome his pursuit after he told her
that her father had denied his courtship. And a deuced irritating
voice kept whispering that he might be selfish in pursuing her.
She’d have to go against her father’s wishes,
and
didn’t she deserve more than a
husband who would lie to her? Still, he wasn’t selfless enough to
let her simply fade out of his life. There was something special
about her, some kindred longing in her eyes that moved
him.

The door creaked open, and as if
summoned by his thoughts of her, Madelaine drifted into the room,
her lilac skirts swishing around her ankles. She had a mound of
cloths under one elbow and a pitcher of water in her hand. As she
moved further into the room, her eyes lit up and a relieved smile
came to her face. “You’re here!”

Without a word, he stood and went to
her. Taking the pitcher of water he set it on the washstand, then
moved close to her so their talking would not disturb Liz. “Did you
doubt I’d come? Liz is my sister.”

“
Well, no.” Madelaine bit
her lip. “But after the doctor said it may be consumption and the
queen had Elizabeth moved to these quarters, some of the other
ladies-in-waiting said how awful it would be to die as Elizabeth
was going to―all alone with no one but the physician to keep her
company.”

He clenched his jaw, a string of
blistering words on the tip of his tongue. He settled on a rather
mild statement in case Liz could somehow hear him. “Those women are
vain nitwits who know nothing of me and the love I hold for my
sister. Death does not scare me, Madelaine, if it means my presence
comforts Liz.”

“
Me, either.”

The pull of a real smile tugged at his
lips. “I was afraid you might say that.”

Madelaine’s eyes grew big. “Well,
then. I suspect you now see the real, stubborn me. If you’d like to
change your mind about courting me, I understand.”

“
On the contrary. The real
you I’m glimpsing makes me want you even more.”

A smile played at her lips, though the
dark smudges under her eyes and the wisps of disheveled hair
framing her face so beautifully reminded him of the gravity of his
sister’s situation.

Needing for one second to feel the
comfort touching Madelaine would offer, he pulled her to him and
brushed a quick, light kiss across her warm lips. The contact moved
like lightning through his veins. The last thing he wanted to do
was release her, especially when a low moan escaped her. But he did
before anyone had the chance to pass by the open door, and she was
compromised. He may well indeed end up marrying her, but he’d not
have her name besmirched to see the deed accomplished.

Madelaine’s sleep had been far from
restful this past week. Worry over Elizabeth’s worsening condition
awoke her as it had all week like clockwork. She dressed and
trudged groggily down the five corridors and two flights of stairs
toward the isolated hall where Elizabeth had been moved. If Grey
was in the room, she wouldn’t go in, just as she hadn’t the last
three nights.

She had to limit the time
she was alone with him. It wasn’t proper. Not to mention Grey had
told her Father had denied his courtship. Until she could speak
with her father and ascertain what his objection was and perhaps
persuade him differently, she didn’t want to go against his wishes.
She’d hurt her mother by being so stubborn, and it was too late to
make amends, but she was determined never to hurt her father. She
would be a model daughter, even if it killed her.
What if Grey finds someone else?
Madelaine clenched her teeth. She hated the voice
of doubt inside her head.

She pushed the thought away. There was
no sense worrying over something she felt confident could be
changed. Likely, someone had whispered in her father’s ear of
Grey’s reputation as a rake. She’d simply explain to Father that he
was wrong and tell him how Grey was with his sister. Father would
have to change his mind. He’d always been a very reasonable man.
Well, except for when he’d insisted she had to find a husband at
Court. Still, a part of her understood he was only trying to secure
the best future for her.

Coming close to Elizabeth’s door,
Madelaine took extra care not to make a sound. She just wanted to
reassure herself that Elizabeth was still alive. She prayed Helen
was there and not Grey. Every time she saw him, she had to fight
the compulsion to talk to him, and after the dream she’d just had
about him, her need to be close to him was like a consuming
hunger.

She cracked open Elizabeth’s door. Her
pulse skittered at the sight of Grey by his sister’s side, his head
bent and his hands clasped together in front of him. His deep
murmur floated to Madelaine, and her mouth dropped open. Grey was a
praying man? She listened closer, her eyes bugging. Not only was
Grey praying, he was begging God to spare his sister’s life and
take him instead. No, no, no, foolish man! Tears filled her eyes.
She couldn’t live without him. She quickly said a prayer for
Elizabeth’s recovery and Grey’s continuing health.

She pulled the door quietly closed and
sagged against the wall. She was a fool to think she’d put up some
barrier between herself and Grey. Seeing him now begging for his
sister’s life was like a bucket of cold water thrown on her head.
There were not enough barriers in the world to guard her heart from
Grey.

The way he’d helped care for his
sister had shown him to be loving and honorable and everything she
had ever dreamed of in a man. When had she started to lose her
heart to him? She laughed at that. Most likely the moment she’d met
him in Golden Square.

She moaned and pressed her hand over
her mouth to hush herself. Even if she’d been sensible enough not
to melt like a schoolgirl at his touch, no warm-blooded woman could
keep herself fortified against a man who brushed his sister’s hair,
patiently gave her sips of water and broth, and threatened bodily
harm to the physician that had come to bleed Elizabeth.