A Lady's Charade (Medieval Romance Novel) (22 page)

“Yes, he is. He is not to be disturbed.” Harold looked down his nose at her.

“I understand, Harold. However, you know that I have been working with the villagers when they are ill, perhaps I can be of assistance.” Chloe lifted her chin in challenge.

The man looked at her hard, his eyes narrowing at her as he pursed his lips.

“The physician will be here soon. He is much better qualified, I assure you.” Harold looked away, dismissing her with his hand.

“Now, Harold, if you are talking about the same physician that can’t be found when the people of this village are sick, and when he is located he is deep in his cups, or with a woman, than we both know he is not suited for Lord Hardwyck.” She put her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. “Let me help before that imbecile of a doctor comes here and makes things worse.”

Harold sighed and rolled his eyes, but he did open the door.

“If you insist.” Annoyance was clear in his voice as he stepped aside.

Chloe took the opportunity and rushed into the room. Harold closed the door gently behind her, leaving her alone in the room with Alexander.

He lay in his bed asleep, blankets piled high atop him. His chamber was quite a bit larger than hers, naturally, since he was the lord of the keep, but it was surprisingly just as sparsely furnished. There was a gigantic aged four poster oak bed, curtains drawn aside, upon which he slept, a wardrobe, a chest, two chairs flanked a round table by a raging fire, and a table which held a water basin and vase.

She looked back at the sleeping nobleman and could see the rise and fall of his deep breathing. He looked peaceful. What happened to cause him to fall into the water? She knew that he swam there often, but usually he did so without his clothes on—and it was now quite cold out. Perhaps his horse had got caught up in a tree root and he had been thrown?

She decided that when he arose she would talk with him further about the accident, for now she needed to check his body heat and see if there were any injuries.

She walked to the edge of the bed. A fleeting daydream of walking up to the gigantic bed and Alexander laying in it when they were married flashed in her mind. She watched him sleep, safe in her thoughts, safe in her dreams, dreams that would never come true. She was glad there was no one else in the room, for she was sure all of her feelings showed on her face.

Walking closer to the bed, she let her fingers trail along the edge of the ornate wood frame. It was intricately carved with dragons and ivy, just as the great doors had been. Despite its age it had been kept in excellent condition.

She moved closer to him, and touched his forehead with the back of her fingers. The searing heat from his skin nearly burned her fingers. He had a fever. She trailed her fingers along the length of his face, tucking dark curls of his hair neatly back behind his ear. As she did his hand came up and gripped her wrist, hastily she tried to pull free, but his grip grew tighter.

“Chloe…” he whispered, before falling back to sleep, letting her arm drop down to her side.

She tucked his blankets more firmly around his shoulders. The fire in the grate still burned high and needed no further wood placed upon it.

Chloe went to the door and spoke to Harold briefly. He allowed her to leave to go and get the herbs she needed to give to Alexander so his fever wouldn’t get worse. When she returned, she was relieved Alexander stayed awake long enough to sip on the herbed broth that she’d made.

After giving him the broth, she wiped his forehead with cool cloths, and stoked the embers in the fire that had begun to fade. Surprisingly, Harold was very accommodating, and willing to help her get the things she needed. Through her embarrassment, he even helped her to look over their master’s body for injury. With a flaming face, she palpated his chest and back. Sinewy muscle pressed back against her fingertips. A light sprinkling of hair fanned his chest. Her breaths hitched as wanton sensations swept through her body. All she could think of was his strong form pressed to hers, his lips on her skin. Through sheer force of will she was able to tamp down the desire raging inside her.

When it came time to look lower, she told Harold what to look for. She was too afraid that looking at that part of him would only bring to life the hunger she’d quelled.

Chloe hoped Harold finally realized how much more helpful she could be than the physician. She hoped Harold would be her champion when Alexander balked about it. Despite his grumbling, she knew he would approve of her help over the physician. Thinking about the physician she almost laughed. The man had still not shown up. He was probably out drinking away the coin he had made that week.

Chloe stayed vigilantly by Alexander’s side, wiping his brow and feeding him the herbed broth that she had made. He was a good patient and dutifully drank the broth when he awoke, always falling back asleep, but not before he would grip her wrist and whisper her name.

Harold had the staff bring her food and ale to drink. At one point he demanded that she rest but she refused, and he had a blanket brought for her as she slept on the chair by the fire. She was glad he didn’t force her to leave as he very well could, and she was also glad he took care of her duties about the keep, so she could stay by their lord.

A part of her suspected he only did so because he knew how good she was with those who were sick, and she thanked him profusely for letting her. The other part questioned why he let her. Her feelings grew for the lord she was supposed to hate until they were almost at the breaking point.

What was the matter with her? He was her enemy.

If Alexander died, then she would be free. She could return to her home, her family, even perhaps lead a raid to gain back South Hearth.

She knew all of these things, but just thinking about them made her feel empty inside. In her heart, she wanted to be with him. The battle of wills they played with each other was something she looked forward to on a daily basis. She liked the searing looks they exchanged, either from total hatred or desire, whatever seemed to be their moods. In some odd way, her father and King Henry had brought them together. Now they were together, yet so far apart.

She knew she was in a precarious position. She knew Alexander had his suspicions about her. She knew it was a dangerous place for her to be, but despite all those things, she stayed. The letter to her clan smoldered in the fire after Alexander had searched her room. Words dropped at her lips when she would have asked Lady Anne for help.

Her feelings for Alexander kept her here. They were so strong, holding her captive with this man that could ruin her future, turn her out at any moment, even end her life. But would he really? Could the burning desire that emanated from him each time he looked on her be so easily dismissed?

Between her merciless, unrelenting thoughts, she slept. While she slept she dreamed of him. Dreams that could only ever be dreams. Dreams of them holding hands, having meals together, her feeding him a slice of meat from her knife, and him feeding her a juicy grape. Some of her dreams became more vivid, reminding her of their time in the woods on
that day.
Hands splayed on naked flesh. Lips traveling from the top of her head to her toes—and Lord preserve her—vice versa. Staying in his room with him day and night, her dreams and awakenings blended into one.

Each time she awoke, she was startled at her surroundings. Remembering quickly where she was, she rose from her chair to check on him. She brushed her hands across his brow and cheeks, letting her fingers linger a little too long which only added fuel to her dreams.

After what seemed like weeks, but could only in reality be a few days, she awoke to him calling to her.

“Chloe…Chloe… Where are you?” he whispered, his voice weak.

Jumping up from her sleeping place on the chair, she ran to the side of the bed, her heart pounding. He was calling for her. For
her.

“My lord, Alexander, I am here,” she whispered, gripping his outstretched hand.

He did not respond. His hand was limp. It seemed he’d fallen back asleep. She felt his brow and it appeared as though the fever had finally broken. His lids lifted showing bloodshot eyes. Despite the redness they were still beautiful to her. She smiled down at him, and he squeezed her hand.

“I am here. All is well. Drink this.” She held a goblet of ale to his lips. He lifted his head up weakly and sipped at the liquid. She wiped away the droplets that spilled in his feeble attempts to drink.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You must have had a spill into the river. You came back nearly frozen. Harold brought you up, and allowed me to care for you. You have been asleep for days.”

“You cared for me?” His brows narrowed. He pushed aside the cup of ale. He tried to sit up, and she gently pushed him back down. “Where is Harold?”

Why did he seem so alarmed that she’d been the one taking care of him?

“Harold is doing his duties. You need to rest. You’ll be fine, my lord, now that the fever has broken and you are awake,” she said, trying to make her voice calm. She decided not to address his alarm at her care. Perhaps it was all her imagination. She was quite tired herself.

“You? Have you been here the whole time?” he asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

His body stiffened and he pulled his hand away. The sudden transformation in the way he reacted to her shattered her uplifted spirits at him being awake. Her heart clenched as she realized she’d been living in a dream world the past few days caring for him. She had been pretending. Pretending that they were a couple, that everything would be all right. How silly could she be?

“Yes, my lord. I am known quite well throughout the village for my healing knowledge. While you were away I was quite busy. Naturally, Harold agreed for me to assist.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t know why she felt so defensive, but he was definitely questioning her.

“I see. And where is my physician?” he demanded, his cold grey eyes assessing her.

“Probably deep in his cups, my lord,” she answered, just as haughtily.
Or his mistress
, she thought with a smirk.

“And what was in that ale? Poison I suspect. I should have known. You came here to kill me.” He looked around as if trying to find more danger.

“I beg your pardon!” Her hands flew to her hips as she took on the air of scolding a child. “I, sir, have slaved day and night over you trying to make you well and this is the thanks I get? You are accusing me of trying to poison you? Certainly not!” She was shouting now. “I should have let that incompetent fool of a doctor come here and bleed you to death. Oh, wait, he never showed up. I shouldn’t have bothered, for then I wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing. All of my problems would be solved. But, no! I wanted to save you!” She turned on her heel and headed for the door. She couldn’t stand to be here with him another minute while he continued to offend her and accuse her of heinous things.

“Stop right there,
mademoiselle
!” His bellow showed he certainly had increased his strength. She stopped dead in her tracks. “Turn around, and get back here.” His demand was not shouted this time, but the tone was filled with just as much authority.

Chloe slowly turned, her anger burning in her cheeks. With her teeth clenched and her hands in fists by her sides, she stalked back to his bed. She glared down at him as she had never glared at anyone before. Humiliation was an understatement compared to how she felt having to listen to this brute. She let the look on her face say everything she felt.

“What exactly do you mean that you wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing?” His voice like steel gripped her soul and her whole body chilled.

What was he talking about? She tried to remember word for word what she had said. She had let her anger get the better of her. Had she said that? She folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin.

“I assure you,
mademoiselle
, that I heard correctly. How would your problems be solved were my doctor to bleed me to death?” He raised an eyebrow.

Her body went numb all over, her throat grew dry and tight. Had she said that? Now she was in for it. It was too late, she couldn’t back down.

“I assure
you,
my lord, that I have no idea what you are talking about. Now I’m going to get you some soup, since you’re awake. You need to gain your strength back.” With that she left the room, and this time ignored his shouts for her to come back.

Chloe had one of the other servants bring up the food and informed Harold herself that the master was well, and she would be taking an extended break to recoup herself from the ordeal. Harold nodded, and had the staff bring her a bath.

Tucking the portrait of herself and her brother under the mattress again, she sank into the tub. The warmth of the water and her fire was like a lullaby that helped her to drift into sleep.

But it was a restless sleep, filled with visions of Alexander. What would he do now that she’d finally faltered? There was no arguing now. She’d let it slip out…

Chapter Thirteen

She had slipped.

Chloe had made a mistake!

He had been waiting for her to do such a thing for weeks. Finally it happened. Alexander loved watching the play of emotions on her face as she realized her blunder, and found it quite hilarious as well as irritating that she denied any knowledge of it, even going so far as to leave his room with him shouting after her.

He had felt quite strong for the last day, but decided to play up that aspect to see what she was up to. He was surprised to see her sleeping in the chair by his fire. More than surprised—shocked.