More than Passion (16 page)

It took him a moment to catch his breath. He pushed up to a sitting position and shook his head, then looked frantically for Becca. He spotted her near the wrought-iron gate, less than five feet away from where he sat. She lay on her side, perfectly still. He scrambled over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him. Her eyes were closed and there were scratches on her face.

“Becca?” She didn’t answer. “Becca!”

She didn’t open her eyes. The commotion had everyone out of their houses, murmuring and speculating on the event and the victims.

Geoffrey’s butler, Miles, opened the front door, shock on his usually dour face. “My lord?”

Geoffrey turned his head sharply. “Go fetch the doctor, Miles,” he commanded. “Now!”

The man ran off to do his master’s bidding. Geoffrey scooped Becca up in his arms and carried her into the house. She was as limp as a rag doll in his arms. “Oh, God, no,” he breathed.

He carried her into the parlor. “Mother!”

Lady Margaret rushed into the room. “Geoffrey, what is it? Oh, my!”

He laid Becca gently on the settee and brushed her hair away from her battered face. “Becca, please wake up.” He swallowed thickly. “Please.” He knelt beside her and buried his face in her lap. “Don’t leave me, Becca.” He choked back a sob. “I only just found you.”

He stayed that way for several minutes, silently praying that she’d come back to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother wringing her hands.

At last, Becca stirred. Her hand brushed over the back of his head. “Geoffrey?” she whispered.

His head shot up, his gaze flying to her face. He grabbed her shoulders. “Becca!”

He rained kisses on her face and stroked her hair. “I thought I lost you, love,” he said brokenly.

She favored him with a weak smile.

“I love you, Becca.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “I’ve loved you for so very long.”

He hugged her to him and she let out a gasp of pain. He quickly laid her back down. “I’m sorry, love. Are you all right?”

“I … think so.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” a voice said from the doorway.

Geoffrey turned to find Dr. Morgan standing there. He was an older man, with white hair and merry blue eyes, and Geoffrey had never been so glad to see a person in his life.

“Kane,” the doctor said, taking charge. “Give your wife some air, for heaven’s sake.”

Geoffrey stepped back and allowed him to examine her.

Dr. Morgan smiled down at Becca. “Had yourself a bit of excitement today, Lady Kanewood?”

She nodded. The doctor examined her face, noting the scratches on her cheeks and forehead.

“I’ll get some warm water and cloths to clean those scratches,” announced Lady Margaret as she left the room.

The doctor nodded approvingly. He felt her head and located a sizeable lump on the right side. He probed it gently with his fingers and Becca winced in response.

“Does that hurt?” the doctor asked.

“Just a bit,” she answered.

He looked into her eyes then and after carefully examining them, smiled. “Your eyes are clear.” He turned to Geoffrey, “I want her to have complete rest, Kane. If her head pains her, use a compress. Or try some brandy. I’ll stop by to check on her in the morning.”

Geoffrey nodded at the instructions. “Thank you.”

“Dr. Morgan, would you care to stay for some tea?” Lady Margaret asked as she walked back into the room with water and cloths.

“Yes, thank you.” He smiled. “I’d enjoy a visit.”

Geoffrey took the tray from his mother, “I can do that, Mother—you see to Dr. Morgan’s tea.” She gave her son a reassuring smile that all would be well and squeezed Becca’s hand, then turned and escorted Dr. Morgan down the hall to the library.

 Geoffrey carefully cleaned Becca’s cuts and abrasions, a worried frown on his face.

“I’m not going to break, Geoffrey,” Becca said gently. “I’m going to be all right. You heard Dr. Morgan.”

“I could have lost you,” he said in a shaky voice. He briefly carressed her face, then gingerly lifted her into his arms to carry her upstairs. He dropped kisses on her hair, and her face, as he carefully laid her on the bed. Mary stood close by, anxiously waiting to see to her mistress’s comfort.

Geoffrey permitted Mary to fuss over Becca, taking the time to splash some water on his face and try to collect himself. He’d never been so frightened in his entire life. When he recalled that moment out on the sidewalk, an indescribable pain settled in the pit of his stomach. She’d been so still. He savagely pushed the thought away.

With Becca changed into her nightgown and wrapper, Mary left them. Geoffrey walked over to the bed. She lay propped up by a half-a-dozen pillows, her hair fanned out around her. Her face was pale, red scratches standing out on her forehead and right cheek. She looked vulnerable but so beautiful to him.

He sat next to her. “How are you feeling, love?”

“I’m tired, Geoffrey.”

He kissed her and pulled back to stare into her eyes. “I love you, Becca.”

Her brow creased. “Do you mean it?” she asked, using the words he had when she’d first made her declaration to him.

He hugged her gently. “Yes,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I only realized it—”

“Today?” she finished for him.

He shook his head. “No. Last night.”

She nodded and her eyes drifted closed. The sweetest smile curved her lips as she drifted off to sleep. How could he not have known that he’d loved her all this time? She was everything to him.

He settled himself in a chair and watched her sleep.
Thank you, God.

Becca slept for nearly two hours. When she stirred and whispered her husband’s name, he came to stand by the bed. “What is it, love?”

She stared up at him, a small smile on her face. “What time is it?”

“Nearly the dinner hour. Are you hungry?”

“I suppose I could eat a bit of something.”

“Why don’t I have the cook make some soup for you? And maybe some biscuits?”

She nodded.

Geoffrey brought up the supper tray himself. They shared their meal, though Geoffrey had roast beef along with his soup.

By the time Becca’s bowl was empty, her eyelids looked heavy. Geoffrey removed the tray and helped her off with her robe. He bent his head to kiss her, brushing her lips very lightly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m not made of glass.”

He straightened and looked down at her. She did look fragile to him then, and that horrible pain in his stomach returned. He sat next to her and hugged her tightly. “I love you.”

She glowed, obviously pleased to hear those words again, then turned on her left side to snuggle into her pillow. “You love me,” he heard her whisper.

He brushed her hair from her face and kissed her temple, ever-mindful of that angry-looking lump. “Always,” he whispered back.

She sighed and drifted off to sleep.

He quietly closed the door and went downstairs to his study. There he poured himself a brandy and took a big swallow of it. He buried his face in his hands and reviewed the horrific events of the afternoon. Something about the runaway carriage nagged at the back of his mind, but when he tried to ponder it further, it danced away from him. Perhaps in the morning, when he was over the shock of nearly losing Becca, he’d be able to figure it out. He finished his drink and climbed the stairs to their chamber.

Somewhere around midnight, Becca sat bolt upright, a soft cry escaping her. Geoffrey came awake immediately and saw her eyes were wide, fear swirling in their depths.

“Becca?” he whispered.

She stared right through him.

He grasped her shoulders. “Becca, love, wake up!”

She blinked then, finally seeing him. “Geoffrey!” She sobbed and clutched at him. “The carriage was … was ….”

“Shh, love.” He rubbed her back. “It was just a bad dream. You’re all right now.”

She gave a small nod  and sagged against him. Murmuring soft endearments in her ear, he laid back down. She took a long time to fall asleep, hiccuping now and then as her sobs quieted. He stroked her back, puzzling anew over the runaway carriage.

The next morning, he was awakened in the most pleasing fashion. Becca was sprawled on top of him, placing little kisses on his throat, his chest. He stretched and wrapped his arms around her.

She came up to kiss his mouth. “Good morning, husband.”

“Mmm,” he answered. “Good morning, love.”

She shifted to lay against his side, trailing her fingers lightly over his chest. He closed his eyes again, still not fully awake. That changed quickly when he felt her hand grasp him.

“What are you about?”

She ran her lips over his neck, nibbling on his ear. “I want my husband to make love to me.”

With a groan, he stilled her hand. “Love, the doctor said that you need rest.”

She folded her hands on his chest and placed her chin on them. “But I’ve rested enough, Geoffrey.”

He smiled, wanting her as much as she wanted him. “I’d like nothing more than to spend the morning making love to my beautiful wife.” He kissed her lightly. “But until the doctor tells me everything is all right, I won’t do anything that might hurt you.”

She nodded. “Will you speak to Dr. Morgan today?”

“Yes. But I daresay it won’t be an easy thing for me to ask.”

She wore a look of worry. “Geoffrey, would you ever tell anyone what we … that is, how we make love?”

He was shocked by her question and shook his head firmly. “What we do in the privacy of our bedroom ….” He grinned wickedly and added, “or in the carriage, or out riding, or ….”

She swatted his shoulder. “Geoffrey!”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “No, love,” he finished. “I’d never speak of such matters with anyone.”

She smiled then, obviously relieved.

“Becca, why would you think that I—”

A knock at the door interrupted him. It was one of the servants, announcing that Dr. Morgan was calling to check on Lady Kanewood. Becca donned her robe and pulled up the covers, waiting for the doctor’s entrance. Geoffrey sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Becca’s gasp of shock stilled him.

“Geoffrey, what happened to your back?”

He tried in vain to look over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Your back.” She caressed him lightly. “It’s badly bruised.”

He nodded then. “It must have happened when I fell yesterday.”

She wrapped her arms around him and placed feather-light kisses on his tender flesh. He turned and hugged her to him, kissing her deeply. Reluctantly, he dragged his mouth from hers. With a sigh, he pulled away and stepped into his dressing room. He hastily dressed and went downstairs to fetch the doctor.

Dr. Morgan felt the bump on Becca’s head, pleased to announce that it had shrunken quite a bit.

“Did you sleep well, Lady Kanewood?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I did awaken once during the night. I had a bad dream about the accident.”

“Such things are to be expected. All looks very well. Please call for me if you have any discomfort.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she said.

Geoffrey accompanied him to the door and held him back for a moment. He looked at Becca and turned back to the doctor. “May we resume our, um, marital relations?” he asked softly.

“Of course. Just take care.”

“Always.”

After the doctor left, Geoffrey couldn’t help flashing her a huge grin. The answering blush on her cheeks was all the proof he needed that the love of his life was also his perfect match.

Chapter 17

When Geoffrey arrived belowstairs, Miles announced that Lord Chester awaited him in his study. He entered the study to find Chester looking out the window.

“Chester, what brings you out so early in the day?”

“Good morning, Kane.” Chester faced him. “I’ve been known to rise a bit before tea time every once in a while.”

“Yes, once in a great while.”

Chester’s usually jovial expression turned serious. “I heard about the accident. How is Rebecca?”

“She’s going to be fine, thank God.” He sat behind his desk. “I don’t mind telling you I nearly died when I thought I’d lost her.”

“Did you get a good look at the carriage, Kane?”

“No. It all happened so fast. It was as if it came out of nowhere.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“What you thought? What are you getting at, Chester?”

Chester frowned as he collected his thoughts, causing a spark of alarm to strike Geoffrey.

“Speak your mind, man.”

“When I heard of yesterday’s accident, my curiosity was piqued. I took the liberty of looking into it further.”

“And what did you find?”

“Not much, I fear. Just up the street no one reported anything out of the ordinary. And if the carriage was as out of control as you say—”

“It was.”

Chester held his hand up to still him. “If the carriage was indeed out of control, how was it able to turn the corner so smoothly as it reached the end of the street?”

Geoffrey felt a chill go through him. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t think yesterday’s accident was precisely an accident.”

Geoffrey jumped to his feet. “Rebecca could have been killed!”

“Or you.”

Geoffrey blinked at his friend’s statement. He slumped back into his chair. “But who would want me dead?”

“I think this is somehow connected to the missing funds.”

“Not possible.”

“Do think for a moment. Is Rebecca usually with you during the day?”

“No, she’s usually here at the house. Why?”

“That would confirm my suspicions that you were the target.”

Geoffrey raked his fingers through his hair. “But I still don’t understand why.”

“Kane, I found out yesterday that someone has indeed been passing notes in your name.”

“My solicitors had told me that several notes had reached them over the past few weeks,” Geoffrey said. “They were written for small amounts but were numerous. The firm presumed they were from me, unusual though they were. Do we know yet who has been passing them?”