“It was my fault. All my fault.” The anguish in his voice resounded, savage and raw.
Her eyes began to burn. His image grew a bit fuzzy. What foolishness. She didn’t even know this man. What were his sad little dramas to her?
“It was all so damned, bloody useless.” He choked on the words and then coughed weakly.
“No, no, it was both of our faults.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could halt them.
“I’ll be a more constant lover.”
“Of course you will.”
“I shall arrive early every night. Early enough to visit your bed.”
“Of course you will,” she managed to say.
“Will you welcome me?”
“Yes.”
“You were correct. I was being too…inflexible. We shall have children, as you wanted. You cannot leave me then…” As his voice drifted off his eyes closed and he seemed to fall limp against the pillow, though he’d been lying there the whole time. His mouth fell open and he gave a low groan then coughed as his hand slipped away, a heavy, horrible weight in her lap.
Her body sagged with it. Wet sadness spilled on her cheeks. Her father’s frightened eyes were burned into her memory. That last day here at the garret. The day after he’d come at her with the knife. The orderlies were due to arrive any moment to take him. He’d known it. He’d been so afraid, gripping her hand. A sob tore up from the depths of her. Its very violence startled her out of her reverie.
What the devil was the matter with her?
What good did it ever do to dwell on that terrible day? She’d done what the doctors had recommended. For her safety. Papa’s madness had simply reached the point where she couldn’t attend to him on her own. Their relations had abandoned them and they couldn’t afford to hire any servants. She had done what she had to. Dr. Edmonton had been happy to help her find a suitable, affordable place for Papa in exchange for a little agreeableness in bed on her part.
It didn’t bear dwelling on.
She swiped at her face with the blanket’s edge. Then she pulled it up over David in one brisk tug.
The past was in the past. Dead. What she needed to do was get something written for Mr. Ratherford while David was sleeping and she had time. Jeanne stood and pushed everything else from her mind.
* * * *
Jeanne sat at her desk, waiting for the words to come. Hours passed and she had nothing to show for it but wisps of unformed, meaningless vignettes. Just as they had been every day since Bernard had taken his leave of her.
She let the quill drop from her hand. It fell to the page and rolled, leaving a feathery line upon the parchment. The lamp still burned brightly. She shouldn’t waste the oil. She should extinguish it and go to bed.
A man was sleeping in her bed. A stranger.
She went to his side once more.
“Thérèse…”
She laid a hand on his forehead. He felt warm but no worse. Yet how would she really know? The hand was not a very accurate gauge. She chewed her lip.
He was shivering so hard now that it pained her to watch. She had been sleeping on the trundle bed these past nights. But tonight perhaps she should share her warmth with him. She untied her robe, pushed it off her shoulders, and then crawled under the coverlet in her nightgown.
Facing his body, she touched his shoulder, feeling the rock hard resistance to her grasp. How fascinating. She’d never been with a man possessed of the like. How did a gentleman gain such fitness and for what purpose? If he awoke and fancied it, he could overpower her easily. Force her to his will.
As if the thought gave birth to action, he rolled toward her. Her body tingled and the hairs on her nape stood up in pure apprehension.
“Thérèse.” He slid his arm about her waist and buried his face into her hair. “You’re so warm. Always warm.”
Jeanne embraced him, pressing herself to him, and willed her warmth to him.
He slid his hands down to her bottom. “I adore your new curves. You were always too thin.
She couldn’t help a wry smile. “Too thin, eh?”
“No matter. You knew I adored you in any case.”
His voice held a mocking humor, as though he were laughing at himself. Parts of him were not affected by the fever. His erection swelled against her belly, huge and hot. She gasped and tried to back away. But he held her in place with surprising strength, given his feverish state.
A prickle of fear passed through her. He could overpower her if he wished. What had she been thinking to get into bed with him? He leaned closer until his breath tickled her face. A definite thrill chased down her spine.
“Have you been a good girl?”
Had she? Well, she hadn’t written a useful word in weeks.