Dark Hero; A Gothic Romance (Reluctant Heroes) (27 page)

“I would never hurt you.” Donovan interjected, grasping her
by the shoulders. “And I want you, Elizabeth, I want you; more than you can
imagine.”

“You’ve a strange way of showing it. You’ve been avoiding me
for weeks.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What I wanted? Then why do I feel as if I’m being punished?
All you ever do is snarl at me. You act as if you can’t stand me—as if you
regret marrying me—“

“No!” His grasp tightened on her arms. “I love you,
Elizabeth. I would do anything for you, anything you ask. I’ll do whatever I
must to make things right between us.”

Only the water from the fountain could be heard behind them
in the agonizing seconds that passed. Elizabeth stood still, weighing his
words.

His eyes were wide, pleading, never wavering from her regard
as he waited for her response.

“I cannot live in fear of your dark count anymore.” She went
on in a rush of pent up emotion. “I’ll have no more of your disguises. No more
games of intrigue, no more watching you pretend to be a bachelor with the
maids, or wondering which one will become your mistress!”

“—Lizzie--it’s not like that—I’m trying to protect--“

 “O’Rourke, unhand the lady at once.” Giles was standing on
the other side of the fountain, a blanket in his hand and dangerous look on his
face. “Come, Madame, the boy said you were chilled.” He held out the blanket,
waiting for her to step out of the fountain.

“Its fine, Giles, back off!” Donovan said dismissively.

“No! It is not fine.” The Englishman scolded. “You are
bullying my mistress again and we will not tolerate such behavior. Come, Madame,
away from this brute.”

Elizabeth glared at Donovan, waiting for him to prove he
meant those pretty words he just said. Waiting for him to prove this was not
just an act for the benefit of his friend.

“Giles, assemble the servants.” Donovan said. “I need to
make an announcement.”

 “One more condition,” Elizabeth decided to make the best of
it while she had the chance. “I want Giles to be my butler, the head of the
household staff instead of Tabby.”

“Consider it done.” Donovan boldly kissed her cheek before
releasing her and stepping out of the pool. He clapped Giles on the shoulder.
“You passed with flying colors, old boy.”

“My lady?” Giles intoned, waiting for her to explain the
stable master’s odd behavior.

Not up to the task of explaining her husband’s elaborate
masquerade, she stepped out of the pool. Donovan took the blanket and wrapped
it about her shoulders. Elizabeth shivered. Her legs felt boneless. It seemed
the ground had been transformed to pitching seas. She swallowed the coppery
taste in the back of her throat. A peculiar detachment was stealing over her.

She heard her husband cursing as the world was plunged into
an inky darkness.

Chapter
Twenty Three

“God-damn-it!” Donovan caught Elizabeth, preventing her head
from slipping to the cobblestones. Sinking to his knees while holding her torso
against him, he jerked off a glove with his teeth and placed two fingers in her
mouth to prevent her from choking on her tongue.

“Find his lordship, quickly!” The middle aged footman
shouted, causing Donovan to look up for a brief instant. The courtyard had been
empty moments ago. Now a pack of wide eyed maids stood watching with a mixture
of horror and fascination as their mistress convulsed and jerked like a fish on
the docks beneath the effects of a full blown grand mal seizure.

“I’m right here.” He insisted. His declaration went unheard
over the footman’s bellowing. He concentrated on the convulsing girl whose head
was cradled on his knees. “I’m here, Lizzie. It’s all right.” He glanced about
for Jack and was relieved to see the man emerge from the front door with Pearl
hurrying after him. The pair brushed past the line of bewildered servants and
knelt to assist him rather than join the fools gathered as if to watch a freak
show.

“Don’t just stand there like stupid cows.” Giles shrieked.
“Find the count. He’s a doctor!” The maids scurried into the house to search
for a man who did not exist.

“Pearl, tell Giles who I am.” Donovan said, as the
convulsions eased. Elizabeth became deathly still. “Lizzie.” He pleaded. “Don’t
do this, Sweetheart, you need to stay awake.”

“Let’s get her inside.” Jack suggested, touching Donovan’s
shoulder.

“Yes, my lord.” A very florid Giles added, as Pearl nodded
beside him. “Her ladyship will be more comfortable in a soft bed.”

Once he had Elizabeth safely in his room, he began to remove
her wet clothing.

“Shame on you, O’Rourke!” Elizabeth’s maid slapped his hand
away from her mistress. “Go find his lordship.” She ordered in a Spanish accent
softened by her Caribbean upbringing.

“I am his lordship.” Donovan snapped, now thoroughly
exasperated by the ruse.

Pearl entered the chamber with his physician’s case. “What
else can I do, my lord?”

“Oh!” Chloe sputtered, gazing at him with alarm. “Por favor,
she did not say anything!”

“I instructed her not to.” Donovan replied. Chloe helped him
remove Elizabeth’s wet clothing. A slice of fear went through him as he
discovered bruising along his wife’s hips and ribcage. Judging by the
discoloration, they were several days old. Recalling her penchant for climbing
ladders, he looked to the maid. “How did this happen? Did she fall recently?”

“I do not know, my lord.” Chloe returned, but the look in
her eyes unsettled him.

The sun lowered in the sky.

Elizabeth remained unconscious.

Donovan forgot Jack was downstairs until Pearl came to
inform him the captain was leaving. He didn’t want to leave Elizabeth’s side,
so he had his valet escort Jack up to his suite.

“All this time,” Jack stood at the foot of the bed, “and
she’s not regained consciousness?”

 Donovan nodded, resentment mingling with his fear as he sat
beside his wife.

“What happened in the courtyard?”

“A brain seizure. I won’t know how serious until she regains
consciousness.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Jack promised, stepping close to
grasp Donovan’s shoulder.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, it is.” Jack’s voice, like his, quickly dropped the
friendly tone. “I promised Elizabeth I would see her through this and I intend
to keep that promise.”

“Damn it, Jack, you’re overstepping your bounds.”

“I don’t care. I’ll keep coming, until I’m assured she’s not
being mistreated, until I hear from her lips that she’s willing to remain with
you after the spiteful way you’ve treated her!”

“Did she ask your help in leaving me?”

“No, but she did say if she were in England, she’d have
taken refuge with her grandfather by now.” Jack returned, looking him square in
the eye, “Which speaks volumes to me; the lady is obviously not happy as Mrs.
Beaumont and has thought about leaving you.”

Donovan rose from the chair with his fists clenched. “How
convenient—for you.”

“Don’t you dare accuse me of foul play.” Jack retorted. “I’m
here as a concerned friend.”

“Of course you are, Jack.” Donovan was barely able to
contain his urge to throttle the man. “She’s a beautiful woman and it’s a long
voyage to England. You’d hardly allow a young lady of quality to make the
journey alone. Be honest, you want her.”

“No.” Jack countered. “What I want is for Elizabeth to feel
safe again after all that’s happened to her. She does not feel safe living
here, with you. She sought my help because she’s frightened by your behavior. I
don’t give a damn what you think, I will not look the other way when a woman I
care for deeply is being subjected to intolerable cruelty.”

There it was. The truth. Donovan didn’t say a word. He just
kept glaring at the man.

 Jack didn’t attempt to deny his declaration of having
feelings for Elizabeth. “Don’t look at me like that. If the situation were
reversed, if my wife sought your help because my behavior frightened her, you’d
be right there, your hand at my throat, demanding I set things right.”

“Get out of my house!”

*******

Elizabeth opened her eyes. She gazed about with alarm. She
was in a strange room. The candles were lit. It was evening. Her mind wasn’t
working properly. She couldn’t remember this place. She gazed at the man
sitting in a chair beside the bed. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my room, at Ravencrest Estates.” The dark haired
man leaned close to scrutinize her with pale blue, anxious eyes. “Do you know
who I am?”

“Of course!” She insisted, disturbed by his question and her
uncertainty of the answer.

And then it came to her. Relieved, she loosened her death
grip on the covers and smoothed them with her palms. He must not know of her
queer mental lapses, the lost bits of time and her inability to recall where
she was for a brief span when she emerged from the frightening episodes. “You
are my husband.”

“That’s right, darlin’. What is my name?” He persisted.

Elizabeth swallowed the uneasy feeling in her throat. “Donovan.”

The tension in his features lessened a little. “What is the
last thing you remember?”

Everything was fuzzy. It was an effort to think. She tried
to sit up.

“No.” He cautioned, preventing her from rising. “You had a
seizure this afternoon. You’ve been unconscious for nine hours. You need to
rest, Lizzie.”

A seizure? That was news. Epileptics had seizures. She
wasn’t an epileptic, was she?

“Can you remember where you were and what you were doing
before you collapsed?”

Elizabeth rolled her lips. She tried to concentrate. She’d
been at the fountain, with Peter. They discovered tadpoles. “You—you stepped
into the fountain--you ruined your boots.”

“I can afford another pair.” Frowning, he lifted a candle
from the nightstand and held it near her face.

“Look at me, let me see your eyes.” He leaned down close to
peer into her eyes. “Does your head hurt?”

“No---yes--a little. You stepped into the fountain; you said
that you love me?”

“I do love you. I thought you knew that.” He set the candle
aside.

She didn’t know. He never said it and lately, he’d been
acting just the opposite.

“Count backwards, from ten. Please, dearest, it’s
important.”

Elizabeth did so, and then she was asked to state her full
name. Donovan nodded and asked her to tell him the date. She stared at him,
unable to do so.

“How old are you?” He asked when she didn’t answer the
previous question.

“Sixteen—eighteen? Where is Captain Rawlings?”

“The captain left.” His eyes hardened and the tenderness
left his voice as he sat up straight, pulling away from her. “He’ll be back,
come morning. Did you write to Jack and ask his help in leaving me?”

God in Heaven—what did the captain say to him?

“I never told him I wished to leave you!” She clutched his
hand, desperate to make him believe her. “I was frightened; I asked him here to
t-talk—I--Oooh---ssss!”

Pain shot through her skull. Her body felt as if it were all
just one great bruise.

*******

“Easy, lass, don’t try to talk.” Donovan eased her back onto
the pillows. He pushed up the sleeve of her gown to check her pulse and cursed.
The back of Elizabeth’s wrist was turning bluish-crimson. Similar marks were
forming at her elbow and on her left arm. He stood and lifted the covers. Sure
enough, the backs of her legs and her hips were darkening ominously.

 A sick dread settled in his gut. Jack had been insistent
about making sure she was not being mistreated. If Jack convinced Lizzie to
leave him, this could be the proof needed to petition the court for a divorce
on the grounds of cruelty. And Donovan knew his carefully cultivated reputation
as Count Rochembeau was enough to make any magistrate suspect him of the
charges, regardless of his innocence.

He could not lose Elizabeth. Not like this, falsely accused
of something he didn’t do.

In her fragile mental state she might be manipulated by a
cunning rogue desperate for money--someone with a gallant streak—someone who
desperately needed to rescue a woman from a brutish captor to assuage his guilt
for not saving his beloved. Someone like Black Jack.

Donovan tamped down the rising panic. He had to focus on the
cause of Elizabeth’s battered condition, not his fear of being falsely accused
of vile crimes yet again.

Why did she have bruises on her ribs? They were older than
the ones forming now.

“Elizabeth,” he asked, unable to keep the anxious warble
from his voice. “Where did you get the bruises on your abdomen?”

Her hand moved protectively to her left side. It must still
be tender, he realized. “Sleepwalking. I bump into things, and then I wake up.
As I did the other night.”

He recalled hearing a loud thump in her room and finding her
lying on the floor. Sleepwalking? That was cause for concern. “Have you ever
awakened outside your room?”

“No, but I do seem to wake up on the floor a great deal of
late.”

Donovan released his breath. He was relieved, and yet,
disturbed by her confession. He patted her leg. “From now on you will sleep
here, with me. We can’t have you wandering about, stumbling into things or
falling down the stairs.” He added quickly, fearing she’d misinterpret his
intentions and protest. She didn’t. She remained quiet, subdued.

This wasn’t like Lizzie. She always had some smart remark or
argument to toss at him.

He watched her, concerned at her pliant behavior. Well, it
had been a very trying day.

The bruises upset him. Sleepwalking might explain the older
marks, but how did she come to be bruised from head to toe tonight? The new
bruises weren’t present when he undressed her this afternoon. Chloe could
attest to that. It was as if an unseen force had assaulted her while she lay
unconscious. That was preposterous—he was here the whole time.