Desiring Lady Caro (13 page)

Once wet, the linen chemise was almost transparent. He perused her slender form. His eyes traveled over her generous breasts, then to her small waist and gentle swell of her hips. A woman’s body. His woman’s body and one the doctor was not going to see. “Get something to put over the tub.”

His need to protect Caro was growing by leaps and bounds. When had he become so possessive?

He heard Nugent rummaging through the wardrobe, and before long she returned with a sheet that she draped over the sides of the tub.

Huntley nodded approvingly. “That should do it. Please tell Maufe I’ll have luncheon here.”

“Yes, my lord.” Nugent left the room, leaving him holding Caro’s hand as he racked his brain, trying to remember everything that one did to help a patient through the influenza.

The door opened, and the swish of skirts, as well as heavy steps, intruded on his thoughts. He glanced up and then had to lower his gaze to the small, slight man carrying a black bag. “Herr Doktor.”

The man bowed. “
Ja
. I am Doktor Benner
,
and you must be Graf von Huntley.” He glanced at Caro. “And the
Gräfin
.”

The doctor set about opening his bag in an efficient manner. Huntley felt the weight fall from his shoulders. Unlike many doctors he’d had to deal with, Dr. Benner exuded competence. “Yes.”

The doctor took out a long, rather bulky instrument from his case. “First, I shall take her temperature.”

Frowning, Huntley said, “Her temperature? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Dr. Benner smiled. “It is not widely used. My father studied at the Medical School of Vienna, as did I, and he was great friends with Doktor Swieten, the founder. They found a correlation between a person’s temperature and the illness. In any event, please, if I may?”

Huntley sat on the stool beside the tub and put his hand on Caro’s shoulder. Her flushed face concerned him more than a little, and if taking her temperature would help, he’d allow it.

The doctor placed the instrument in her mouth and waited a few minutes before removing it and checking it. Nodding to himself, he touched her neck and throat. “Does she have a rash anyplace?”

“No,” Huntley responded.

The doctor nodded again. “With the symptoms she has, it appears to be influenza, but as I don’t know where you’ve come from, that is only my best guess. She is cooling, but be prepared for her temperature to go up and down. It is important that you try to keep her cool when it is up and warm when it is down.” He glanced at Huntley. “It must be kept as even as possible.”

“Yes, of course. I seem to remember there is a saline draught which can be used to help bring her temperature down.”

Nodding, Benner said, “
Ja
,
ja
. You are correct, and I have brought it with me. I shall leave you a prescription for more. When she wakes, try to have her drink weak tea, or even better, water from the springs. The landlord will know where to procure it. She may also have broth and zwieback . . . what you call toast.”

He handed Nugent several vials. “One every few hours. I will return in the morning. If you cannot keep her cool, or if she develops red spots, send for me at once.”

“Thank you, I shall.” Huntley held out his hand to the doctor.

Benner shook it and said gently, “I can tell she will be well cared for. You obviously love her very much.”

“Yes, she will.” Huntley turned from the doctor as if to look at his wife but instead blinked back the tears that stung his eyes. Did he love her? At some point he’d have to spend some time trying to discover exactly how he felt about her, but first she had to get well.

After Benner left, Nugent asked, “My lord?”

“Yes, Nugent.”

“If you’ll just hold her ladyship, I’ll tip this down her throat.”

He pulled the sheet off the tub and supported Caro’s back with his arm while Nugent opened Caro’s mouth and poured the contents of the vial into it. His wife choked and sobbed a bit, then settled down.

“She seems a little cooler,” he said.

“Well, if we don’t get her out soon,” her maid said tartly, “she is going to turn into a prune.”

Huntley removed Caro’s chemise and wrapped her in a towel. Once she was settled back in bed, he sat heavily in a chair and stared at her. The flush had faded, leaving Caro pale but no longer thrashing about in a futile attempt to find a more comfortable position.

Much later, he woke to find the moon making a path through the room. Leaning over her, he put his hand to Caro’s head. It was cool but clammy. He pulled up her nightgown and touched her stomach. Cold.
Damn
.

Huntley pulled up the thick feather filled coverlet, called a featherbed, over her, stoked up the fire, then waited. After what he thought was a half hour, the chamber had warmed, and he touched her again. She was still cold. Too cold.

Maufe was still awake when Huntley stomped into his room. “I need a night-shirt.”

“But, my lord, you don’t have one.”

“What do you mean, I don’t have a night-shirt?”

Holding his head high and sniffing, Maufe said, “You gave instructions not to purchase them again as you never wore one.”

Huntley raked a hand through his hair. “Well, do I have anything I can wear to bed other than pantaloons?”

His valet smiled and nodded. “Yes, my lord. I took the liberty of purchasing something that you may find of use.”

Maufe dove into a trunk and came up with a pair of something that looked like an undergarment of some sort.

“What is that?”

“They are to wear under your breeches or”—he looked at the garment doubtfully—“no, probably not your pantaloons. They are of wool.”

“I’ll wear them.” Huntley undressed and donned the wool under-breeches and his dressing gown before returning to Caro’s room. He put his hand on her—she was just as cold as before—he climbed under the covers with her. Drawing her to him, he tucked the featherbed tightly around them, trying to infuse her with his body heat. After a short while, the wool breeches began to itch. Easing out of the bed, he removed them and slipped back next to Caro, holding her close.

When he woke, she was warm and dry, but not hot. He kissed her softly, and she snuggled in next to him. “That’s right, my love, rest while you may. This isn’t over yet.”

The moon was still up when he turned to look at the night table. A vial of the saline draught was there along with two glasses of water. Nugent must have come in to give Caro her medicine. He was a little surprised that the maid hadn’t awakened him. It seemed Nugent, at least, had quickly gotten used to the fact that he intended to nurse his wife. He tilted Caro’s head and gave her the medicine.

Sometime later, light from the windows and his wife burning up again woke him. He reached to the night table and found another vial, but when he shifted Caro so that he could tip it down her throat, she flung herself around, almost making him drop the medicine. That he had not reckoned on. He could not hold her hands and give her the draught at the same time.

“Here, my lord,” Nugent said. “You hold her and give me the vial.”

He hadn’t even heard her enter. A slow flush rose in his neck and face, but Nugent didn’t act as if anything was unusual about his being nude and in bed with Caro. Nugent stretched her hand out and wiggled her fingers impatiently. He handed her the vial and then held Caro still.

Nugent tipped the liquid down his wife’s throat and put the empty bottle on the table. “I’ll order another bath for her and tell Mr. Maufe you’re ready to dress.”

Surprised, he stared after her until she’d left the room. One would have thought that seeing his naked chest would have given Nugent hysterics, but the woman seemed to have no nerves at all. Huntley pushed back the cover and turned Caro’s pillows for her before swinging his legs to the floor and donning his dressing gown.

Maufe came through the connecting door. “Miss Nugent says she’ll come in when you’ve left.”

Taking one last look at Caro, Huntley left the room. “Come, Maufe, I don’t want to leave her ladyship for long.”

“But, my lord, I am sure her dresser . . .”

Huntley wasn’t that tired. No one was going to take him away from her. He couldn’t keep the irritation from his tone. “She’s my wife, Maufe, and I’ll care for her. I will thank you to tell that to anyone else who plans to usurp my position as well.”

The next four days consisted of endless baths, changes of nightgowns, and sheets soiled not only by the sweating caused by the fever but also by Huntley’s attempts to get nourishment in her. Who would have thought that a slight, mostly unconscious woman could be so hard for two people to manage? The only decent sleep he’d got was when Caro wasn’t tossing and turning.

The doctor came every afternoon and proclaimed each time that she would get better. But the second day into Caro’s illness, she’d frightened Huntley to death when her fever spiked and they’d had to put snow in the bath water to bring down her temperature.

On the fifth day, he woke to find her slumbering peacefully in his arms. The fever had finally broken. Thank God. They were through the worst of it.

As it had on other mornings, his hand possessively cupped one of her breasts.

Her breathing changed. She’d awakened.

C
aro had strange dreams. She was hot, too hot, then a cooling wave washed over her and a low, soft voice comforted her. Then she was cold and shivering, but something wrapped around her, giving her warmth. When every muscle in her body hurt, a firm, hard hand soothed the aches. The presence was always with her, gently lifting her, giving her drink. Some she hadn’t liked, but the presence never got upset or yelled.

Nugent spoke to Caro, telling her, as her dresser had for most of her life, to do as she was told, and the deep voice told her she’d feel better. She did feel more the thing, and the speaker with the deep voice helped her.

She awoke tucked tightly against a hard, warm body. A hard
male body
, and his hand was on her breast. Fear shot through her, and she fought to get free.

“Shh. Caro, you’re fine. You’re better now.”

It was the same voice, Huntley’s voice. Except this time it didn’t help. Panic flooded her and she screamed, “What are you doing here? How could you? How could you take advantage of me when I was so ill?”

He jumped out of bed and assumed his dressing gown.
He was naked!
She closed her eyes.

His retort came out in an angry growl. “Take advantage of you, my lady? You honestly think I’d force myself on a sick woman?”

He attacked his hair, raking his fingers through it and faced her. Dark smudges lay beneath his eyes, and lines, deeper than before, bracketed his mouth. Huntley opened the door and called out, “Nugent, come take care of your mistress.”

When he strode out and the door to their chamber slammed shut, Caro was suddenly sure she’d never been so alone. So miserable. She burst into tears.

Nugent was at her bed in an instant, her tone as irritated as Caro had ever heard it. “What was that about?”

“Hun—Huntley was in my bed,” Caro wailed.

Nugent’s hands went to her hips. “Let me tell you something, my lady. His lordship’s been taking care of you for the past five days
and
nights. Precious little sleep he’s got, with you thrashing about and crying. I’ve been in and out of this room at all hours, making sure he had the medicine and broth to give you, and a perfect gentleman he’s been.”

Caro’s tears had stopped, and she gave a small sob. “But his hand was on—on my breast.”

Making Caro sit up, Nugent shook the pillows. “Well, I don’t see how a body can be expected to mind where their hands are while asleep. Which is what he was till you started to carry on as if someone was killing you.”

Another door slammed and heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor. “My lord,” Maufe called, “when will you be back?”

“I don’t know.”

Nugent ordered a bath be set in the other room and set about combing Caro’s hair. “My lady, you need to get control of yourself. For days, his lordship was the only one who could calm you, and now you act like this.”

Really, enough was enough. Caro hadn’t been talked to this way since she was a child. In a bid to defend herself, she retorted, “But how was I to know that? I awoke and there he was.”

“A little calm reflection would have helped, but you always were one to run off without a thought.”

Nugent helped Caro to a small room next to her chamber and into the warm tub. A faint memory of being carried to the same vessel came to her. “Has he been bathing me?”

“He has,
and
making sure the water was the right temperature.” Nugent continued her litany. “And helping change you, and feeding you. I’m sure I wouldn’t have known what to do without him taking charge as he did.”

Nugent poured water over Caro’s head and began to wash her hair. “Had the doctor over every day to check on you.” A cloth and soap landed in the water near Caro’s hand. “You wash while I rinse your hair. He made sure your bed was changed daily and had everything else cleaned.”

Caro stood and took the towel Nugent handed her.

Then the final sally came. “When he returns, I expect you to apologize for your behavior.”

“
Me
apologize?” Caro lifted her arms for a fresh nightgown, then sat on a stool near the fire where her maid dried her hair.

Nugent scowled. “That’s what I said.”

This was so unfair. Caro was the one who’d been ill. “But . . . but he was no better than I.” She tried to defend herself. “He stormed off without another word.”

“He’s a man who hasn’t had much sleep or his breakfast,” her maid retorted. “Of course he’s going to act like a surly bear.”

Bending over so her hair fell forward and the underside could dry, Caro’s rush of energy evaporated, and she was suddenly so very tired. “I just want to go back to bed.”

“You’ll eat first. I have no doubt Mr. Maufe will bring your breakfast soon.”

“Who else has seen me like this?” She motioned to her nightclothes.

Nugent sniffed. “Only his lordship, me, and Mr. Maufe.”

Maufe brought her tea, toast, a soft-boiled egg, and broth. “If you please, my lady, you’re to eat it all. His lordship’s orders.”

Caro was about to offer a scathing riposte concerning Huntley’s orders but stopped. It would only make her sound more childish and difficult than she already appeared. “Thank you, Maufe. I shall do my best.” Then, even though really she didn’t want to know, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Where did his lordship go?”

“Out for a walk, my lady. It is his habit when he’s in a tiff.”

Taking a large breath, she asked, “Would you please have him come to me when he returns?”

Maufe smiled kindly. “Yes, my lady.”

Nugent nodded approvingly.

Caro finished her meal, and her maid helped her back into bed, but she couldn’t find a comfortable position. Something was missing, and she was afraid to discover what that something was.

When Huntley returned, Caro was in bed, dozing fitfully.

She glanced up as he entered the chamber. Her lips trembled. “My lord.”

Still suffering from being ill-used, he bowed stiffly. “My lady.”

Her face fell and tears filled her eyes.

That was all it took. He should have known she was still not well. How brainless he’d been to leave like that. In a moment, he was holding her. “Caro, I’m sorry I stormed off. I should have known my being there would be a shock for you.”

“No, no,” she sobbed. “I’m the one who should have thought.” She raised her wonderful turquoise gaze to his, eyes bright with the shimmer of tears. “Can you forgive me?”

“Yes, if you forgive me.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and mopped her cheeks with his handkerchief. She was so beautiful and vulnerable. Although he’d felt reduced to the status of a six-year-old at the time, he was glad now that Nugent had spoken to him, making him realize that Caro was still ill.

“Will you come lie down with me and try to sleep?” She blushed a deep rose. “I—I’ve discovered there is something missing when I’m alone.”

When she’d been unconscious, he’d not been embarrassed about sleeping naked with her. But now . . . “I don’t own a nightshirt.”

“Oh, so that’s the reason you were in”—she lowered her eyes—“in a state of nature this morning.”

Strangely, warmth flooded his face. “Yes. Since you’re now awake, I shall wear my dressing gown.”

“No, if I did not mind before, I should not care now, and I’m so very tired.”

“I’ll be right back.” He left the room and as soon as he could, returned dressed in his banyan. Caro was asleep but tossing. Huntley climbed in next to her and wrapped her in his arms. “Sleep now, my love.”

Yet did he actually love her? Did it matter if the tenderness he held for her was love? Yes, it would matter to her, and he needed to know as well.

A couple of days later, Caro stared up at Huntley as he stood next to the bed and gazed down at her. He’d continued to sleep with her. In fact, he was almost never away from her side, yet he never tried to take what was his right as her husband. She should be glad about that. She’d never wanted a man to touch her again, but she didn’t want Huntley to leave, and if he did not find himself physically drawn to her, he would.

He put his hand on her forehead and cheeks. “What is it? Aren’t you feeling well?”

She shook her head. “I am fine, just a little weak.” She had to know the truth. “I have a question I must ask.”

He sat on the bed next to her. “What is it?”

Suddenly, this was not so easy. She twisted the sheet in her hands. “Oh, I feel so foolish, but I need to know. Are you not interested in me in an amorous way?”

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. “On the contrary, my wife, I’m very interested in you.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You may not remember when I said this before, but when we make love, it will be when you are ready. Not when you’re ill or have to get foxed to do it.”

Foxed?
Other than her determination to give him an heir, Caro didn’t have much memory of that night, though she did remember thinking wine would help. “Was I very drunk?”

He widened his eyes but smiled. “Extremely. Maufe made you his special remedy and put a sleeping powder in it. I didn’t realize you were ill until you were burning up.”

He stood and removed his jacket and boots before lying down with her and taking her in his arms.

She wondered briefly how she’d gone from detesting a man’s touch to needing just this, him holding her. “I wanted to give you an heir.”

Huntley didn’t laugh, but his eyes were alight with humor. “Yes, well, it usually takes more than once. Unless one doesn’t wish it to happen, then it takes no time at all.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on his warmth. “Did you hold me like this when I was ill?”

“All the time.”

“Huntley, you may remove your clothing, if you like.”

“I will, when you’re asleep.”

“No, you can do it now.” Part of her screamed in protest, but another part wanted to feel his body next to hers.

The bed moved as his weight lifted from it. Caro turned and peeped through her lashes. Her husband’s back was to her. His shirt was off and muscles flexed in his back and arms as he removed his pantaloons and stockings. She opened her eyes wider and was gazing at him when he turned. Chestnut brown curls, the same color as his hair, covered his broad chest. Now she understood why he always seemed so strong.

She’d never seen such muscles. He was beautiful. She allowed her gaze to wander down. His body made a
V
from his chest down to a narrow waist and flat stomach. He didn’t look much different from the statues. He held the pantaloons in front of him before dropping them and quickly climbing into bed.

“Am I the first man you’ve seen naked?”

“The first live one. I’ve seen a great many marbles.”

Tucking her in next to him, with his arm around her, he glanced down. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Yes.” She was amazed at her response to him. She’d get used to it much more easily than she’d previously thought. “I have some questions.”

His head nuzzled hers. “Sleep first. You need to finish recovering.”

“For what?”

“For traveling,” he said. “We’re not even in Innsbruck yet.”

Hours later, clinking china woke her. She was surprised to find her head and one hand on Huntley’s chest. Her first thought was how improper being with him was. Then she remembered she was married, and, for reasons she did not yet understand, she’d asked him to join her in bed. It was like having two people in her head: one who wanted the warmth and comfort of Huntley’s body, and the other who wanted to run as far as possible away from him. Right now, comfort was winning the battle.

One of his hands held her buttocks, anchoring her securely against him. His slow, steady breathing whistled in a soft snore. The hand felt—well—how did she feel about the hand? It was warm and oddly comforting. But why was it there? Was it convenient because her bottom stuck out and thus made a good handhold? Or was it because he had long arms, and it was more comfortable than resting his hand on her waist? He stirred and the hand tightened a little and drew her closer. Ah, definitely a handhold.

She glanced back at Huntley’s face.

His eyes were open and staring at her. “How are you?”

“I’m much better, thank you.” While she’d been trying to watch his hand on her bottom, she’d twisted the rest of her body around so that she was half lying on top of him. “This cannot be comfortable for you. I can move.”

“No, stay,” he replied. “I like having you here.”

Huntley’s reply only added to her confusion. What did she want? “If you are sure.”

His eyes twinkled gently. “I’m very sure.” He found the opening in the bed hangings, which had been closed, and peered through. “Someone’s setting up whatever meal it is.”

Grabbing his dressing gown, he removed his hand from her posterior without apparently even noting it had been there.