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Or so he believed her at the time. How foolish she must have thought him. How she must have laughed as she wrapped herself around him.
He had not ventured to approach any woman since his maiming—not since the first one had backed away from him, horror on her face. But Celeste had enchanted him, and he had been made weak with need. He had gone against his principles and made love to a woman he believed to be an innocent.
Had Celeste truly been a virgin, he would have married her, of course. But that did not answer to his conscience. The real bite of some of the accusations that had been fired at him later was that they bit too close to the bone.
He had failed his own standards. He had given up his discipline. He had broken his own rules.
What disturbed him the most was that, for once in his life, he had thoroughly enjoyed doing it.
When Phona awakened again, it was daylight. As promised, Lord Hades lay sleeping on the cot, his long form stretched the length of it, and his feet hanging over the end. Locks of hair, escaped from the ribbon, curled around his face and made him look younger and…yes, less ferocious. He was snoring just a little.
What a difference in his aspect! Did snoring make everyone seem harmless? Phona had only seen Hades as big and threatening. Commanding and enforcing obedience. Brooking no resistance.
Piratical.
Now he looked… Well, human. She supposed even brigands had to sleep sometimes. But clearly, this man had not always been an outlaw. Not only his knowledge of the classics, but—except for the few words spoken to the man called Hardesty—his speech and address marked him an educated man. How could he have come to this?
Phona rested her eyes for a moment. They still burned and felt blurry. When she opened them again, a single blue eye regarded her steadily. Just that suddenly his humanity dissolved. He became once more the indomitable force.
“Good morning, Miss Hathersage.” He swung his feet over the side of the cot. “Apparently we both slept at last. How do you feel this morning?”
“Better than yesterday evening.” Phona tried to sit up, failed and fell back against the pillow. “Not well enough.”
“That is to be expected. You had developed a very high fever before I could get you out of the rain and cold.” He rose to his feet. “Forgive me if I leave you for a while. I’ll let Aelfred know you are awake. He will bring you something to eat.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I am confident that gruel is on the menu.”
“No doubt, at least once before the day is out. And several cups of nasty medicine. I will come again this afternoon after I have slept. Try to do the same. Your rest last night was badly disturbed.” He grinned, and again regained a hint of the human. “And obey Aelfred while I am absent.”
Phona grimaced, and he laughed aloud as he went out.
During a dismal, foggy day, Phona dutifully slept, ate as much as she could and drank from the bitter cup. In spite of the fog in her mind and the fire in her limbs, she suddenly noticed that she was eating from silver implements and sipping from fine china. Now where in the world would a man like Hades come by those niceties?
Unless, of course, he stole them.
After breakfast Aelfred brought her a fresh nightshirt. “We’ll see to changing the linens as soon as you are able to sit in the chair, miss,” he assured her. Phona could hardly wait. The sheets had become damp and sticky with perspiration.
The day dragged on interminably. She still had trouble staying alert. Sometime after a light nuncheon—which had included a slice of bread with her gruel—she woke abruptly from a doze to find Lord Hades sitting in the chair beside her bed, reading.
He set aside the book. “Good afternoon, Miss Hathersage. What is the report now? Any progress?”
Phona coughed and cleared her throat. “Well, I am no longer beside myself. That must be counted progress, I should think.”
“Yes, indeed. That is a terrifying condition.” He rose and picked up her wrist. “Hmm. Still much too warm and your pulse is a bit tumultuous.”
He returned her arm to her own keeping, and Phona hastily hid it under the covers. Something about his touch, his nearness, created an unfamiliar unease. She heaved a small sigh of relief when he sat again.
“So…” He leaned back in the chair, rested his elbows on the carved arms and cupped his right hand over the folded left sleeve. “Tell me more about the dreaded Mrs. Rowsley.”
Phona thought he might have steepled his fingers, except, of course, that he had no fingers on the left hand to steeple. The thought gave her pause. How awful to lose a limb! And an eye. She quickly looked at his face.
But he had already caught her staring. He started to move his hand to his lap, then instead, resumed the position and gave her a tight-jawed look. “Does my lack of a hand distress you, Miss Hathersage?”
His voice held a hint of ice, a challenge. Phona looked steadily into the cool blue eye. His oddity did unsettle her a bit, but she refused to be intimidated by it. Or by his manner. “No, my lord, but surely it must distress you.”
“It does so no longer. But let us return to Mrs. Rowsley.”
Phona heard the lie in his voice. His loss still distressed him very much. But she had no strength to deal with the subject. Let him deal with it himself!
“Yes, well, though it is sometimes hard to credit, she is Mama’s bosom friend. Yet the least thing puts them at dagger-drawing. They are so envious of one another. The day I first encountered you, she gave a small party and did not invite Mama and me. Mama was quite distraught.”
“Over an invitation to a party?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Mama is much given to the vapors.” Phona sighed. “I suspect she enjoys them.”
“Very likely. But you do not?”
“No! No, indeed.” She shook her head. “I had ridden out to escape them. It is always somehow my fault, you see.”
Lord Hades raised an eyebrow. “And how did this omitted invitation come to be laid at your door?”
“I said something—well, untactful—about Mrs. Rowsley’s future son-in-law. I should not have, of course, but I had heard so much of how the very young Suzette Rowsley has already captured a fiancé, whereas I… It wears on one to have one’s shortcomings held up too often.”
“I should imagine so. And Mrs. Rowsley overheard your remark?”
“Oh, no! I would never say that in her hearing, but what must Mama do but repeat my ‘clever’ remark. So now we are all out of charity.”
“But if your Mama repeated it…?”
“It is my fault for having said it in the first place.”
His lordship—did Hades qualify as his lordship?—shook his head. “I will never understand women. What was this disastrous remark?”
Phona flushed. “That he looks as much the bantam cockerel as he sounds.”
Hades threw back his head and a roar of laughter erupted.
Phona scowled with what defiance she could muster. Then she, too, began to laugh.
She laughed until exhaustion caught up with her and tears of weakness began to escape. She wiped at them angrily, swatting at the big, linen handkerchief that appeared before her face. “Give me the handkerchief. I can do it.”
“I have no doubt you can, but today I shall do it.” Hades moved her hands away firmly and wiped her eyes.
“Stop it! I am not a child!” Phona sank wearily into the pillows.
He returned the handkerchief to his pocket. “No, my dear, you are not. Believe me, I am well aware of that fact.”
Now what in the world did he mean by that?
The footman brought the note directly to Lady Hathersage’s sitting room where she and his lordship had sought seclusion. Demetra’s breath stopped, and she grasped her throat with both hands. Dear God in heaven! Please let this be news of her dearest Phona.
Her husband took the letter, dismissing the footman with a nod. Demetra sank back into the cushions of her chaise and clutched the pillows in both hands. A sound squeezed past her lips. “George…?”
He unfolded the paper, his face grim.
“What…? What…?” Demetra leaned forward, willing him to speak. Instead he looked puzzled. She slid to her feet and tried to read over his shoulder.
He handed her the letter. “I don’t know what to make of this. On my life, I don’t.”
“What does this mean?” She raised her gaze to his. She could not make it out without her eyeglasses, and she refused to wear them.
“I was expecting a demand for ransom.” He took the note from her trembling fingers and perused it again. “And this makes no mention of it.”
“Is she alive? Is she hurt?” Demetra reached again for the letter, but this time George did not relinquish it.
“Yes, she is alive. He says that she is well save a case of la grippe.”
“La grippe! I told her it was too cool to ride that afternoon. But did she listen…?”
“Enough, Demetra! That is hardly the point.” Lord Hathersage scowled.
Recoiling in astonishment, Demetra took refuge behind a lacy handkerchief, and sank onto the chaise. Fresh tears filled her eyes. George never growled at her.
He continued, “This scoundrel says that he must keep her with him for her own safety. He suggests that we put it about that she is exhausted and has gone to Bath to take the waters.”
A delicate snort erupted from the chaise. “Phona exhausted? Phona drinking the waters? No one will believe that.”
His lordship gave her another look, and Demetra subsided. Her husband continued to read. “He assures me that as soon as the danger is past, he will return her to us unscathed.”
“Unscathed? Does he mean that he will not…? Or…oh, my God, George! What if he already has!” Demetra’s hands flew to cover her face. “Oh! She will never marry. I will have failed her completely.”
“Damn his bloody soul to hell! He’d best not have. If he is trying to force a marriage with an heiress, I shall pull him limb from limb! I shall cut off his bloody…” He glanced at her and broke off.
Dear heaven! Demetra had never seen him so angry. For a moment she feared apoplexy. Then her own anger welled up in her, almost choking her.
“No, George. You will hold him, and I shall wield the knife!”
Chapter Four
As the days passed, the unimaginable oddness of the situation began to fade. The men cared for her as Lily and Nurse might have, and Phona found herself accepting their ministrations. She even found herself looking forward to another chat with Lord Hades each afternoon.
Just to break the monotony of the day, of course.
She had slept better the previous night than before, allowing his lordship to do the same. But even though he probably was not sleeping this morning, she had not seen him since he’d left his cot.
When he did appear, Phona found herself alternately elated and dismayed. He came in with Aelfred, bearing a small table and basin, while his henchman was laden with clean sheets. Hades set his burden down near the fire.
Aelfred laid his linens on a chair. “Back directly with the water.”
Phona rejoiced. She was to have a bath and a clean bed.
With them as attendants.
Oh, no!
“Lord Hades, I… Uh… I…”
He turned to her and grinned. “Be of good cheer, Miss Hathersage, your modesty will be preserved.”
He pulled a chair into place near the table with the basin, then wrestled the heavy, carved screen from the corner of the room to shelter them. Hades turned and looked closely at her. “Why, Miss Hathersage, you are blushing.”
“I am not!” Phona turned her face away.
Hades came to the bed and, with a hand on her chin, pulled it toward him. “Yes, you are.” He smiled. “But it is a very becoming blush. It makes you appear very… innocent.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Just as you should.”
She thought he might have said more, but Aelfred came through the door carrying a can of hot water. He poured part of it into the basin and put in a cautious finger.
Which he quickly jerked out. “Too hot, me lo…er, sir. Best wait a bit.”
“That is just as well. By the time I get our lady situated, it will no doubt have cooled.”
Phona gazed at him warily. He advanced on her, purpose in his eye. She grabbed the bedclothes and pulled them to her chin. “Um, one moment, my lord. Perhaps I can…”
Hades began to laugh, firmly seizing the covers. “Miss Hathersage, you have not even the strength to raise yourself on the pillows successfully. Here, let me have the quilts.”
He separated the quilts from the sheet and pulled them back. She clutched the sheet desperately to her chin. He shook his head. She need have no worry. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the sight of her nubile body. The temptation hovering in the air was burden enough. “Are you ready?”
She nodded and gamely lifted her chin. “Yes. I would like to be clean. Proceed, sir.”
“That’s my brave lady.” He tucked the sheet around her and lifted her off the bed. He carried her to the chair behind the screen and settled her into it. For a moment Leo feared she would not be able to sit, but she rallied and straightened.
“Thank you, sir. I can manage now.”
“Not so fast, Miss Hathersage. I am not sure of that at all.” Leo tested the water again, stirring it with his finger. The fragrance of lavender wafted into the room. “It is still too warm. I don’t want a burn to add to your miseries. Shall I brush your hair while it cools?”
“You don’t mind playing the lady’s maid?”
“Not at all.” In fact, he relished the idea of feeling the silky warmth in his hand. He retrieved a brush he had thrust into his back pocket, and set to work.
“My hair must be very nasty after lying on the ground.” The lady sighed. “Yesterday I could barely manage the comb.”
“Not that bad.” Leo flicked a dusting of soil from the sheet. “But you still have a few leaves and twigs caught in the curls.”
“How humiliating! These hateful curls!”
“What?” He quit brushing and leaned over to look at her face. “I cannot allow that, miss. Your curls are delightful.”
“You are very kind, sir, if untruthful. I own a mirror.”
