Pleasure Me (32 page)

A door slammed nearby, and with an awkward stagger, he turned around to see a small phaeton waiting for the man striding down the steps of a town house. The man seemed familiar. Garrick took a step forward only to fall to his knees. Defeat pounded against him as he tried to crawl forward. His throat swollen and aching, he tried to cry out for help but failed.

“I say there, are you all right?”

The man’s voice was one he’d heard before, but he couldn’t remember where. He shook his head at the question, the movement dragging a groan of pain from him. Although he could barely lift his head, he managed to look up at the man bending over him. Worthington.

“
Good God
. Stratfield. What the devil . . . Johnson, get down here
now
.” With a gentle hand, the younger man touched his shoulder. “Where are you hurt?”

The question made him laugh, but the sound he made was anything but. His mouth swollen on one side, all that came out was a grunt. When the driver reached them, Worthington gave the older man directions and together they lifted Garrick to his feet. Another groan rolled up into his burning throat, and Worthington muttered an expletive.

“Sorry, old man. You’ve a new bird, haven’t you? The Lady Ruth?”

“Yes.” It was a mangled response.

“Johnson, it’s just a few houses down. We’ll take him there.” Worthington bowed his head toward him. “This is not likely to be pleasant, Stratfield, given your condition.”

He could only groan as the two men half lifted, half carried him toward Ruth’s town house. In the back of his head, he heard a voice calling a warning to him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was saying. Instead, he felt himself sagging between the two men as he slipped back into the darkness again.

When he next rose up into consciousness, it was to the sounds of exclamations and the sweet music of Ruth’s voice. He tried to lift his head, but found it difficult to do so. There was the sudden sensation of being weightless as several hands carried him up the steps to Ruth’s bedroom. Another groan escaped his lips as he was placed on a soft mattress. A cool hand caressed his head, and he opened his eyes to see Ruth bending over him. Fear darkened her eyes, and as terrible as he felt, his spirits lifted slightly. She was afraid for him. He tried to smile at her reassuringly. All he managed was a grimace before he lost consciousness.

Uncertain how much time had passed, he awoke to the sound of quiet voices nearby. He licked his dry lips and tried to clear his throat to ask for water. In seconds, Ruth was at his side. Despite the pain he was in, the first thing he noted was how beautiful she looked. He’d thought he’d never see her again. Her arm gently slid under his shoulders so she could cradle him against her as she offered him a sip of water. After three sips, she pulled the cup from him. In protest, he stretched out his hand for the cup, but she moved it out of his reach.

“Just a little now, my darling. Too much might make you sick.” The soothing sound of her voice stroked his senses and he tried to nod as he closed his eyes again. A feathery kiss brushed against his brow just before he drifted back into an unconscious state.

He was cold. The sheets shifted around him as he rolled over. The action turned the dull throbbing in his body into a sharp stabbing pain that jerked him fully awake. Christ Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? He opened his eyes and frowned at the drapes covering his windows. Who the devil had changed the curtains? Slowly the room came into clearer focus, and he realized he wasn’t at home. He was in Ruth’s bedroom. In her bed.

He shot upright, and the minute he did so, a sharp pain made his stomach lurch as it tugged a low cry past his lips. Why the devil did he hurt so—the alleyway. Anger blasted through him as he remembered the two men who’d attacked him. The minute he was able, he’d send for Blackstone and have him find the sons of bitches who’d done this to him.

Damnation, his throat hurt as though he’d been sick, but he was certain it was from the beefy fingers of the attacker who’d throttled him. Gingerly, he bent his head and lifted his arm as high as possible to examine the bruises on his side. Bloody hell, almost every inch of him hurt, some places more than others. Moving quickly would be difficult at best.

His jaw was sore, and he brushed his fingers lightly over the side of his face that was the most painful. The touch wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t quite as tender as he’d expected given the battering he remembered. Probably the worst pain of all was his leg. It ached down to the bone itself. Something told him a cane might be necessary for a while.

The sound of the door opening made him jerk his head up to see Ruth walk into the room. Dressed in a blue day dress, she looked tempting enough to eat. God, and to think he might never have seen her again. The sight of her stirred his cock for a few seconds before he went flaccid and a slow, nauseating horror rolled over him.

He was naked. Someone other than his uncle now knew he was half a man. Was it her? Did she know the truth? Bile rose in his throat at the thought, and his body grew rigid with tension, which only intensified the pain gripping every part of him.

“You’re awake.”

Delight enhanced the excitement in her voice, but all he could think about was the need to know who knew his secret. He watched her move quickly to set down the tray she carried before she hurried toward the bed. He winced as she sank down onto the mattress beside him to reach for his hand. Tenderly, she carried his hand to her mouth to kiss his scraped knuckles then turned it over to kiss the inside of his palm.

“Do you feel up to eating some broth?”

“No,” he said hoarsely.

He shook his head sluggishly as he glanced down to study her hand holding his. Despite the fear holding him hostage, a small part of him welcomed the warmth of her touch. It indicated an affection for him that almost eased his fears, but his terror was stronger. He tugged his hand out of hers with a grimace as the movement affected the rest of his body.

“Who . . .” he rasped and looked away from her. Christ Jesus, he couldn’t even ask the question.

“I did.” Her quiet response made him jerk his head toward her.

“You what?” He knew what she was referring to, but he didn’t want to believe it.

“I undressed you,” she said gently. “There was little choice, we needed to see the extent of your injuries. I knew you wouldn’t want anyone to see you, so I’m the
only
one who . . . who knows.”

Her words battered their way through him with the same ruthless power as the beating he’d taken last night. Worse, she’d stumbled over her explanation. A strong indicator of her revulsion.

The violent oaths built slowly in his mind until the last instance of the word was a roar of fury resounding in his head. She’d seen him. She knew his secret. Humiliation swept its way through him. Christ Jesus, what was he supposed to do now? If she told someone, he’d be the laughingstock of the Set.

Worse, he’d be an object of pity for others. The sudden urge to run latched onto his limbs, and he glanced around the room for his clothing. Out. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find a quiet place to think.

“Where are my clothes?” The rough edge of his voice made her flinch, but he didn’t care. He had to leave. He couldn’t stay here knowing she knew the truth.

“They’re in the wardrobe, but you’re not well enough to get out of bed, let alone dress.”

“
My clothes
, Lady Ruth,” he ground out. The flash of pain that flitted across her face was easy to ignore when the panic inside him refused to subside.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “You’re far too weak to go gallivanting about town.”

“I’ll be the judge of how strong I am.
Bring
me my clothes.”

“Get them yourself.”

The words were sharp with exasperation, and the noisy rustle of her skirts emphasized her outrage as she stood up. Her mouth tight with anger, she took several steps back from the bed and waited for him to move. He glared at her then started to scoot his way to the edge of the bed, taking care to keep the sheet close to his waist. Even though she knew about his defect, the idea of exposing himself to her was unthinkable.

His efforts to reach the side of the bed pulled a hiss of pain from him, and he stopped to take in a breath.
Bloody hell.
What part of him didn’t hurt? He inched forward again, and the grunt he made pulled a small noise of dismay from Ruth. Damn it, the last thing he wanted was her pity. But he didn’t have much choice about getting out of bed. She was right. He didn’t have the strength to leave.

The realization made him sag back into the feather bedding. He wasn’t used to being so helpless, and he’d never had need of a physician’s care before. He stiffened.
We.
She’d said “we had no choice.” Christ almighty, she had to have sent for a doctor. She
wasn’t
the only one who knew the truth. Horrified, he clenched his jaw only to have it shoot pain up into his head, but it didn’t stop him from pushing himself up into a sitting position once more.

“You said
we
,” he rasped.

“I had Simmons examine you. He served in the army as a medical corpsman.” Her tone was calm and serene, but her irritation remained just below the surface. “He’s quite skilled, and I trusted his judgment that you were in no serious danger.”

A servant. She’d allowed a servant to examine him. His gut twisted violently at this newest revelation. Servants were notorious for gossip. It was like spoon-feeding the Marlborough Set. One servant whispered a juicy piece of information into the ear of a servant from another household and suddenly something private was public fodder.

“You allowed a servant—”

“I was with Simmons the entire time. And even though I trust him implicitly, I know for a fact that his examination did not uncover your secret.” She returned to the bed to straighten the pillows behind him. God help her if she was lying to him.

“Leave me be, Ruth.” His throat hurt, and their conversation only exacerbated his pain.

Each new revelation she offered up added to his misery. And the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was think about how his life would change—had changed, and not for the better. Exhausted, he closed his eyes.

“Oh, so it’s not
Lady Ruth
anymore,” she muttered. He grimaced as she jabbed a pillow behind him. “I ought to crown you for being so stubborn and trying to get out of bed.”

“Christ Jesus, leave me
alone
.”

His vicious growl sounded as sharp as his throat felt, and he opened his eyes to see her jerk back from him as if bitten. He half expected her to flee the room, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood there looking down at him for a long moment before she shook her head.

“I’ll do no such thing.” Her firm manner reflected the remnants of her irritation. “You need me, and I understand some of what you must be feeling.”

“How in the hell could you possibly understand?” he snarled, and as her gaze met his, she sighed softly.

“You’re not the first man I’ve seen with only one ballock, Garrick.”

The quiet confession caught him off guard, and he stared at her in stupefaction. He shook his head in denial. She had to be lying. To what end, he had no idea, but she couldn’t be telling him the truth. Violet eyes flashing with anger, she stiffened.

“I am not in the habit of lying, and while I
never
reveal the secrets of any man I’ve been with, I can assure you that your physical condition is one I’ve seen before.”

At a loss for words, he looked away from her. Was it really possible one of her other lovers had the same physical flaw as him? Was she telling the truth? He could think of no reason not to believe her. And he wanted to believe—trust her to keep his secret as she’d kept the secrets of other men. She sank down on the mattress beside him, and he breathed in the scent of her. It soothed him, despite the horror still holding him rigid. Her fingers lightly touched the back of his hand, but he refused to look at her.

“Whatever your uncle told you about your condition, he was wrong.” She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed his hand.

“I believe you are an exception in this particular matter,” he muttered with a grimace.

“I highly doubt that,” she said with conviction. “I cannot believe that any woman would find you repulsive.”

“Then you would be wrong.” He turned his head and eyed her coldly. “I was seventeen when I learned just how revolting I was to women.”

“All women or just one?” The soothing quiet of her voice made him close his eyes. The woman was far too skilled at convincing a man to open up his soul.

“It wasn’t necessary to expose myself more than once.” He shook his head. “The event persuaded me that every woman would have the same reaction Bertha did.”