A Marquess for Christmas (28 page)

She
is on the verge of losing everything…
To save her home and keep her two younger siblings safe, Louisa Evans must
turn to the head of the family that ruined hers.

He needs an heir…
The Marquess of
Overlea
is starting to show signs
of having inherited the same illness that killed his father and older brother.
To prevent the marquisate from falling into the hands of an unscrupulous
cousin,
Overlea
must secure an heir before that
illness also claims him.
But he is determined not to be the father
of that heir…
Overlea’s
plan is simple—marry the
practical, yet desperate, Miss Evans and hold Louisa to her promise to provide
him with an heir. But he waits until after they are married to tell his wife
that he intends to have another man father that heir. His careful plan becomes
complicated by an almost desperate need to claim Louisa for himself and an
outside threat that proves even more dangerous than anticipated.

Chapter One

Kent, 1806

A
knock at the door in the middle of the night never brought good news. Casting a
longing glance at the welcoming bed she’d been about to sink into, Louisa Evans
tied the sash of her dressing gown. Pushing aside the weariness that threatened
to drag her down, she hurried downstairs.

She
expected to find one of her neighbors when she opened the door and was
surprised to find, instead, a stranger. A very tall man with dark hair who
sagged against the door frame, his eyes closed. She shivered as the cool autumn
air cut through her nightgown and dressing gown.

“Can
I help you?” she asked.

When
he didn’t reply she wondered if he were foxed and had somehow stumbled across
their cottage. She placed a hand on his arm to gain his attention and repeated
her question.

His
eyes opened and he pinned her with a gaze that was dark and penetrating.

“I
require assistance…” he managed to say before closing his eyes again.

He
swayed slightly and started to slide down the doorframe. Moving instinctively,
Louisa had her shoulder under his arm in a moment, steadying him as he
collapsed. He was much larger than she, and for a second she thought she would
collapse with him.

She
straightened and stared down, stunned, at where he sat propped against the
doorframe. Hesitating only a moment, she leaned over him to smell his breath
and detected a faint hint of alcohol. She brought a hand to his forehead and
was alarmed to find he had a fever.

Another
blast of the night air, uncharacteristically cold this early in September, had
her shivering in earnest now. She would have to move the stranger inside and
close the door. She didn’t know what was wrong with him, but with his fever he
couldn’t afford to catch a chill. She wasn’t strong enough, however, to carry
him inside on her own.

Her
decision made, she hurried upstairs and rapped on her brother’s door. When he
didn’t answer, she entered the room and shook him awake.

“What’s
the matter?” he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

“I
need your help. There’s a man downstairs who is ill. He collapsed on our
doorstep.”

John
jolted awake at the mention of the stranger. At eighteen, he was seven years
younger than her, but since their father had died he’d decided it was his duty
to protect the family.

He
dressed quickly and followed her downstairs to where the man sat, still propped
up, in their doorway.

“Who
is he?”

Louisa
shook her head. “I don’t know, but he’s ill and the cold can’t be good for him.
Help me bring him inside so I can close the door.”

They
managed to rouse the man enough to help him to his feet, supporting his weight
between them. He was unsteady and their progress was slow, but at her
insistence they managed to bring him to her room, which was still warm from her
recently banked fire. He collapsed on her bed with a groan.

“I’ll
see to his comfort,” she told John. “I saw a horse outside that must belong to
our guest. He’ll need to be cared for.”

John
set his shoulders and she knew he was going to insist that she look after the
horse. She cut him off before he could protest the impropriety of the
situation.

“Do
you actually believe this man is in any condition to do me harm?”

Her
brother hesitated, but it was clear the stranger had lost consciousness.
Grumbling something under his breath about bossy sisters, he turned and left to
see to the horse.

Louisa
occupied herself with rebuilding a fire in the small fireplace before turning
to look at the man lying on her bed. Despite her assurances to her brother, she
was nervous. She’d cared for their father during his long illness, but this man
was nothing like their father.

She
approached the bed and looked down at him, and her heart fluttered as she
realized just how handsome he was. His hair was a dark brown, almost black,
framing a face that had no doubt caused many other hearts to beat faster, as
well. Despite his fever, he was very pale, his skin drawn taught over high
cheekbones and a strong jaw that was already showing a hint of stubble.

She
swallowed hard as her gaze traveled down the length of him. He was asleep, but
his presence filled the room. She shook her head to clear it and turned away,
telling herself that caring for this man would be no different than caring for
her father as she went to her washstand and poured water from the pitcher into
the washbasin. Concentrating on the familiar task, she set the basin on her
bedside table, dipped a washcloth into the water, and wrung it out. Her hands
were not quite steady as she washed his face, hoping the cool water would bring
him a measure of comfort. Her movements were brisk, but slowed when he moaned.
His eyes opened and she froze as his black, inscrutable gaze caught and held
hers.

She
was spiraling downward, drowning in twin pools of darkness. The heat in the
room seemed to increase as a flush spread through her body. The seconds ticked
by, seeming to stretch into minutes.

Without
another sound, the stranger’s eyes closed again. She dragged in a shaky breath
and shook off the paralysis that had stolen over her. She could not, however,
shake off her sense of unease.

Her
hands were still shaking when she dropped the damp cloth into the basin.
Pushing aside her trepidation, she moved to the bottom of the bed to remove his
boots. She hesitated only a moment before placing one hand on the heel of the
black leather molded to his right leg and the other on his knee. A jolt of
awareness surged through her at the contact and she jerked back. Her gaze flew
to the stranger’s face, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw he was
still asleep. She would have died of mortification if he’d seen her foolish
reaction to touching him.

She
tugged off his boots before turning her attention to removing his coat, but she
knew her bravery did not extend that far. Her bedcovers were already turned
down and it took only a couple of tugs to free them completely from under his
legs. Concentrating on the blankets and not on his form, she covered him before
exhaling the breath she’d been holding. Most of him was now hidden from sight,
but she found it impossible to ignore the keen sense of awareness brought on by
the knowledge that a very attractive man now slept in her bed.

Trying
to ignore the less than chaste thoughts that rose, unbidden, to her mind,
Louisa retrieved a blanket for herself from the trunk at the foot of her bed
and settled into a chair to wait. When John returned from seeing to their
unexpected guest’s horse, he tried to insist on taking her place, but if the
stranger’s condition took a turn for the worse John wouldn’t know what to do.
He helped her to remove the man’s coat and loosen his cravat before returning
to his own room, but only after extracting her promise to fetch him when the
man woke.

It
was a long night. The stranger’s slumber was restless, interrupted, at first,
by frequent bouts of thrashing and murmured words that were indecipherable.
Eventually, he settled into a deep sleep and she was able to close her eyes and
get some rest. She had just drifted off when a low moan woke her. She struggled
up from her cramped position in the armchair by the bedside, and her blanket
slid to the floor.

“Papa?
Do you need anything?” she asked, disoriented after being pulled from the
middle of a strange dream.

But
the man lying in the bed, her bed, wasn’t her father. She was confused for a
moment before the memories rushed back. After a year of failing health, her
father had finally succumbed to death six months before. She leaned back in the
chair and examined the stranger more closely in the faint morning light. She
hadn’t dreamt him after all.

For
more information, please go to
http://www.suzannamedeiros.com
.

ABOUT THE
AUTHOR

Vivienne
Westlake has been reading and writing romance since the age of fifteen. She has
a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature and when she’s not plotting stories
about sexy heroes and sassy heroines, she’s buying a book on British history,
watching the latest teen vampire show, doing an art project or singing karaoke
with friends.

Vivienne enjoys
hearing from readers. You can contact her at:

Official
Website:
http://www.viviennewestlake.com

Facebook
:
http://www.facebook.com/viviennewestlakeromance

Twitter:
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Goodreads
:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/list/5301784.Vivienne_Westlake

If you enjoyed
A Marquess for Christmas
, please watch
for the upcoming release of The Captain’s Wicked Caress in 2013.