To Win His Wayward Wife (20 page)

Chapter 21

Madison’s heart almost beat out of her chest as she tried to get Benjamin out of his clothes. “Would you just cooperate,” she said testily

He appeared rather irritated. “Well, excuse me,” he said sarcastically. “If I had known I was going to be shot at by your lovesick suitor today, I would have bothered to dress accordingly.”

“Next time, see that you do,” she countered sweetly, sliding his coat off his injured arm.

He shook his head and undid his cravat. “What was that window doing open?” he asked, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” she said hesitantly. “I needed some air and decided to open the window.”

“No more open windows,” he grumbled.

She went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. “I said I was sorry. I didn’t think there was any harm in it.”

“It’s not your fault,” he muttered. “I just can’t believe he found us.”

“You don’t know that it was him,” she pointed out, pulling his shirt off and sucking in her breath at the sight of his wound.

He looked doubtful. “Who else would it be?”

She shrugged. “Andrew, Papa, Paul, just about anyone in England has a grudge against you,” she said with smirk.

“It was him,” he said flatly.

“How can that be?” she asked, grinning. “You said yourself this place was secreted off. And, if by some chance, he got the direction, you seem to think him too dull to be able to use a map or any other navigational tool to find this top secret place. So how do you propose he found us? Stuck his nose to the ground and sniffed?”

“That’s enough of your insolence, woman,” he said in mock irritation. “I’m really not sure how he did it. But I know it was him.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because he missed,” Benjamin teased.

Madison blinked at him. “You cannot tell me that you hit dead on every time you aim.”

“Always,” he said with a smile.

She bent her head closer to his wound, not that she really needed to, it was as big as Brooklyn. “I hope you have a lot of brandy available,” she said with a wobbly smile.

“Fresh out,” he mumbled. “Is it that bad?”

She nodded. “The ball didn’t come out.”

He swore.

She swore.

They grinned at each other. There was nothing like bonding with your spouse through swear words.

“All right. Since I’ve no alcohol, there’s no reason for either of us to leave the room. You’re not squeamish are you?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve volunteered in one hospital or another since I was fifteen. Your paltry wound is nothing.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

She pushed him back on the bed and started ripping his shirt into strips. She took one of the strips and folded it several times and pressed it to the wound. “Here, hold this.” She brought his other hand up to hold the linen against his shoulder. “Keep pressure on it. I’ll be right back. I need to go look for something to dig that ball out with.”

He quickly sat up on the bed. “Do not leave this room,” he barked.

She shot him an annoyed look. “What?”

“I said you may not leave. I don’t want you out of my sight. For all we know he could be stalking about waiting for another opportunity. I want you to stay in my sight.” His words were starting to slur together as dark red blood soaked through the cloth and trailed down his arm, leaving a nasty stain on the counterpane.

“Fine,” she said, shaking her head in exacerbation. “Lay back down. I’ll just use your knife. But if you get an infection and die, you may not blame me.”

“I won’t,” he said with a weak smile. “I’ll be dead.”

She rolled her eyes at his asinine comment and grabbed the water pitcher and basin from off the vanity. She brought the two items over and put them on the table next to the bed. “Where is your knife?”

“In my pocket.”

She picked up his coat and checked his pockets. There were all sorts of things from keys to coins to matches, but no knife. “Not here,” she called, putting his coat back down.

“In my trousers,” he said with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Of course it is,” she said, shaking her head. “Any opportunity you can find for me to touch you.”

“You know it,” he returned.

She dug out into his pocket and pulled out his knife. “All right. I’m going to put some cold water on your shoulder, then dig out the ball.”

He nodded. His skin had gone quite pale and he truly didn’t look so good.

Perhaps he should have considered the proximity of the nearest doctor before he brought her here, she thought cheekily, pressing a cool, wet linen to his wound. Once the blood around it was wiped away enough to see where she was digging, she pulled the blade from his knife and stuck the point into his wound to try and fish out the ball.

Ideally she would have preferred forceps, or even needle-nose pliers, to get this out, but since His Bossy Grace wouldn’t let her leave the room, she had to make do.

Angling the knife blade just so, she was able to slip it under the ball, which fortunately was lodged in muscle and not bone. Using slow movements, she carefully brought the ball up enough to be able to reach it with the tips of her fingers. Even though it wasn’t normal hospital procedure to dig ones fingers into a wound without at least rinsing them off first, she just shrugged and plucked the ball out of his wound, grimacing when she heard the squelching sound it made as it emerged from his body.

She put the ball down on the table so she could clean it later and give it to him as a souvenir like she did for the few men in Brooklyn she’d helped treat for gunshot wounds. Truly, it was absolutely amazing what men wanted to keep. If it were a woman, she’d just be glad she was still alive. But not a man. Men liked to admire the nasty scar and wanted to carry the bullet that injured them in their pocket to show everyone. Go figure.

Cleaning his wound with another wet cloth, she looked around for something she could use as a bandage. Aside from wrapping clean strips of his shirt around it, there wasn’t anything. That would have to do, she decided right before her eyes landed on her reticule. She had a needle and several spools of thread in there. It was just skin. It couldn’t possibly be any more difficult than sewing silk.

Quickly, she ran across the room and grabbed her reticule. Dumping the contents on the bed, she smiled. Who knew they were both walking emporiums? Selecting the black thread, she went back up to his side. She pulled the needle out of the end of the spool where she kept it, and willing her hands to stay calm, she threaded the needle. At the hospital, the extent of her experience had been cleaning and dressing wounds, never sewing. But she’d seen it enough to have a good idea what she was doing.

It didn’t take more than just a couple passes with the needle to get him closed up. She realized he probably didn’t even need to be stitched, but she wanted to do it for him anyway. For some reason it felt good to just be near him and help him, even if he had abducted her in her sleep.

Wrapping his shoulder in clean strips of linen, she heard him mumbling some incoherent words. Something about strangling Robbie and not saying something derogatory about someone else. She smiled. He may be somewhat unconscious and mumbling nonsense from his considerable loss of blood, but at least he was still alive. She brought her fingers to his neck and felt his pulse. It was there. Weak, but there.

Without thought, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“That didn’t count” he mumbled, startling her.

“What do you mean?” she asked quietly so not to wake him if he was just dreaming.

“That kiss. You still owe me one. That one didn’t count.”

She laughed. “All right.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Madison, about earlier—”

She pressed a finger to his lips to stop him. “Don’t tax yourself. We’ll talk later.”

Weakly, he reached up and took her fingers from his lips. “No,” he said, barely able to shake his head. “I want to explain.”

Embarrassment flooded her. She shouldn’t have acted like a lunatic when she’d seen that chest. She should have just tossed it into the empty fireplace and lit a match. Instead, she’d gone into hysterics like a little girl and embarrassed herself. “Please don’t,” she whispered. “I know you said you know Leo. But please don’t tell him anything. It was a long time ago and I don’t want to relive the past.”

He closed his eyes. “What if you were wrong? What if he hadn’t said those things? Would it matter?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not one whit. I’m yours now.”

He nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll leave the past alone. But please save the pictures for me.”

“Why?” she asked, flabbergasted. Why would he want pictures she’d drawn of another man. Especially one she’d thought herself in love with.

He opened his eyes and looked at her with a very serious expression. “Because you drew them.”

Chapter 22

Benjamin’s last rational thought before slipping into a deep sleep was about Madison and if she’d heed his advice and stay put. Under any other circumstances he’d physically make sure she didn’t leave the room. However, his extreme amount of blood loss made it difficult to control the little slip of the woman he called a wife. She might be small, but she was mighty, he thought while falling deeper into a dreamless state.

Using all the energy he could possibly muster, he tried his hardest to pry one eyelid open just to glimpse her one more time to make sure she was still sitting in the chair he’d made her put in the hidden corner of the room. It was the only place that Robbie couldn’t possibly put a bullet unless he was directly in the room. He doubted Robbie would be bold enough to make another attempt to shoot him today. Knowing that weasel, he’d probably shat his drawers when the gun fired and he realized he was still alive. And then he probably did it again when he realized so was Benjamin.

After Madison had bandaged his shoulder, one of his few servants that worked here came in and Benjamin directed him to secure the house and stay close in the unlikely event Robbie dared come back again today. If not for his weakness from the loss of blood, he’d have gone out and run Robbie down and torn him apart with his bare hands. But he never did like to enter into a fight he didn’t think he’d win; and just now, he didn’t think he’d win against that twerp. It was a sad day when one had to admit that a man no thicker than a broomstick with all the starch of a cooked noodle could best him in a fight. Quite frankly though, Benjamin was a realist and at this moment, that was the reality of the situation.

Tomorrow was a different story, however.

Tomorrow, he’d hunt him down and in less than a minute the world would have one less pest polluting the air.

Thoughts ceased and time evaporated. Only blackness surrounded him. He heard noises and voices around him, but didn’t know who they belonged to or what they were saying. He felt gentle fingers touching his body. He felt a cool cloth come to rest on his forehead. He felt his arm being moved and the pressure around his wound easing. He heard murmurs he didn’t understand. He felt a hand come to rest on his chin and a bottle touch his lips. He felt the bottle move from his lips and the hand on his chin pull away. He felt fire being poured on his shoulder.

His eyes snapped open. “What the hell is going on?” he shouted, using his free hand to bat away the hand that was pouring liquid fire on his shoulder.

“Sorry, Your Grace,” a grey haired man with a Welch accent said.

Benjamin’s eyes shifted to Madison. She looked very serious. Too serious. “Madison, what’s wrong?” he asked raggedly. She did not look good.

“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” she said softly. “Your wound is infected.”

“Infected?” How could that be, it had only been a few hours? How were there already signs of infection?

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I knew that knife wasn’t clean.”

Benjamin shook his head. “Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “It’ll be all right. It’s not your fault.”

She picked up a bulb filled with water or some other clear fluid and squeezed it, flushing out his wound. “The doctor says it was a mild infection and you should be well in a day or two.”

“A day or two,” he repeated, nodding. “And dare I ask how many days it has been already?”

Madison cleared her throat and handed the doctor some cotton. “Do you want the truth?”

He closed his eyes. “That long?”

“Three days,” she said hesitantly.

He groaned. He’d lost Robbie’s trail for sure if three days had passed.

“You don’t even know it was him,” Madison said calmly. “I was thinking about it. Isn’t it possible it could have been a hunter? We are surrounded by forest. And I daresay, forests seem to have plenty of animals lurking about, just waiting to be shot.”

“It’s possible,” he conceded. “But not probable.”

She sighed. “Why are you so sure it was him?”

“Because if it had been anyone else, they would have had enough foresight to take a shot when I was more vulnerable and not in a second story room they couldn’t see inside of,” he countered.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I guess you’re right.”

 He smiled. There was no guessing about it. He was right and she knew it. “However, I still wonder how he found us,” he mused.

“Well, what he lacks in sense, he makes up for in cents,” she said, giggling at her own pun.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you,” he teased with a grin. Good thing he’d been to America before or he wouldn’t have gotten it. “But, I admit, you make a good point,” he continued. “Coins slipped into the right palm can get a man far.”

“And Robbie has access to more than most,” Madison added. “His father runs a bank and Robbie is the vice president.”

The doctor got up and mumbled something to Madison about taking care of his shoulder so it didn’t get infected again and quoted her some exuberant price for his fee for coming out to the middle of nowhere to attend him.

Madison dug in his coat pockets and paid the doctor the small fortune he’d quoted.

“Unless he came over here with bars of gold or bags of money, all the money at his father's bank won’t do him much good,” Benjamin told her as she walked back to his bedside. “He can go into every bank in London and say he’s the vice president of a bank in America until he’s blue in the face and they still won’t give him one pound without him exchanging dollars, or more preferably, gold. And he’d have to have a hefty sum if he were able to fund an investigation that would have led him here so quickly.”

Madison came to sit by his side, making him ache to take her into his arms and hold her close. “Does any of this matter?”

“Yes,” he burst out. “The man clearly wants you back. He’s not going to stop now. Once he realizes I’m still alive, he’ll just try again.”

“I think you’re giving him too much credit.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just being careful, Madison. He’s determined to have you.”

“I don’t know why,” she said with a sigh. “He didn’t seem to want me too badly before.”

“Yes, he did,” Benjamin muttered. The man had obviously wanted her bad enough to make up lies about him in order to win her affections back, he thought bitterly. He wished he could tell her that, but she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to leave the past in the past and perhaps it was better that way. He’d won her once. He’d just have to do it again. It would just take more effort this time.

She said something he missed due to his pondering.

“All right,” he said, pulling himself up to sit against the headboard. “First thing, why exactly am I naked?”

Madison blushed a bright shade of red. “Sorry, I…uh…I had to take you clothes off to take care of you,” she stammered uneasily.

He smiled. “Madam, while I appreciate your concern for my health and wellbeing, I just hope you controlled your urges and didn’t ravish me when I was in such a defenseless state. I do have my virtue to protect, after all,” he teased before dodging the pillow she swung at his head.

“You’re terrible,” she said laughingly.

“I know,” he agreed, setting his hand on hers. “Thank you for staying and taking care of me. I appreciate it.” His voice was uneven and full of emotion.

“You’re welcome,” she said quickly. “Second?” she prompted.

“Right,” he clipped, arranging the covers around his waist. “We need to figure out how he knew to come here.”

“Couldn’t he have just followed us?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “First, that would mean he was at Rockhurst, which he wasn’t. I know that because the carrier that delivered your note generally works in London. If Robbie was near Rockhurst he would have used a messenger from Bath.”

“Could the messenger have followed us?”

Benjamin twisted his lips as he contemplated that. “Not likely, but possible, I suppose. But remember we left suddenly. Too suddenly for his benefit. There was no time for him to ferret out information from any of my servants before we left.”

“Because they didn’t know we’d be leaving,” she finished for him. “But what I actually meant was could the messenger or whoever have literally followed us?”

“I know what you meant. And you’re right, that would be the only way possible,” he agreed. “However, unlike you, who could sleep through a stampede, I cannot. If they’d been following us, I would have heard them.”

“Not necessarily,” she countered. “They could have stayed far enough back you didn’t hear them.”

“Not at night,” he said, turning her hand over and slipping his fingers in between hers. “At night the visibility is so limited, they’d not drift back that far. Not without the risk of losing us anyway. Especially since we passed through Bath. There are several turn offs in Bath that lead in all different directions. He’d have had to stay fairly close to see which way we went. Anyway, that’s all assuming he followed us. Which also doesn’t seem likely because he’d have had to have been staying at Rockhurst to know we’d departed. Even Brooke and Andrew didn’t know.”

“So what you’re saying is if he knew we’d left it was only because he’d been staying on the property close to the gamekeeper’s cabin and heard us depart,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “Exactly. So there’s no way he could have followed us.”

“We’re back to figuring out who Robbie bribed, then,” she said with a shrug.

“Which leads us nowhere, unfortunately,” Benjamin said sourly. “And as you pointed out earlier it really doesn’t matter. The fact is, he’s here now and I’ll have to find a way to smoke him out of his hiding place.”

She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes to look at the ceiling. “If I was right and it doesn’t matter how he got here, then why did we just have to discuss how he got here?”

“Because I wanted a reason to talk to you,” he said simply with a hint of a smile. “I know you it’s not the most romantic conversation we’ve ever had. But you’re my wife and I like talking to you. I like hearing your ideas.”

“You seem to find a way to reject them all,” she retorted playfully.

He moved his good shoulder up in a lopsided shrug. “Can’t help that. Put the pillow down, Madison! All right, all right, you were right about the only way he could have followed us was if he’d done it in a literal sense. And I even acknowledged it. Now put that pillow down before you swing it at me too much and the feathers fly out. I rather like my pillows fluffy.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Are you certain it was even him?” she asked again, tossing the pillow on the bed.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “And if it’s not, then it’s someone he hired to do the job for him.”

She swallowed and nodded. “What do we do now?”

He grinned. “I’ll just wait for him to strike again. In the meantime, you keep fussing over me until I’m better.”

“Who knew the Dangerous Duke would want a woman to fuss over him,” she said laughingly.

“Not just any woman,” he said genuinely. “Only you. Always you.” He leaned forward and pressed a tender but chaste kiss to her lips.

***

It didn’t take long for Robbie to strike again. Only about five minutes from the end of their romantic moment to be exact. And since the man lacked the sense God gave a flea and had less than an ink drop of creativity, he tried the same tactic again. Except this time, the window was closed and the ball shattered the glass before flying over their heads and straight into the wardrobe.

“That does it,” Benjamin said irritably, ripping off the blankets and jumping out of bed. He ran to the door and almost had it yanked open when Madison gave a delicate cough.

“I believe you’re missing something,” she said, humor filling her eyes.

He looked down and saw he was indeed missing something. “Why is it the first time I’m naked in the presence of both you and a bed I have to go chase your deranged, lovesick suitor?” he grumbled, trying to pull his trousers on.

“Don’t worry,” she said lightly, finding him a shirt. “You’ll be naked in a bed with me again.”

His eyes flew to hers and a grin took his lips. “And when will this be?”

“When you’re about fifty and time for you to sire an heir is running out,” she teased.

He shook his head. “It better be before then or I’ll go mad.”

She laughed and swatted him playfully on his good shoulder. “Are you sure you have to go?” Her voice had taken on a serious, strained note.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“But you’re not well. You just woke up no more than an hour ago. Your right arm is virtually useless,” she argued.

“Madison,” he leaned down to tie his boots the best he could with one hand, “I’m not going to wait for him to strike again. He may not be a good aim, but eventually he’ll hit something besides my shoulder and a wardrobe. And if it’s you,” his voice broke and he swallowed. “I’d never be able to live with myself if that happened.”

“But he’s already long gone,” she argued. “It’s been at least two minutes since that shot. He may not be very bright, but he’s not going to wait outside for you to come find him. He’s probably run off, see—”

“Madison!” Benjamin yelled, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her across the room. “Do not go near that window again. Now, listen to me. I want you to follow me down the hallway. There’s a room just a few doors over that I want you to stay in. I think you’ll be safer there than you are here. Promise me you’ll stay there. Promise me.”

“Oh, all right,” she said with a sigh.

Grabbing a handful of lead balls and his flintlock rifle from behind the wardrobe, he shooed Madison out of the room and led her down the hall.

“What are you planning to do with that?” she asked, her eyes becoming as large as tea saucers.

“Just some light hunting,” he said with a slim smile.

“Do you need such a large gun?” she asked, eyeing the gun in a way that resembled someone looking at a bug that dared crawl on the table during dinner.

He nodded his head once. “Yes. I want to make sure I get him. This will shoot far enough that I can be back a few hundred yards and still get him.”

“Oh. Do you think his is as big as yours?”