Captive Scoundrel (18 page)

“Come inside me, Justin. Please.” For you are my life.

He surged at her invitation, and though she suffered a moment of discomfort and amazement, Faith welcomed him with joy.

Justin moved slowly, until he filled her, the satisfaction of destiny and fate soothing her. And when her discomfort passed and she could feel him unmoving, for her sake, she raised her hips to take him deeper.

At the invitation, Justin buried himself in her. And when she sighed and relaxed, he slipped from her in one long, sleek stroke, her cry of loss bringing him back again. And again.

He touched chords never played and they made music fit to reach heaven. He showed her his rhythm, and as if she’d always known it, they swayed and dipped in harmony.

Justin led her to a sparkling crescendo, bringing her so high, she feared to go beyond, and when she thought she could not, he made her soar again.

Faith followed her love to the brink of everlasting, and left the world behind. They shared a perfect ascent and surged to an all-consuming zenith where they marvelled and held. Then, at a contented, leisurely pace they returned to a world forever-altered. Faith luxuriated in the serene moments when their hearts beat apace, slowing, calming. And she slept.

“Faith,” her lover whispered, stroking her deeply and intimately. “Now you must marry me,” he whispered, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in his voice.

Faith’s bubble burst. “Must I?” Silent moments passed.

“It’s a good bargain, Faith, this marriage between us.”

Loathe to put space between them, she remained by his side. “Yes,” she whispered, sadly. “A bargain of an arrangement.”

“Then you agree?”

She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat.

“Answer me, Faith. I’m a sick man, remember.”

“Yes,” she said swallowing. “Your infirmity was abundantly evident just now.”

He pulled her against his warm, delicious front and caged her legs with his. “Go to sleep, my stubborn lady. You will marry me, else I’ll tell Vicar Kendrick that you’re a fallen woman. Though I think he’s fallen a time or two himself.”

Heartsick, Faith could not work up the energy to be amused when she should. “Have you ever seen a man have apoplexy? It cannot be pretty. Best say I have fallen cap-over-tail for you.”

“Good,” Justin said, nipping her earlobe.

“Fine,” Faith returned. “I don’t like it above half, but we’ll lie.”

Harris returned early in the morning and headed for Justin’s room near eight o’clock. Though he carried a new vial of medicine, his intention was to keep Miss Faith from using it. There came a time in life, he decided, retainer or no, when one had to speak. And for him, today was that day.

The door to the bedroom was locked, but he had a key. As he used it, he saw the door had been broken and repaired. Odd that.

He went in, determined to speak his mind … and stopped at the sight of his bare-legged Mistress entangled with his near-dead master. The tray slipped from his hand.

At the resounding crash, his master sat bolt upright. “Have a care, man. You’ll wake the dead.”

Harris, hand on his pounding heart, fell into a chair. With shaking hands, he wiped his brow and stared at the vision staring back. “Wake the dead? I already have! You were damned near dead last time I saw you.”

“That bad, was I?”

Harris nodded, unable to believe he was having a conversation with his master. And that very ghost glanced at his wide-eyed nurse, covered to her chin, and grinned back. “I am recovered.”

Harris sensed the tension crackling between the two, and it was the kind shouldn’t be witnessed. He grinned. “I’m thinkin’ it must have taken somethin’ wicked to rouse you from hell.”

“Wicked, yes. Faith did it,” his master said proudly.

“Has my mistress found some miraculous cure, then?” Harris asked, laughter beyond his control.

The wicked nurse slithered low under the blankets, but his master pulled her against him, for all the world as if he owned her. “She has magnificent…curative powers.”

“Justin Devereux!” she screeched. “I don’t know which of you I’m angrier with. The smirking half-wit beside me … yes you, Justin. Or you, Harris, with your daft grin. If you will stop your gawking and childish humour, and depart, you may return in an hour. We’ll explain Justin’s recovery then.” She wagged her finger. “Mind, no one suspects Justin’s improvement so you had better—” She raised a brow— “Close your mouth. Now, Harris.”

Harris shut his jaw on a chuckle and retreated, laughing anyway when he tripped over their discarded nightclothes.

Justin caught Harris’s bold wink before he shut the door.

Back ramrod-straight, arousing as all hell, Faith rose, dragging the blanket with her, leaving him exposed, and wrapped it about herself, fury in her emerald eyes. “I can’t believe this!” She threw her hands in the air, almost losing the blanket.

He tried to help her catch it and she ripped it from his hand. “You enjoyed that, Justin Devereux. Sometimes you can be such a half-wit.” She strode from the room, majestic in her anger, making him laugh the harder, and want her the more.

He finally stopped laughing and grabbed his dressing gown from the bed. Perhaps this arrangement might be as beneficial to them—if he survived Vincent’s scheme—as it would be for Beth.

He had never felt this way, exactly, about another woman.

He desired Faith, yes, yet this was stronger, deeper, and both more and less sexual, than he’d ever known. It was not simple lust with Faith, though God knew, last night had been one of the best in his life. As if they had met on some remote spiritual plane at the same moment they melded on the physical.

Heady stuff, that, he thought, as he moved to his wheelchair and went to the windows. He watched the sea, but saw her face in moonlight, lips swollen from his kisses, parted and inviting.

Before long, her soft tread whispered of her coming. “Come to me, Faith,” he said without turning.

She stopped behind him, but he reached around and brought her onto his lap, cheek to cheek and lips to lips. But even after the kiss, she remained wary. “Forgive me?” he asked.

She considered his request for a moment. “Perhaps. Someday. Maybe.”

“It was only Harris, after all.”

“Your lack of perception boggles. You are such a birdwit.”

He nuzzled her neck. “You’re right.”

“And well you know it.” She rose at his body’s response, but he stroked the blond lace along her bodice. “You look fetching.” With quick action, he had her back on his lap and stole her lips.

Harris coughed.

Faith stood. “Harris,” she said. “You startled me…us.”

“Sorry. Old habits. From now on, I won’t come in till you open the door. Can you tell me about this cure, now?” He cleared his throat. “Tell me, true, how did it come about?”

They related the tale, Justin giving Faith credit, and Faith giving it back, Harris nodding all the while. “I can’t tell you how it was to walk in here and see you returned to the living.”

Justin tried to keep from smiling. “What did you find in London? Faith tells me you were searching for the doctor and the source of the poison you were feeding me.”

Harris straightened. “I didn’t know I was hurting you!”

Justin touched his arm. “No man has ever been more devoted. Thank you for what you did for me.” Justin took Faith’s hand and entwined their fingers. “Now then, tell us what you discovered.”

“Stevens, the doctor tended you in London, told your brother that with care, you could be hale and whole again, but he was dismissed with the excuse you were being brought here to recover. He warned against the move and he did not prescribe the potion.”

“Do you know anything about the doctor who did?”

“Old sot can’t tend animals, let alone people. Far as I could see, he only called himself a doctor. You were right Missy, about Blackstone having money of a sudden. Likely hired out’a gaol, cause that’s where he was cooling his heels before your accident, your grace. Ain’t no one thought much of his doctoring. Known better for his drinking and gambling.”

Harris turned to Faith. “You scared him, ringing a peel over him, cause after he left here, he took ship for America.”

“I chased him away!” Faith cried. “He can’t help us now.” Justin squeezed her hand. “We’ll come about. The medicine?” he asked Harris. “Did the apothecary say who sells it?”

Harris shook his head. “An apothecary in Seven Dials said an urchin from the Rookery, never the same one twice, comes to his door with your medicine every few weeks. Likely enough vermin between buyer and seller to keep us looking for the culprit. I did find a bloke to give us a fair accounting of what’s in it.” Harris fished in his pocket. “Wrote it down.” He handed Faith the paper.

She scanned it. “This Mr. Baldershaw says that from the red-brown colour and bittersweet taste, he believes it’s, in part, a decoction of the poppy. The opium made you sleep, Justin. It also contains liquorice and cloves to make it taste better.”

“Doesn’t work,” Justin said.

Faith grimaced. “He soaked bread with the medicine and fed it to gutter rats. Oh, Lord, they died!” Knowing she might have made a different decision, Faith shuddered, appalled.

Encouraged by Justin’s nod, she continued. “The opium is mixed with sherry to strengthen the effects. He thinks it could have hemlock or deathcap powder, no more than a few grains of either. Oh, here he says, it’s likely Hemlock, which keeps the victim’s mind functioning while destroying his body.”

“The nightmares,” Justin said. “Me tied at the base of a black pit while I watched Beth tumble to her death, over and over again.”

Harris frowned and turned to gaze out the window.

Faith squeezed Justin’s shoulder and he placed his hand over hers. The clock struck the hour, marking Justin’s life, rather than his death, and Faith gave thanks.

“Since the poison did not result in death, Mr. Baldershaw suspects it was made with the spring root of the hemlock. He says it’s much less potent in spring than at any other time of year and only an amateur would make the mistake.” She shook her head. “Thank God for an amateur. These ingredients together, he says, would produce sleep, strange dreams, delirium, and discomfort or pain, depending upon the amounts.”

“It works,” Justin said dryly.

“If taken in larger doses or over a long enough period, death would result,” Faith said with a shudder. “If, after a prolonged period, one were to stop taking it, severe symptoms could result. We know about them. He goes on to suggest the victim might have formed an immunity to one or more of the toxins or a combination of them. He says milk expunges the effects of the poison. Knowing you were given milk often, no one will ever know for certain how or why you survived.”

Harris sat, looking worn. “He didn’t believe you’d been taking it twice a day for so long. When he saw how little was the dose, he thought the person who made it particularly clever, or particularly ignorant. Its having opium in it might help him find where it came from. He’ll ask around but it’ll take time since he must take care. I waited to receive the answer, but it never came. Could have sent a note, Miss Faith, but soon as Baldershaw give me this, I came back so you’d stop dosing him.

“I’m glad,” Justin said. “Anyone could have read the note and we were worried about you.”

“Sorry, your grace. I feared you might be dead, but not worried.” He nodded at Faith. “Thought she was daft. Light, air, cleaning, bathing, changing the curtains, as if that would help, and wanting it done yesterday. Bossy she was, ordering—”

“That’s enough, Harris,” Faith said. “We have to stop Vincent before he tries again. You must return to London to find out who supplies and buys those ingredients.”

“Be careful,” Justin added. “Talk to Baggins at my London house about the accident. Ask what happened when I was brought back to Grosvenor Square afterward. And Catherine’s old nurse—get her name and direction. Cat might have told her something.”

“Harris,” Faith said. “See who found Catherine and Justin after the accident. Vincent’s servants might have answers.”