Desiring Lady Caro (12 page)

He took her hand and placed it on his arm. “You look charmingly.”

She found herself smiling. “Thank you. You are very handsome.”

A curious look flashed in his eyes but disappeared almost as soon as it had come. He grinned. “Thank you, my lady.”

As he started down the stairs to the parlor, she glanced at him. Candlelight brought out the golden streaks in his warm chestnut hair, making him more handsome than before. He was dressed nicely in a Spanish brown colored jacket that fit his frame perfectly. The tight trousers molded to his muscular legs. His cravat, though not extravagant, was tied with propriety. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to allow him to touch her. At least she liked his appearance.

In the parlor, he poured red wine into two glasses and handed her one. “This is from the region. If we don’t care for it, I’ve been assured there is a bottle of Bordeaux to be had.”

Caro took a sip. “This is good.” She drank half of the wine and held the glass out to him. “I’ll have a little more, please.”

His brows drew together slightly, but he did as she asked. “It must be good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink wine so quickly.”

She put a bright smile on her face. “It’s wonderful.”

Huntley looked as if he might say something, but the door opened to a waiter carrying a tureen of soup. After she’d been served, she peered at the dark broth. “Do you know what this is?”

“
Gerstensuppe
.” He took a taste. “It’s quite tasty.”

She tried some of her own. The broth was rich and full of herbs. He also fed her well. That had to count for something, she thought as she took stock of all her husband’s good points.

The soup was removed with a pasta that resembled a round ball with melted butter. Caro took a small bite. “This is delicious.”

“That is a
Knödel
,” he said. “It is sometimes also served in broth.”

She swallowed and finished another glass of wine. “How do you know so much?”

“Maufe visited the kitchens.”

Taking another mouthful, she sighed. “I shall miss the food. It has all been so wonderful.”

As he had all during this trip, Huntley helped her make selections from the dishes set out on a sideboard. Later Caro stared down at the empty plate. “This pork is wonderful, and I never thought I’d like sauerkraut, but I do.”

The thought of being with a man caused her stomach to clench in a knot. She poured another glass of wine, sure it would help.

For dessert, the chef brought a small round cake resembling a slice from a tree trunk with a hollow center. It looked delicious, but what caught Caro’s attention were several small, irregularly shaped lumps on the plate. “Chocolate drops?”

The chef explained. “We take the droppings from the cake and cover them in chocolate. Normally we don’t serve the
Baumkuchen-spitzen
to our guests. But
Herr Graf
told me how much his wife loves chocolate.”

She glanced at Huntley, trying to figure out what had changed that she now had chocolate. “You told me Maufe spoke with the chef.”

With an innocent demeanor, he replied, “Maufe did, but I decided to ask him myself.”

She smiled at him before looking at the chef. She had more than a little trouble focusing on the man but finally managed it. “It is very unusual looking. Please tell me how it is made.”

He bowed. “With pleasure, my lady. The cake is made on a spit and the small lumps are what drop from it.”

Caro sampled both the cake and the pieces, then said to Huntley, “Excellent. I know French chefs are all the crack, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like an Italian one.”

Huntley thanked the chef and wondered if Caro realized what she’d said. His wife finished the small pieces of chocolate-covered cake and poured yet another glass of wine. This was the most he’d ever seen her drink, and it was beginning to concern him. What the deuce was she up to?

After the dishes were removed, he stood and walked over to the sideboard for a glass of brandy. When he turned, Caro was in front of him, swaying a little. “Caro, are you all right?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” She glanced at his glass. “May I have one too?”

Huntley tried to hide his frown. Her eyes were over-bright and her speech a little slurred. She was fuddled. He’d wager that she had never had so much to drink before. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea, my dear. You’ve had quite a bit of wine already.”

Her brows drew together. “But I want a taste.”

Rubbing his fingers on his forehead, he tried to come up with a solution. She was already going to have a headache in the morning. “I’ll give you a sip of mine.”

Caro nodded drunkenly and tried to take his glass. Instead, he held it to her lips. “Caro, what’s all this about? Is something bothering you?”

She shook her head so vigorously that some of her curls fell from the loose knot on her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I have”—she paused and took a breath—“I have decided we should sleep together.” Closing one eye, she tilted unsteadily toward him. “Well, not sleep exactly. Why are you moving around so much?”

Sighing, he set his glass on the sideboard and took her hands, drawing her closer. “Caro, my sweet.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “When I make you mine, it will be when you want me as much as I want you, and you will
not
be in your altitudes.”

Her gaze wide, she stared up at him and wobbled again. Tomorrow was going to be a devil of a day for both of them. There were few things worse than being stuck in a coach with a bad head.

Unexpected tears suddenly filled her eyes, and she wailed, “You don’t want me.”

He stifled a groan. That was it. She was restricted to no more than two or three glasses of wine from now on. He stroked her back and nibbled her ear. “Of course I want you, my dear. God help me”—he wanted her more each day—“but I will not take you when you’re disguised.”

She poked him in the chest with one finger and, enunciating her words carefully, said, “But you need an heir, and it’s the right time.”

He decided not to ask why it was a good time. In his experience, those who imbibed overmuch never made much sense. “The heir can wait.”

Caro leaned against him, her ample breasts pressing into his chest. Huntley’s muscles clenched and an image of her lush mounds in his hands caused his groin to react. Damn, why did she have to be on the go?

“You have nice lips,” she said.

He chuckled lightly. “So do you. Very kissable lips.”

Caro threw her head back and puckered. “You may kiss them if you wish.”

Fate was getting back at him. Here he was with a wife, his wife, who possessed a thoroughly delectable mouth, and he wanted her like he’d never wanted another woman, but not when she was intoxicated. Huntley sighed. Well, he wouldn’t bed her, but no harm could come from kissing her. She probably wouldn’t remember it in any event. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

He held her chin between two fingers and bent to kiss the lips she offered. He barely touched his mouth to hers; instead, he feathered kisses along her jaw to the corner of her lips. Caro sighed and started to slide down to the floor. He placed his arm around her waist to stop the descent.

“That was a nice kiss.” She giggled. “What else can you do?”

He almost groaned. This was going to be a long night, and he’d have to end his time with Caro soon. “You might like this.”

Holding himself tightly in control, he moved one hand over her lush derrière and back up, lightly over the side of her breast. If only she’d asked him to do this when she was sober.

She shivered and sank against him. “Oh, I do.” She gave a small hiccup. “Is there anything else?”

Damn
. He wanted her so badly, this was killing him. He straightened. That was it, if he stayed any longer he was going to lose what sense he had, and there would be hell to pay in the morning. “I’m taking you to your chamber.”

Expecting an argument, he quickly swept her up into his arms before she could protest. “Hold on so you don’t fall.”

She obediently put her hands on his shoulders, but rather than fight him, Caro started to giggle again. “No one has carried me since I was a child.”

She laid her head against his shoulder and her soft breath caressed his jaw. God knew she wasn’t a child now, and he needed to get her to her room before he did something stupid. He carried her up the stairs and knocked on her door.

When Nugent saw Caro in his arms, the maid’s jaw dropped.

“Hallo, Nugent. Lord Huntley is carrying me,” Caro said brightly and with a slight slur.

“What in the name of heaven?” the maid asked.

“Foxed,” he said.

“I can’t believe it. She’s never done that before in her life. Is she able to stand?”

He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Her ladyship was none too steady on her feet before.” He waited until her dresser closed the door. “Do you need help getting her out of this gown?”

“If she is unable to stand, I will.”

“I’ll hold her up, and you unlace her.”

Nugent nodded. “Yes, that might be best.”

When he set Caro down on the floor, she tilted her head back in the same jerky movement of a puppet being inexpertly handled and pursed her lips. He shook his head. “Wait just a moment, my sweet.”

Nugent glanced briefly at the ceiling, then worked swiftly, unlacing the gown and stays. “How much did she have to drink?”

Huntley caught his wife as she teetered. “At least five glasses. But she kept refilling hers before it was empty, and the server refilled the jug, so I’m not quite sure. I’ve never seen her drink more than two before this evening.”

“No, that is her limit. Can you help me slip off these sleeves?”

There was going to be the devil to pay come morning. He held Caro up, his fingers grasping his wife’s narrow waist over the thin lawn of her chemise as Nugent unbuttoned the long sleeves. Huntley’s groin tightened and he tried to stop thinking about what it would be like to skim his hand over her lightly rounded stomach and cup the curls between her legs. This was taking forever. Finally, the bodice of Caro’s garment sagged as the maid slid the sleeves off Caro’s arms.

“There,” Nugent said. “Now, if you’ll lift her straight up, I’ll get her ladyship’s gown off her.”

Huntley did as requested and the silk fell to the floor. He finished unlacing her stays, removed them and handed them to Nugent. Caro’s soft breasts begged to be touched and every inch of his body was responding to the almost naked woman in his arms.

It seemed as if her maid was taking her damn time about retrieving Caro’s nightgown from the bed.

After an eternity, Nugent said, “I’ll throw this over her head as soon as you untie her ladyship’s chemise.”

He glanced sharply at Nugent, but she continued to wait for him. Obviously, the blasted woman had no idea of the torture he was going through. The next time he had Caro like his, he was going to bury himself inside her. He gave the shoulder ribbons a jerk and they fell away. The garment stopped, hanging on the peak of his wife’s nipples.

Caro, who’d been docilely allowing him to undress her, tossed her head back again. “Now?”

Bending his head, he kissed her lightly on the lips. “That’s enough for now. Nugent, the nightgown, please.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He’d be damned if the first time he saw his wife naked her maid would be looking on. He raised Caro’s arms and the soft linen slid over her as the chemise dropped to the floor. She tipped back against him, her body rubbing against his fully engorged member.
Bloody hell
, he cursed lewdly to himself. His whole body was clamoring for her. She slipped, and Huntley clenched his jaw as he caught her. “She’ll have a deuce of a headache in the morning. With any luck at all, she’ll be sick to-night and purge some of the wine.”

Her dresser nodded and said grimly, “She’ll be sick as a cat. What on earth could have got into her, I wonder?”

If Nugent didn’t know, he certainly wasn’t going to enlighten her. “I’ll send Maufe with his remedy.”

After putting Caro between the sheets, Huntley couldn’t help gazing at her peaceful countenance. With one finger he caressed her cheek and straightened to see Nugent’s amused face. He turned toward the door. “Good night, Nugent.”

“Good night, my lord.”

Satisfied that he’d successfully fought his desires and his now aching shaft, he retired alone to bed. He wondered what Caro’s mood would be like in the morning and hoped she wouldn’t be too embarrassed.

God in heaven, he was turning into a saint. Getting his wife sober and then into his bed had just become his first priority.

C
aro’s head throbbed and her mouth tasted as if someone had stuffed hay in it as well as manure. When she tried to sit up, a wave of nausea hit her, so she lay flat on her back and contemplated trying to open her eyes, which had not yet decided to cooperate. A low moan emanated from somewhere, and a cool, wet cloth was placed on her forehead. Someone hammered on a door. “Oh please, make them be quiet. It hurts my head.”

No one answered, but the hammering stopped. Caro finally got her eyes opened, but the room swam, making her stomach rush to her mouth again, and she closed them. She’d been perfectly fine yesterday. Why was she so sick now?

A door opened and closed again. Footsteps stomped across the wooden floor. The pain in her head got worse. Why couldn’t they all be quiet? Did they not know how unwell she was?

A brisk hand removed the cloth on her forehead. “Come, my lady, you have to try to sit up. Mr. Maufe’s made something that will make you feel better.”

Tears sprung to her eyes. “Oh, Nugent, I feel so ill. I think I’m dying.”

“Yes, my lady, that was to be expected. Fortunately, you eliminated much of it last night. Can you sit up?”

“No,” Caro sobbed, “it doesn’t feel good when I sit up.”

“My lord, I’ll need your help.”

Huntley, here? In her chamber? Why?
Oh, he cannot see me like this
. “Oh no, I don’t want him to see me so ill.”

A strong arm snaked under her and gently lifted her. “Just lean back on me,” he said, “and the room won’t spin so badly.”

She did as he said. “How did you know? Have you had this before?”

His chest was so close she could feel it rumble. “Yes, regretfully, on more than one occasion. Nugent, the glass.”

There was a rustling of skirts. Strange how she’d never before noticed how loud they were.

“Here, my love,” Huntley said. “Open your lips. I’ll hold it for you. The medicine doesn’t taste very good, but it will make you feel more the thing.”

Caro choked at the bitter taste. “Ugh.”

He took the glass away and after a few moments brought it back. “Good girl. Just a little more.”

Prying one eye open, she quickly closed it again as a bright light hit it. She turned her head away from the cup. “Do you promise it will make me better?”

“Yes. You’ll at least be able to have a piece of toast and a cup of tea before we leave.”

She turned her head back to him and opened her mouth to tell him she couldn’t go anyplace. Suddenly the vile potion slithered down her throat. Caro sputtered and tried not to sound like a whiny child. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Come, my lady,” Nugent said in a brisk tone. “We don’t have all day. I need to get you up, washed, and dressed.”

“But I am too sick to travel. You don’t understand, neither of you do.” She burst into tears.

“You won’t die,” Nugent said, “though you’re bound to feel like you will.”

Her husband’s solid arm was still holding her, and all she seemed to be able to do was rest her cheek against his warm chest and sob.

Morpheus pulled at her, and she was quite willingly following when the thick, warm coverlet was yanked off her. She tried to grab it back, but her head hurt when she moved. She cracked her lids a bit to glare at him. “No! Give it back. It’s cold.”

Huntley gazed down at her and shook his head. “We need to leave as soon as it’s light.”

She closed her eyes again. “But I can’t . . .”

“We’ve no choice. Although I am sure the Austrian envoy has di Venier in hand, I still want to be as far away as possible. You must allow Nugent to wash and dress you.”

Lifting her upright, he said, “You can open your eyes. Just don’t look at the candles.”

Caro really must be ill if she wasn’t complaining about his being here, touching her. Turning to Nugent, he raised a brow. “What can I do?”

“Have you broken your fast, my lord?” her dresser asked.

“Yes, I’m at your disposal.” He glanced down at his wife. She’d gone limp, and her breathing deepened. Damn, she’d fallen back asleep. At least she could have waited until after they’d dressed her.

Nugent shook her head. “Hold her right there if you will, and I’ll bring the wash basin over.”

Huntley did as she asked and held Caro while Nugent washed her face and gave her something to rinse her mouth with. He’d make sure she got a bath when they reached their next inn.

Nugent brought over her chemise. “Now, my lord, if you’ll unbutton her nightgown, I’ll slip this on her.”

It seemed he was destined to see his wife partially naked only when she was either foxed or suffering the effects, and in the presence of her maid. Stifling a groan, he allowed the garment to slip down over Caro’s breasts. His muscles tightened at the view of the generous, creamy mounds topped by light pink nipples. If only he could taste them, just for a bit.

Nugent went to drop the chemise over Caro’s head, which was still resting on his shoulder. She was never going to be allowed to have more than two glasses of wine again. Huntley was starting to wonder if Maufe put a sleeping powder in the concoction.

“Here, my lord, if you’ll just hold out her arms.” Nugent got Caro’s stays on her and laced them loosely. “Now for the gown.”

By the time he and Nugent were done dressing Caro, Huntley was sure Maufe was responsible for her inability to waken. He met his valet on the stairs as he carried his wife, wrapped in her cloak, down to the coach. “Maufe, did you put something in your remedy to make her ladyship sleep?”

His forehead wrinkled with concern. “Yes, my lord. I thought it better that she not suffer so much on the trip. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, yes, of course”—then Huntley had a thought—“not laudanum?”

Maufe sprang back in shock. “No, my lord! Not when she’s indulged. That would be dangerous.”

Huntley let out his breath. “I just needed to make sure. She didn’t awaken even when she was being dressed.”

Maufe nodded. “Yes, my lord. I can see how that would cause you concern.”

One of the inn’s servants jumped forward to open the door for him.

Dalle, standing at the coach, glanced at Caro, then at Huntley. “Sick?”

“In a matter of speaking,” Huntley replied drily. “Take her ladyship and hand her to me once I’m settled.”

He shifted his fair burden to her groom and jumped in the coach. He made sure the jug of tea and package of food was easy to reach before turning back to Dalle. “Hand her in.”

Huntley carefully took Caro’s recumbent form and settled her on his lap, tucking the fur rug around her. “We’re ready when you are.”

A few moments later, the coach rolled forward. His small group started off through the pass as the sun began to rise. He gazed at his wife’s peaceful countenance. She’d be much better off sleeping than fighting the effects of dipping too deep while she was awake. With one finger, he traced her perfectly arched brow and bent to kiss her forehead. She tried to snuggle in, and a faint line appeared between her brows. He shifted her to a better position, and she settled back into a deep sleep.

He tried not to think of the reason she had drunk so much. Even though he knew it wasn’t him specifically she feared, her reasoning still didn’t do anything for his pride. Women had always considered him a patient and generous lover, and he gave as much pleasure, sometimes more, than he took.

But he’d never had a woman as broken as his wife, nor had he ever wanted to heal anyone so badly. Until last night, he’d thought they were making progress, but if she’d had to drink that much to overcome her revulsion, they were not as far along as he wished. He’d have to come up with something that didn’t include spirits to reassure her.

Huntley awoke hot. A quick glance told him that the sky was gray and there was a scent of snow in the air. The air in the coach was cold, but Caro was burning up. This was not the result of last night.

He banged on the roof. “We need to find an inn. Her ladyship is worse, and it’s going to snow soon.”

His coach slowed as their other one drew up beside it. A quick discussion took place, and they were moving again. He caressed Caro’s flushed face and wished he could do more. She started to toss and turn.

Damn, they’d need a doctor, and soon. Caro continued to be restless. He removed the rug and tried to soothe her. She struck out and almost hit his chin. Huntley remembered the nursery tunes his mother would sing when any of them were sick and tried that. He had a low voice, and after a few moments Caro calmed. He held her closer, rocking her. His chest tightened, and a weight pressed on his heart. She couldn’t die. He wouldn’t allow it. Holding his lips to her temple, he prayed.

It seemed like an age before the carriage pulled into the yard of an inn. Dalle jerked open the door and held out his arms. Reluctantly, Huntley gave his wife into her groom’s keeping until he jumped down and took her again.

Nugent came scurrying up, put a hand on Caro’s head and said, Huntley thought rather unnecessarily, “Right, then. We need to get her into her chambers.”

He’d been around sick people. He could have told her that.

Nugent strode swiftly into the inn as Maufe came out and said, “My lord, we have rooms.”

Huntley bit off the retort he was about to make about stating the obvious. It wasn’t their fault a fever had come upon Caro, and he’d not take it out on his servants. “Lead the way.”

He followed Nugent up the central staircase and down a corridor to another wing. Caro’s maid glanced back over her shoulder. “Mr. Maufe procured the entire floor of this wing.”

Shifting Caro, he put his cheek against her forehead. The fever had gotten worse. “Has he sent for a doctor?”

“Yes, my lord.” A small smile cracked her grim countenance. “The innkeeper sent out a servant, and Collins went with him. Said if the doctor didn’t feel like coming straight-away, he’d help him change his mind.”

Caro jerked in his arms, and Huntley almost dropped her. Cuddling her closer, he murmured, “Easy now, we’ll make you comfortable soon.”

She screwed up her face and began to sob. “I don’t feel good.”

Ahead of him, Nugent opened a door. “We’re in for it now. I’ll not lie to you, my lord. She doesn’t often fall ill, but when she does . . .”

“You don’t have to finish. When she does, she’s a handful.” He glanced down at his charge. “For some reason, I am not surprised.”

He stepped into the chamber, and was pleased to find it not only clean but light and airy as well. A fireplace stood at one end and a large bed with velvet hangings at the other. Doors, flanked by large windows, led to a balcony.

Caro fussed, twisting and throwing out her arms, and he said, “I’ll hold her up while you untie her gown. We need to get her comfortable as quickly as possible.”

Huntley was concerned to find her shift was soaking wet. Taking it off, he placed her on the bed and covered his wife with the wrapper Nugent held out to him. “Did you order a bath?”

She glanced at the door. “Yes, it should be here soon.” She turned to him. “Do you think we should wait for the doctor?”

He glanced down at Caro and put his hand on her again as if it could tell him any more than he already knew. “No. Put her in a clean chemise. We’ll bathe her in that, in case he comes when she’s in the tub. The most important thing is to get her fever down.”

Nugent went to one of the trunks and brought out a linen shift. “I daresay it won’t matter once it’s wet, but this is a little thicker than the muslin.”

Rather than cooperating, Caro tossed and turned, but only opened her eyes once and gazed glassy eyed at Nugent. “Oh, Nugent, I don’t feel at all well.”

“That you’ve made abundantly clear, my lady. We are going to put you in a cool bath and wait for the doctor. Close your eyes.”

Huntley strode to the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I’m more appropriately dressed to lend you a hand.”

He found Maufe hovering outside the door. “Will she be all right, my lord?”

“If it is nothing more than a bad cold, we’ll nurse her through this. Though that will be enough to lay her low for several days. My fear is that it’s influenza.” Huntley started to walk down the corridor and stopped. “Where’s my chamber?”

His valet motioned him to the room next to his wife’s. “Here, my lord.”

The room appeared to connect to Caro’s. It had the same view of a garden and a church spire beyond. “Good. Get me out of these clothes and into something I can get wet.”

In a very few minutes, he used the connecting door to his wife’s room. A copper tub stood before the fire. He tested the water to make sure it was cool. Nugent stood by the bed as if guarding Caro, but stepped aside as he approached.

Huntley scooped Caro up. She was completely limp and unconscious. Wispy curls lay plastered on her forehead. He placed his lips on her temple and put her into the tub. “Come, my lady wife. Let’s try to lower your temperature.”