Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (22 page)

Her head angled to deepen the kiss,
and Lyon’s passion surged. She reveled in his taste and scent, and her body
moved restlessly on him, unconsciously seeking a better fit. Suddenly his arm
tightened around her, and he groaned in frustration. Breathless and mortified,
she tore her mouth away.

“I am so sorry.” She tried to
scramble off him, but his grip only tightened more.  “What have I done? Lyon, I am so sorry.”

“Wait! Don’t go.” His breathing was
as uneven as hers.

Millicent was too embarrassed to
look into his face. She had practically attacked him. Tears of confusion rushed
into her eyes. She remembered so vividly how helplessly she had lain beneath
Wentworth’s body, time and time again, while he had his way with her. And now she had become the monster, a predator.  

“Get beneath these blankets.”

With her heart in her throat, she
looked at him in confusion. Lyon’s hand moved from her back, and he gently
wiped off the wetness on her face.

“You are shivering. Get beneath the
blankets with me and stay.”

It would be so much easier to run
away, to hide in her own bedchamber. But she could not run. This was different.
The brutality and the sadness of her past forced her to open her eyes and face
these unfamiliar sensations. She wanted better, and she was not running away.
She was not going to be frightened. 

Without another word, Millicent
slipped between the sheets and nestled against his warm body. Taking her hand,
he pressed it against his heart.

*****

The black child’s heart was
pounding hard. Jasper Hyde could see the vein at his temple pulsing
relentlessly.  On his face and neck and throat, there were more than a dozen
dark pimples. The boy had passed a wretched night of fever and pain. Hyde had
been told everything, but he could see for himself what was afflicting the
slave. It was smallpox.

“Take him to the forecastle.
Keep him away from the rest,” Hyde said to the ship’s master, who stood ready
to pass on the order. “I want a general inspection of the slaves. The crew
needs to be made aware, too. I want to know if there are any more cases.”

He was pacing the quarterdeck
when the answer came. It was a single case, but it could imperil the entire
ship. He could lose his entire cargo of slaves. He called to the ship’s master.

“Kill the boy. And the two who were nearest to him. Over the side with them all.”

Jasper Hyde awoke with a gasp. His
body was burning. Sweat dripped from his face, and he pulled off his periwig.
Afternoon sunlight poured into the room from the large windows of his study. He
must have fallen asleep in his chair after the late breakfast.

Suddenly panicking, he touched his
chest, his neck, his face, checking for the rashes. None. He didn’t have
smallpox. There was nothing wrong with him.

As if to contradict his thought, a
burning pain sliced through his heart. He grabbed his chest and leaned his head
back. It was like the twist of a knife, the heat of a poker. He pressed his
chest, trying to rid himself of the pain.

“Damn you, Ohenewaa,” he cursed,
trying to breathe.

The witch was everywhere, digging
her withered hands into him and steadily tearing the life out of him, out of
his fortune. The news had reached him this morning: A slave ship Hyde had
invested over twenty thousand pounds in less than three months ago had been
deliberately run aground on a beach near Accra on the coast of Africa. The slaves had mutinied and taken over the ship, murdering the captain and crew.
Two hundred seventeen slaves had disappeared back into the bush. The ship was
lost, all gone, and due entirely to the curses of a filthy black witch.

Hyde barked at the door when he
heard the knock. The pain in his chest was easing, but he didn’t dare move when
Harry’s face appeared.

“Mr. Boarham is here to see you,
sir.”

“Who the hell is he?”

Harry’s eyes motioned to someone
standing behind him. “The surgeon who bled Dr. Dombey before his death. You
sent for him.”

Hyde realized his hand was shaking
when he removed it from his chest. “Send him in.”

 Boarham entered the chamber
cautiously, and Hyde watched the man’s eyes darting from side to side, taking
in the whole room. Whether he was assessing the value of every item in sight or
making sure that a trap was not waiting for him, Hyde had no way of telling.
The man had kept his hat, a greasy tri-cornered affair too small for his head,
and it was propped on top of an old bagwig he was wearing. His face was badly
pocked, and for a small-shouldered man Boarham had a suspiciously large belly.
Hyde decided he probably carried his entire fortune in a satchel beneath his
coarse woolen coat and matching waistcoat.

Boarham approached and doffed the
hat with a nervous bow.

“Yer servant, sir. Ye’re needin’ to
be bled, sir?”

“No.”

“I’ve the finest leeches in London, sir. And I’ve served the finest. Even the Lord Mayor’s butler’s cousin, sir.”

“No.” Hyde answered sharply. “You
were with Dr. Dombey when he died, weren’t you?”

“Dr. Dombey? Oh, I know who ye
mean. Nay, sir, not when he died, but I visited him the night before. He was
good at taking his salts, he was. I had his slave woman make some rice milk for
him for supper. O’ course, I was astonished when she put an egg in it. But he was right as rain when I went away, sir. As I recall the next morning was market day. And ‘twas sleeting. Aye, the ground was ankle-deep with muck and mire when I went to the sheep
pens. I didn’t get back to Dombey until the old gent had passed on. You see I
never like to miss market day, sir, and—”

“Dr. Dombey owed you money, didn’t
he?”

“Well…” The leech stuck his finger
in one ear, took out a ball of wax and examined it absently before flicking it
across the room. “He had all kinds of creditors knockin’ on his door, and I
wasn’t chargin’ him much. But now that ye mention it—”

“I was hoping I might make good on
his debt, Mr. Boarham. He left some money with his slave to give to you. I have
it.”   

“That’s mighty Christian of ye, sir.” The drool practically hung from the man’s lip.

Hyde leaned forward in his chair.
“You are not the first one that she cheated—the slave woman—and that is why,
being a good friend of Dombey, I have taken it on myself to set the wrongs to
right.” He opened a small wooden casket from the table beside his chair and
took a bag of coins from it. “Now, how much did he owe you?”

Boarham’s hands clutched the edges
of his hat, and he held it to his chest. “I…I believe ‘twas two guineas, sir.”

Hyde drew a handful of coins from
the bag and watched his visitor’s eyes light up at the sight of gold. “And I thought he owed you so much more. I have fifty pounds here, Mr. Boarham.”

“Maybe he owed me more, and I
couldn’t remember?” he blurted quickly.

“Perhaps he did. But I think your memory is very important, Mr. Boarham. Perhaps you might even remember that Dr.
Dombey’s death was caused by the greedy slave who is holding on to all his money.”

“That old slave woman, sir?”

“The same one, Mr. Boarham.” Hyde started stacking the gold coins next to him.

“I remember her well, sir.” His
gaze locked on the coins. “She looked to be a low down poisoner, sir, if ever I
seen one.

“Did you know she is a witch?”

The surgeon looked up startled and
quickly crossed himself. “Is she, now?”

“Aye, my good man. And you are going to help me prove it.”

“The day is wasting away, man.
Where the blazes is she?” Lyon bellowed as Gibbs entered the library with John
in tow.

“Your wife is just finishing her
interview with the stonemason. She said she will meet you in the gardens.”

“When? Next bloody week?” he
grumbled in annoyance.

Lyon’s irritation had begun this
morning when he had awakened to find Millicent gone. After that, while his
valets were getting him ready for the day, she had poked her head in only
fleetingly, mumbling excuses about the tasks she had to see to that morning. And she had not come back to see him even once, not even during breakfast. Now it was eleven
o’clock in the morning, and Lyon was at the end of his damned patience.

“’Tis a wee bit brisk out there,
m’lord, though nothing we’ve not seen rounding the Cape of Good Hope on our way
to India, I’d say. That aside, Lady Aytoun has insisted that ye should be
wearing a hat.”

Lyon took the hat Gibbs placed on
his knee and fired it across the floor. “Tell her if she is so bloody worried,
then she can come and see to it herself.”

The valets lined themselves up on
either side of his chair and carefully lifted him. As they tipped him ever so
slightly, he blasted them all for their incompetence. With the air of a true
martyr, Gibbs retrieved the hat and led the entourage out the door and through
the house.

 It was difficult for Lyon to understand, but last night had provided a fulfillment he’d not felt in months. The
explosive reaction of his body to her kiss was stunning. And the warmth that
had spread through him every time he’d stirred during the night and found
Millicent still at his side had been remarkable. In the past, he had always
felt the urge to leave a woman’s bed when the evening’s lovemaking was
complete, but the feel of this woman against him last night had changed his
mind. 

Lyon knew he was starting to depend
on Millicent. Perhaps he was just substituting her for the comfort that the
opium drops had brought him. But hell, he thought, even if he was, the woman
was flesh and bone, and he’d be dashed if it wasn’t more interesting to lose
himself in her kisses than to spend his time in a daze.    

Outside, the winter air was indeed
bracing, and Lyon took a few breaths, trying to adjust his lungs to the cold.
They carried him down toward the old-fashioned formal gardens. Over the wall he
could see trellises and arbors arranged amid symmetrically organized squares of
herbs and flowers and paths of greensward. Beyond the lower wall of the garden,
a landscape of fields and woods and evergreens stretched away from the house. Lyon glanced about him critically. The property needed some work, to be sure. But having glanced quickly at Melbury Hall’s ledgers from recent years, Lyon already knew that
renovation and upkeep of pleasure gardens and vistas were the last of
Millicent’s priorities.

He ducked
slightly as they conveyed him through the gated and arched entry to the formal
garden. Carefully they lowered the chair and positioned him next to a stone
bench to the left of the gate. It was a place protected by trellises and stone
walls that blocked most of the wind and yet captured the sun. A pair of
cardinals flitted from branch to branch of a vine on the wall nearby. The male
was more brightly colored than the female, and the birds went after the few bright
orange berries still left on the vine. 

“I am
here. So where is she?”

“Here!” Millicent
called breathlessly, walking briskly down the path. She was holding his hat in
one hand and some newspapers and a blanket tucked under an arm. Lyon stared at the well-worn woolen cloak. Its hood and lace edging framed her flushed face
prettily. Wisps of steam escaped her lips.

“Leave us,” he ordered his valets
as soon as she arrived at his side.

“Thank you. I shall call you when
his lordship is ready to come inside.” She smiled at the men, and they bowed
and took their leave. She dropped the papers and his hat on the bench and began
unfolding the blanket. “We cannot have you catch a chill on your first day out,
now, can we?”

“Don’t
you
have something
warmer to wear?” he asked irritably, watching her tuck the blanket around his
legs. “Your servants dress better than you do.”

“This cloak is quite sufficient,
thank you, and you can put a stop to your peevishness. This is a beautiful day,
and I plan for both of us to enjoy it.” Picking up his hat, she placed it on
his head and leaned down before him—cocking her head critically from one side
to the other—checking the fit. “Your head must be growing, for that hat seems
too small. Of course, the long hair and the shaggy growth on your face might
have something to do with the fit.”

“I do not wear the hat over my
beard.”

“If you gave any thought to hiding
your brooding disposition, perhaps you would.”

“And the logistics of that?”

“Quite simple, really.” She trailed
her fingers down one side of his face. “I can attach two long bits of ribbon to
the hat to loop about each of your ears.”

“Very stylish.”

“Of course, we shall have to be
clever about it and make them long enough to cross again over the front,
thereby fastening the hat securely over your mouth before the ribbons are tied
in a handsome bow above your head.”   

He couldn’t stop a smile from
forming on his lips. “So very clever.”

“I thought so.” She returned his
smile. “And thank you, this is far more pleasant.” 

She reached up to settle the hat
one more time, but he caught the ribbons at the neck of her cloak and pulled
her toward him until their lips brushed, lingering for a moment before pulling
apart.

“I think
this
is better,” he
said in a low voice. 

Lyon was hungry for more. He had
been fantasizing about her mouth all too often of late. She kissed with a
fervor that was unmatched in any woman he had ever met. Her mouth was an
instrument of desire, and she gave and took with more passion than most were
able to summon even in the very act of lovemaking. But he sensed Millicent’s
hesitancy this morning as she drew back and sat down on the bench, just out of
his reach.

“Why did you leave me in the middle
of the night?”