Christmas Bliss (7 page)

He laughed then and his hands tightened around Emma’s neck.
She struggled and kicked, landing a blow against his knee. He cursed and
squeezed harder. Her nails bit into the flesh of his face. She tried to cry
out, but her breath was nearly gone.

Emma’s world darkened. She reached back and tore a stick
from the brittle bush behind her. With one last effort, she stabbed forward,
aiming for the general area of his eyes.

She could no longer see his face, but he cried out. For an
instant, his grip loosened and she collapsed to the ground. She climbed to her
feet and used the little energy that remained to stagger toward the fountain. A
moment later, she was grabbed from behind and those meaty hands gripped her
neck again. She kicked her legs, hitting his soft flesh. There was a crash, but
everything was cloudy and gray.

Darkness surrounded her and she thought she heard voices,
then nothing.

Chapter Six

John woke from his bed to find his new wife missing. He
smiled, pulled on his trousers, shirt and shoes and got up to go and find her
in the garden. He was halfway down the steps when he heard shouting from the
back of the house. He ran the rest of the way. His heart beat as if he’d been
running for days.

Footmen appeared in the hall and ran toward the garden.

John followed.

Angry male voices emanated from the maze. John ran through
the coating of snow. Emma’s wool wrapper lay in the snow at the first turn. He
didn’t notice the cold as he made his way to the fountain at the center.

If he’d found a dozen soldiers ready to besiege the house,
it would have been less of a shock than the scene that he beheld. The Bow
Street runner he’d hired grappled with a bloody-faced Drake Trent, while Emma
lay immobile in the snow.

John ignored the fight and ran to his wife. Her skin was
pale as linen and her eyes, though open, did not focus. One side of her face
had been bruised badly and her eye was swollen shut. Her throat, which he had
kissed a dozen times, was purple and red.

��Emma, stay with me,” John cried.

A blur of white descended to his right. “John, I shall send
for the doctor,” his mother said.

“My lord, perhaps you can carry Emma inside,” Emma’s aunt
said.

John didn’t know what to think. He did as Fiona said and
lifted Emma’s lifeless body into his arms. She was freezing and he pulled her
close.

When he turned, four footmen and the Bow Street runner were
all trying to subdue Trent. In an instant, they surged forward and Trent lost
his footing. He fell backward against the stone fountain. There was a terrible
thud and Drake Trent lay perfectly still with five men atop him.

John walked past and out through the maze.

Fiona followed closely at his right. She directed him up the
stairs of the house. “Put her in bed. We need to get her warm. It’s all we can
do until the doctor arrives.”

John did as he was told. He watched as her aunt and the maid
pulled the wet nightclothes from the limp body of his wife. Emma’s eyes were
closed. She barely resembled Emma with the bruises, blue lips and pale skin.
She looked as if death was only moments away. John’s chest squeezed painfully.

They ignored him standing to one side as they pulled another
gown on her body. Emma moaned when her maid touched her neck to tie the top.
The maid cringed and left the strings untied.

Once she was wrapped in blankets and propped up on pillows,
Fiona ordered warm towels and the maid ran from the room.

“Miss Poole,” John said from the shadows.

Fiona turned. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “My lord,
you should not be in here. You should go and wait in the library. I will tell
you if there is a change.”

“I would like a few minutes with my wife, please.”

She looked nervously from him to her niece. “Of course, my
lord. The water will take some time to warm. Stay with her until the doctor
arrives.”

Once he was alone with Emma, he climbed into the bed and
wrapped her body in his arms. He kissed her cheek. Freezing.

He tugged at the blankets that had been tucked around her
and slipped under, pressing his warm body flush against hers. The chill of her
skin seeped through her bedclothes and his blouse and trousers. He shivered,
but pulled her close to him.

She moaned, but he could make out no words.

“Emma, My love, you are forbidden to leave me. I need you,
don’t you see? If you could make a bit of an effort…” The words stuck in his
throat and moisture built in his eyes, spilled out and ran freely down his
cheek. He hadn’t wept since he was a boy. Someone might enter the room at any
moment and find him under the covers with his sick wife. They would think him
mad or worse. He didn’t care. He wanted to give her his warmth, his life if
need be. “You are the best thing for this all-too-serious politician. Oliver
needs you too. I don’t know what I must say to make you fight, Emma. I love
you.”

Her skin warmed a bit and her lips pinked up slightly. The
bruise on her face appeared worse, but she was not nearly as cold to the touch.

He heard the commotion downstairs when the doctor arrived
and slipped from the bed. He tucked the blankets around her, sat on the edge of
the bed and took her hand. Her fingers were still freezing, but her nails were
pink rather than the deathly blue they’d been when he found her.

While the drama of the doctor’s arrival continued all the
way up the stairs, getting louder as it went, John prayed.

The doctor, Fiona and a maid entered. John stood, kissed
Emma’s forehead and turned to the tall, dour gentleman. “My wife is very
precious to all of us, doctor.”

“Of course, my lord.” He bowed slightly. “I will do all that
is possible.”

John gave the man a nod and left the room.

He found his mother and Oliver in the library.

The boy ran over and immediately jumped into John’s arms.
“Is Sissy very sick?”

“Not very sick.” John gave him a squeeze.

“Sick like Papa?” Oliver did not cry, but John could see
that tears were brimming just below the surface.

John looked over at his mother.

“All the yelling woke him. The nanny didn’t know what to do,
so I told her to leave him here. She’s gone to get something for him to eat.”
The countess twisted a handkerchief in her hands.

“It’s all right, Mother.” He sat down on the settee and
settled Oliver in his lap. “Your sister is hurt, not sick as your father was,
Oliver. Do you understand?”

The child nodded. His eyes were wide pools of blue looking
up at John.

“Good. You are very brave. We will just wait for the doctor
to come and talk to us.”

Oliver touched John’s cheek. “Don’t worry, my lord. Sissy
promised to never leave me. She never breaks a promise.”

John took the little hand in his and kissed it. “There you
have it, then, she will be fine in no time.”

John wished he felt as sure as he sounded.

The butler cleared his throat from the doorway.

“What is it, Dorsey?” John asked.

“My lord, may I have a word with you?” The butler looked
pointedly at Oliver and then back up at John.

John ducked his head. “Oliver, will you keep the countess
company while she waits. I must go and speak with Dorsey.”

Oliver dipped his chin, hopped down and rushed over to sit
on the footstool in front of Margaret.

John rose, walked to the door and preceded Dorsey into the
foyer. Once the door was closed, John turned back to the butler. “What is it?”

“I regret to inform you, my lord, that Trent was injured
during the tussle in the garden. Besides having been blinded in one eye, which
we presume her ladyship did, he hit his head rather soundly on the fountain and
has not woken as yet.”

A part of John knew that he had to do something, but mostly
he didn’t give a damn about Drake Trent. If he died, then good riddance; if
Trent lived, John considered killing him.

“Where is he now?”

Dorsey looked a bit sheepish. “We have returned him across
the street, my lord. No one could stomach the idea of putting him in one of the
guest rooms after what he did to her ladyship. I hope I haven’t overstepped my
boundaries, sir.”

The butler probably had, but John couldn’t fault him. “You
were quite right to keep him out of my home, Dorsey. When the doctor finishes
with her ladyship, I will send him across the street.”

The butler puffed up a bit. “Very good, my lord.”

Footfalls on the stairs drew John’s attention. The doctor
descended, wiping his brow with a very white cloth.

“How is she?” John demanded.

“She will live, my lord. Your wife is very strong. She will
likely be unable to speak for a few days, and I recommend you keep her quiet
for at least a week. Her throat was badly bruised and needs to heal. Give her
paper and quill if she needs to communicate, but don’t let her talk. The rest
of her injuries are minor and your staff did a fine job warming her.”

John let out the breath he’d been holding. He thought he
heard Dorsey do the same, but didn’t spare a glance for the butler. “Thank you,
doctor.”

The doctor looked John up and down and particularly at his
hands. “If I may ask, my lord, how did her ladyship’s injuries occur?”

He ignored the implication. Of course the physician thought
he had done the deed. What else would he think? John could hear Dorsey bristle
behind him. “You will find the cause of my wife’s injuries across the street. I
would appreciate it if you would see to Drake Trent, and if you wouldn’t mind,
report back to us as to his state before you find your bed for the night.”

“Of course, my lord.”

A footman appeared with the doctor’s hat and coat.

John didn’t wait to see him out. He returned to the library.
Both his mother’s and Oliver’s heads turned as he entered. “She will be fine.”

“Oh John, thank God.”

Oliver ran across and jumped into John’s arms, hugging him
around the neck.

“You will have to be quiet around your sister for a few
days, Oliver. Do you think you can do that?” John’s voice was just slightly
stern.

“I can, my lord. I will be very quiet. May I see Sissy now?”

“I think we will let her sleep for now. You may see her
first thing in the morning.”

His eyes grew to big, blue saucers. “Before breaking my
fast?”

“If you wish, Oliver.” John laughed.

Margaret crossed the room. “Come, Oliver. Let us go and find
Nanny. We need to get you to bed so you are rested when you see Emma.”

John put the boy on his feet. Oliver took Margaret’s hand
and she touched John’s cheek. She and Oliver left in the direction of the
kitchen.

John took the stairs two at a time to get to Emma.

Her Aunt Fiona sat in a chair that had been pulled to the
bedside, while her maid, Jane, fussed with the covers and pillows.

They both turned as he entered the room.

Fiona’s eyes were red and dark rings marred the skin below
them. She did not rise from her chair. “You spoke to Doctor Bowman?”

“Yes. He told me that Emma will be fine.”

She nodded. “I don’t mind telling you that I was afraid for
her life. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so scared before.”

“Nor I,” he admitted.

“That will be all, Jane,” Fiona said. “Go and get some
sleep. Your lady will need you rested when she wakes in the morning.”

The maid looked as if she were going to protest, but thought
better of it and made a quick curtsy before leaving the room.

“Did Drake survive?” Fiona asked.

Emma had described her aunt as a very sweet, rather
eccentric old woman who cared for her cats more than people. When he had first
met her, just before the wedding, he was inclined to think Emma had captured
Fiona to a T. The past few hours had shown that her aging aunt was more than
she seemed.

“It does not look good for him.”

Fiona huffed. “Well that serves him right, terrorizing my
girl and that sweet boy. I tried to gain custody of the boy, you know?”

“No, I didn’t know.” John went and sat on the edge of the
bed across from Fiona.

She nodded. “The courts wouldn’t give me custody of Oliver,
because I’m not a blood relation, you see. I’m the sister of Emma’s mother. I
wanted them both to come to me in Plymouth, but Drake wouldn’t hear of letting
that boy out of his sight and Emma would never leave Oliver behind. Rightfully
so. Drake would have done the boy harm. I guess he proved that tonight.”

“Indeed,” John said. “I hope you will stay with us a while,
madam. I should hope at least until Emma is fully recovered.”

Fiona frowned deeply. “I will have to send a note to my
housekeeper, and the cats will be very put out.” She looked over at Emma’s
bruised, swollen face. “But I cannot leave her like this.”

He nodded. “You had better take your own advice then and go
and get some rest so that you are able to help Emma in the morning. I will stay
with her tonight.”

She stood, but then hesitated. “You will ring if you need
anything?”

“I will call you if there is a need.”

Fiona left the room and closed the door behind her.

John pulled off his shoes and climbed into the bed. He
pulled her gently against him and lightly kissed her battered cheek. “I’m so
sorry, my love. I should have been more careful. This is my fault. Why did I
assume all would be well once we were married?

Emma moaned and rolled toward his voice, opening the one eye
that was not swollen.

“Don’t try to move, darling. You are safe.” Joy burst in his
chest at the sight of her coming awake.

“What happened?” It came out as more of a croak.

“You are not to speak for at all for a few days. I will tell
you when you are better,” he said.

She tried to shake her head and winced. “Now.”

He was sure that it was meant to be a demand, but she had
only managed a whisper.

John smiled. He couldn’t help it. His happiness that, after
nearly losing her, she would be fine, shone on his face. He imagined he wore an
idiotic grin. “I still had the Bow Street runner watching your uncle.
Unfortunately, the man lost him for a time. He finally tracked him down in the
garden with you with only seconds to spare. He called out an alarm, waking the
household. After that, Trent went wild, and in the mayhem that followed, he was
badly injured.”

“Alive?”

“Stop talking. I will give you paper and quill in the
morning, but you mustn’t speak.” He continued, “As for Drake, it does not look
good.”

She closed her eyes.

“Go to sleep, Emma. We’ll know more in the morning.”

She barely nodded.

John wrapped her bruised body in his arms. With the pillows
high beneath his head, he could see her face as she relaxed and sleep took her.
It was not the fitful sleep that haunted her nights with regularity. This sleep
was peaceful and comfortable.