Vexing the Viscount (13 page)

She jumped back out of her chair, covered her mouth with her hand, and stared at the man who had been having an erotic dream about her.

Her!

 

Braden slowly opened his eyes and then shut them quickly. The light from the candle burned like the sun beaming into the room in July. What time was it? And why did he feel like he'd overindulged the night before? He tried to think back to last night, but nothing came to him.

Something didn't feel right. His head ached and he felt as if he'd been run over by a carriage. His muscles felt weakened and tired. He forced his eyes to open slightly again. This time wasn't as bad as the first, but it still pained him. Everything seemed overly bright.

There was an empty chair moved nearer the bed, as if someone had been watching him sleep. How odd. A door creaked open and Tia walked over to the nightstand and placed a glass of water down. Odd, he never remembered that door making a noise before. Nelson would need to know about that. He wanted to speak, but his mouth couldn't form the words. What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

He watched as she put black powder into the liquid and fear overcame him. What in God's name was she giving him? Poison? She came closer to the bed with the glass in her hand.

“Are you truly awake yet? Or just dreaming with your eyes open?”

Why was she shouting at him? He tried to move his hands over his ears, but they seemed stuck in their position. Did she tie him down? She lifted his head to drink the potion. His damned body wouldn't help him knock the glass out of her hand. The vile liquid seeped down his throat until he coughed.

“Shh,” she shouted. “There's nothing more you can do but sleep. It will be over soon.”

His wise woman was really trying to kill him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

 

The next time he awoke, daylight filled the room and instead of the light burning his eyes, it felt nice. His head seemed clearer than the last time. Had her poison not worked on him? Scanning the room, he found her sitting in the wingback chair next to the bed, with her head in the crook, asleep. He tried to sit up until the weakness of his body forced him back down on his pillow.

“Can you hear me all right?” she whispered, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“You'll hang for this,” he muttered.

“For saving your life? All right, if I must,” she said with a slight laugh.

“I saw you giving me that black liquid.” His voice sounded gravelly to his ears.

“Yes, charcoal to absorb the poison.” Her hand went to his forehead and then she smiled. “Your fever has broken. Can you see me?” She stared into his eyes with a frown. “Your eyes are still slightly dilated but they look much better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can you see me? The belladonna gave you temporary blindness.”

“Belladonna? Why would you give me that?” he asked as anger invaded his mind. How dare this woman try to poison him and then say she saved his life?

She had the gall to giggle at him. “I most certainly didn't give you belladonna. Although, I'm afraid it may have come from my bag of herbs.”

If she hadn't tried to poison him, then who had? “Who?” he whispered.

“We're not certain yet. Nelson is looking into that while I take care of you.”

“I thought you didn't enjoy caring for people any longer.”

She stared down at her hands for a long moment. The expression on her face seemed pained, as if she were reliving something she wanted to forget. “I wasn't about to let you die, my lord.”

“Why not?”

She pressed her lips together, as if trying to formulate an answer. “There is nothing worse than watching a person die who is far too young.” She stood up and went to the basin to pour more water.

“How did you know it was belladonna poisoning?” he asked.

“You never forget it once you've seen it.”

He wondered what she meant by that. If only he felt like himself, then he might be able to sort through the hazy questions in his mind. “Can I eat something?” Far from the curious questions rolling through his mind, but he was hungry.

She turned away from the basin. “Of course. But I must start you on something easy, like broth. If that stays down then we'll see about some toast.”

“I'm starving, woman.”

Her smile lit the room. “And that is an excellent sign. Let me get someone to bring up some broth.”

As she left the room, his mind tumbled through the questions. Who did this to him? Who wanted him dead?

She walked back into the room with a smile on her face. “Nelson is very happy to hear you are feeling better. You gave him quite a scare.”

A horrible thought came to him. “Perhaps I shouldn't eat food prepared here.”

“Nelson already had that same thought. Every one of the servants will have to try the broth and only then will Nelson himself pour it into a bowl for you.”

Braden smiled slightly. “He's a good man.”

“Yes, he is. You should do something special for him.”

“Such as?”

“A bonus,” she said lightly.

He nodded slightly. “Bring me the envelope from Mr. Adams.”

“Of course.” She searched his linen press until she found the jacket he'd been wearing that night. “I have found it. Do you remember anything after we left the Red Door?”

“No. The last thing I remember is telling you that we were leaving. After that, everything is blank. Will it come back?”

“Most likely, not.” She handed him the heavy envelope.

He dumped the contents on the bed before pulling out a twenty-pound note. “Hold this for me.”

She took the note and her eyes widened. “Twenty pounds! That's a bloody fortune. And why did Mr. Adams give you so much money?”

He tilted his head with a lopsided grin. “Not one of those gossips told you I was part owner of the Red Door? That is why Jonathon was there. He knew he wouldn't be turned away.”

“I had no idea.”

A loud rap on the door announced his first meal in several days. Mr. Nelson approached tentatively. “Good afternoon, my lord. I do hope you are feeling better today.”

“I am at that, Nelson. Thank you. Any ideas on who might have done this to me?”

Nelson slid a glance at Tia, who nodded slowly. “We believe it might have been Mary, my lord. She has not been seen since that night.”

“And she had access to my bag,” Tia added.

“Why would a woman I barely know want to kill me?” Braden asked. “Nelson, bring Mr. Brady around tomorrow. I want to get his opinion on this matter.” Hopefully, the runner would have some insight on why a maid would want him dead.

B
raden awoke again the next morning, only to find Tia once more asleep in the chair next to him. He wondered if she'd had much rest at all since his poisoning. Sleeping in the chair, she hardly looked like a wise woman. Instead, she appeared almost angelic. Her red hair had come loose from its confinement and curls framed her freckled face. He'd never been partial to women with red hair and freckles before. Most of his women had been blond.

Still, there was something that drew him to her. It was madness. He couldn't seduce his wise woman. The complications from that union could be enormous and the first would be her mother. Mrs. Featherstone was a formidable lady, indeed. There were few people—much less women—who could intimidate him, but she came close.

As if realizing she was being watched, Tia blinked her doe-like eyes open. A slow smile lifted her lips. “How are you?”

“Much better. My eyesight and hearing appear to be back to normal. And if my grumbling stomach is any indication, I would love to eat something a little more substantial.”

“Of course. You could try a sandwich.”

“Very well, but only if I can have a full breakfast tomorrow. And get out of this damned bed,” he replied with a smile.

“Breakfast, maybe. Bed, no.” She stretched her arms over her head, accentuating her full breasts. “You should spend a week in bed to get your strength back.”

Damned desire
. He could spend a month in bed with her. He closed his eyes, but still couldn't get the image of her breasts pressing against the blue muslin. “Then you'll have to join me in bed.”

Dammit!
He wasn't supposed to say that!

She laughed almost nervously. “I doubt you're up to that just yet.”

“You have no idea,” he muttered as his cock thickened with anticipation. “I feel much better than yesterday.”

“Get your strength back and then we'll discuss the matter,” she said casually. “I will order you a tray and then I'll get dressed.”

“My strength has recovered.” Braden blew out a frustrated sigh. Seducing her wasn't an option if he planned to keep his vow to reform. But six months without a woman was killing him. Perhaps that was the only reason he found her so devastatingly desirable. She was pretty, but not his typical blond beauty. Yet, there was much more to her.

He had thought her selfish to leave his estate and the people who needed him. Now, he wondered if she hadn't run from something or the memory of someone. Could that really have been the reason she ran? She admitted she'd seen a poisoning with belladonna before. He closed his eyes. Had someone on the estate died from it? It seemed unlikely. He had never heard of the poisoning until she told him what had happened.

That left the possibility that she had left because of another reason. He doubted it was entirely his brother's departure. Once she'd discovered Jonathon might have fathered Emily's baby, she had given up her infatuation rather quickly.

A few minutes later, she returned and a footman carried in a tray laden with food. His eyes widened and his stomach grumbled.

“It is not all for you,” she said with a smile. “I thought we might as well share a meal together.”

He pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Excellent suggestion, Miss Featherstone.”

“Would you like a shirt?” Her face reddened as she looked at his bare chest.

“No, I am just fine.” Watching her cheeks redden, he said, “This can hardly bother you. I've been shirtless for . . . ?”

“Three days. That is normal for that type of poisoning.” She removed one plate and then put the tray on his lap, then sat back down and took a bite of her sandwich. He couldn't help but stare at her. There were dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn't slept much because of him.

“Will it have any lasting effect?”

She shook her head as she chewed. “No,” she finally answered. “You should be fine now. Just don't ingest anymore.”

“I will do my best to avoid it.” He reached for his sandwich and took a bite. “Does it really taste this good or am I just starving?”

“No, it really tastes this good,” she said with a laugh.

It was the first time she actually seemed comfortable around him. And he liked it. There was something about her that warmed his heart. He wanted to see her smile more, dress in silks and fashionable clothing. This was not him!

Was this all just the effect of her saving his life?

That had to be the answer.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. “You have been staring at me for two minutes without saying a word.”

“It was nothing.”

She stifled a yawn, but he noticed. Once luncheon was finished, he would insist she take a nap.

“I'll take your tray now,” she said as he finished the last bite of his sandwich. She reached over him to lift the tray.

He brought his hand to her soft cheek. She paused and looked over at him. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I wouldn't be alive if not for you.”

She blinked quickly, then grabbed the tray and left the room. When she came back a few minutes later, her eyes were slightly red as if she'd been crying. He had no idea what was wrong.

“Tia, please come over here.” He patted a place on the bed next to him. For once, she did as he requested without question. She sat down on the bed, but refused to meet his gaze. He turned her head toward him. “Why were you crying?” he asked softly.

“I was not crying,” she replied, but then blinked several times.

“Were you worried about me?” He let his hand rest on her cheek.

“Of course I was worried about you. If you had . . . died, the blame would be on me. Everyone would assume because the belladonna was from my bag that I had something to do with the poisoning.”

She was just a dreadful liar. “What is the real reason?”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “I lost a child to belladonna poisoning a year ago. It was all my fault. I had grown it because it can have some medicinal qualities in small doses. She ate a handful of berries on a dare. Her little brother survived by chance. But I had never seen the effects of the poison. By the time I arrived at the house, her fever was very high. I made a terrible assumption that it was just a summer fever.”

Braden wiped the tears that flowed down her face. “I am sorry that you had to relive that with me.” Slowly, he brought her down to rest against his chest. Her tears dampened his skin. “Shh,” he murmured, caressing her hair. “Please don't cry.”

“I'm sorry,” she said with a little hiccup. “By the time I came back the next morning, she could barely breathe. She died an hour after I arrived. It wasn't until a day later that her brother admitted to eating the berries. I should have known. I should have known what the symptoms were before I decided to grow that damned plant.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“Seeing you like that brought back all the memoires and I was terrified that I would lose you.”

Braden shook his head. “It wouldn't be much of a loss for the world. There isn't much I can claim that I've done to make this a better place.”

“You must have done something good in your life. You are trying to help your brother.” She shook her head. “And your servants love you.”

“Except one.”

She wiped her tears away and nodded. “Yes, except one who poisoned you. But your tenants also have a great respect for you. No one liked the previous viscount.” As if realizing where she was, she pulled back and stared at him.

“You were fine where you were,” he whispered.

“I—I—”

Even knowing he shouldn't, he reached up and cupped her neck. He brought her closer and kissed her tenderly. Her soft lips responded to his gentleness. Before passion could overtake him, he broke away and softly said, “Thank you.”

“I—”

“Go take a nap, Tia. You look as if you've barely slept since I took ill.”

She nodded, but continued to stare at his lips. “You should nap too. By tomorrow, you shall feel much better. I'll come back at dinner.”

“I look forward to that.”

Tia left the room quickly and headed to her bedroom. She flopped on the bed, burying her head under a pillow. What just happened in there? If he hadn't been a gentleman and pulled away, she might have continued to kiss him. She might have encouraged him to do more than kiss her. What was wrong with her?

He even admitted he had done nothing with his life. He wasn't the type of man who fell in love. Even Emily had told her he was nothing but a rake. And whatever that vow was he had supposedly taken, apparently he wasn't keeping it.

But that handsome face drew her in. She wanted those lips on her mouth, her breasts . . . everywhere. He obviously wanted her, so why hadn't he taken the initiative yet? Dear God, he'd had an erotic dream about her. A part of her wanted to march into his room this instant to confront him.

She pounded her fists into the bed. In her entire life, she'd never felt such frustration running through her. Not even when she thought she loved Jonathon did she feel this way. There was only one way this madness would stop.

She had to have him.

After all, who was she to save her herself for marriage? She would probably end up married to some tenant farmer on the estate. He wouldn't care if she'd already been with Middleton. The man would presume they would get some preferential treatment because of that fact. Well, whoever that man turned out to be, she would set him straight. She wanted nothing from Middleton . . . except his body.

With her mind made up, she rang for a bath. After an hour of soaking in lavender-scented water, she dried off and walked to the linen chest. With a smile, she pulled out the red silk.

“What are you doing with that dress?” Mrs. Abbott said as she entered the room to assist her. “You are not going out tonight.”

“No, I am having dinner in his lordship's bedchamber,” she replied with a smile.

“Miss Featherstone, the man is still recovering from being poisoned. He will not be in the mood for such foolishness.”

“Oh yes, he will.” And if he were too weak to make love to her then, she would make love to him. How hard could it be?

“I suppose he might be all right. He did call for a bath not long before you.”

“Excellent. Now help me into this dress.”

Mrs. Abbott sighed and then assisted her with her undergarments. “Are you certain this is what you want? You'll be branded a harlot.”

“I already am. I might as well find out what it is I'm supposed to have done.”

“I wish I could say I see your point, but I don't. You know what can happen. He won't marry you just because you carry his child.” Mrs. Abbott laced her stays tight.

“I am a wise woman, Mrs. Abbott. I understand how babies are made. I also have no expectation of marriage from his lordship. If I get with child, I will return to the estate and no one will mind as long as I teach my daughter the healing ways.”

“And if it is a son?”

Tia couldn't think about that. “I will deal with that if it happens.”

“As you wish.” Mrs. Abbott led her to the table. “Now, we must do something with all this hair.”

“Nothing tight.”

“Of course not, but he will want to take your hair down slowly.”

Tia wasn't about to ask Mrs. Abbott how she knew that. By the time Mrs. Abbott was through, Tia was shocked. Her upswept hair was still loose, so once a few pins fell out, all of her hair would tumble down her back. But it was the shocking bodice that forced a gasp from Tia's lips.

“Don't take a deep breath or they will tumble right out of there,” Mrs. Abbott said with a giggle. “At least you have enough to keep that up. It would fall right off me with these little tits.”

“Hush,” Tia said, afraid if she laughed she would expose herself.

Footsteps sounded down the hall. “That would be the footmen bringing dinner,” Mrs. Abbott commented. “Are you certain you are ready for this?”

Tia took one last look in the mirror. She barely recognized her reflection. The high-waisted red silk was accented by a hint of black lace at her bosom. The black lace also lined the bottom of the skirt and short sleeves.

“Come along,” Mrs. Abbott said. “The footmen are leaving and you don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Thank you for your help.” Tia blew a long breath out. This was it. After tonight, she would know exactly what happened between a man and a woman.

She knocked on his bedchamber door with a shaking hand. Hearing his reply, she slowly opened the door and walked inside.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered from the chair in the salon. “Are you going somewhere tonight?”

She licked her lower lip. “I thought it would be nice to dress for dinner. I'd heard you bathed, so I assumed you would be dressed too.” If you could call black trousers, a white linen shirt, and black waistcoat
dressed
. He didn't even bother with a cravat.

“That is a bit overdressed, wouldn't you say?”

She couldn't help but notice how he clutched the arms of the chair. “I suppose it is. But I didn't want you to think I didn't appreciate the gown. It is lovely, isn't it?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely.

“Shall we eat before things get cold?”

“Yes.”

He rose slowly and pulled the chair out next to him for her. She slid into the seat and looked at the two plates before her. “Be careful not to eat too much tonight. Your stomach might still be sensitive.”

“I am fine now,” he grumbled before taking his own seat.

“Did you enjoy your bath? It must have felt wonderful after being in bed for three days.”

“It was fine. But my valet was off tonight, so I am still with this,” he said, rubbing his hand across his beard.