Rebel Dreams (14 page)

“Bloody, thrice-damned idiot!” Alex grabbed his aching
head and sank back upon the pillow, squeezing his eyes closed against the
throbbing pain. “Damnation!” he muttered, cursing under his breath while
groping for the brandy that was usually on the table when he woke with a head
like this.

He hadn’t had a headache like this since the morning he had
woken to remember hiring a band of thieves to kidnap his cousin Alyson. One of
the low points of his life, admittedly, although his intentions had been
honorable. He thought.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to remember the train
of events that had set off this spree. He had a high tolerance for alcohol and always
remembered the night before. Humiliating memories were the only thing that kept
him from going off the deep end. The headache was degrading enough.

Oddly, he had no recollection of so much as taking a drop.
That was a bad sign.

“Are you awake yet or do you always grimace in your sleep?”

Bigad, that seductive voice was unforgettable. Alex groaned
again, remembering Evelyn’s shocked face in the door of his room last night.
Devil take it, surely he hadn’t dragged her in with his doxie. The thought of
the hell to pay had he done the unpardonable caused Alex to grope across the
bed in search of her.

His hand found only the bed edge. He pried his eyes open
again and met concerned violet eyes. His breath caught at the sight. He quickly
ascertained that she was dressed and didn’t appear prepared to kill him, and he
let out his breath again.

She set the tray down on the table beside the bed. “I’ve
brought you some apple juice. I wasn’t sure if you would be ready to eat yet.”

Alex covered his eyes with his hand and felt the coarseness
of a day’s worth of whiskers on his cheeks. “I don’t suppose it’s fermented?”
he muttered with little hope.

“Not yet. It’s too early in the season.” She poured the
juice and stood uncertainly at his bedside. “The doctor said we must keep
waking you every few hours. I’m sorry if it hurts your head. He left some
powder for the pain. Shall I mix it in the juice for you?”

Doctor. Alex tested his head, finding the bandage held to
his forehead by strips of cloth. Things were clearer, if not better. “What the
hell happened?”

Evelyn lowered herself to the edge of his covers. “From what
I’ve been able to determine, you and some friends of yours attacked a mob. It
wasn’t particularly sensible, but I thank you for it. They would have carried
off half my warehouse if you hadn’t arrived when you did.”

He remembered now, and he groaned. The
Minerva
had
sailed without him. More fool he. The soft scent of a summery fragrance
enveloped him as Evelyn nervously rearranged his covers. He felt the familiar
stirring in his loins that had got him into more trouble in his lifetime than
he dared admit.

Alex caught her arm and held it as he tried opening his eyes
again. His thoughts couldn’t focus on anything but the incredible discovery
that they were alone and he was decidedly naked beneath this sheet. If his head
didn’t hurt so damned much, he’d take advantage of the situation, but he didn’t
think his proper Evelyn would willingly undress and accommodate him. Rather
than endure the pain from two locations, he chose to get rid of the source of
one.

“Well, if you have come to reward me for my bravery, you’ll
have to find a better time. My head hurts like hell.”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil your reputation by commending you,”
she replied tartly. “I just thought I’d keep you from dying on our hands and
having to dispose of the body. The juice is on the table should you wish it. I’ll
be going now.”

She tried to shake off his imprisoning hand, but Alex couldn’t
seem to send her on her way. He wondered if she always looked this good in the
early morning or if he were receiving special treatment. Deciding the latter
was unlikely, he banished the image of how she would look with that roll of
lovely hair loose and tumbling about her shoulders.

“Where are we?” he demanded.

“My mother had you brought to our house so we could look
after you until you’re well. Are you well yet, Mr. Hampton?”

The note of irritation almost made him smile. Almost. His
testy Evelyn wasn’t out to win any awards for congeniality, but she couldn’t
disguise the worry in her eyes, nor her nervousness as his fingers circled her
wrist. He hadn’t had anyone look at him with concern since he was a lad in
leading strings. He rather liked the feeling, actually. Closing his eyes, he
kept her wrist caught in the circle of his hand.

“Not yet, Miss Wellington. I think it may well be a long
time before I recover. I don’t suppose you sing lullabies, do you?”

***

Evelyn stifled a laugh at her patient’s outrageousness.
She didn’t understand why he did most of the things he did, but she knew a play
for sympathy when she heard one. Daringly she pressed a kiss against his
bristly cheek and whispered next to his ear, “If you don’t recover soon, I’ll
have to marry you just to protect my reputation. I wish you speedy recovery,
Mr. Hampton.”

She freed herself and made a strategic retreat. She would
not so easily forget what kind of rake he was after last night’s unpleasantry
at the inn, but she had to forgive a man who had saved her livelihood.

After that early-morning visit, Evelyn walked down to the
wharf to start the task of cleaning up the debris from the prior night, leaving
her mother to tend to Alex. Troops of militia with grim expressions patrolled
the streets, surveying the damage. Evelyn contemplated checking on her uncle
but didn’t have the heart for it.

Everyone was eager to gossip, and before she reached the
wharf she had a good grasp of the extent of the destruction. After emptying the
wine cellars at her uncle’s and the judge’s, the mob had congregated at
Lieutenant Governor Hutchinson’s. They had torn his exquisite home to the
ground, complete to the manuscript he had been working on. The house where she
and Alex had danced not many nights before no longer existed.

Shuddering at the thought of what might have happened had
Alex not drawn off the small mob at the warehouse, Evelyn set to work with a
will. There was no sign that the
Minerva
meant to return for Alex. She
wondered about that, but until he was in some condition to speak sensibly, she
would not know.

The entire day had a lingering unreality to it. Her aunt and
cousin were on the way to England. The man who should have gone was still here,
in their guest room. After a night of rioting, the town seemed subdued, and the
troops patrolling the streets added uneasiness. Home was no longer home
anymore, but a battlefield, with people she loved taking opposite sides.

Unable to deal with this mixture of emotions, Evelyn
concentrated on work and hurried home at the end of the day with a deliberately
blank mind. She bathed and ate and, unable to relax, offered to sit up with
their patient when her mother began to yawn.

Amanda looked doubtful at the suggestion but nodded. “He has
slept most of the day. I just changed the bandage. If you would look in on him
occasionally to see that he doesn’t run a fever, it should be all right. I left
some food warming in case he wakes. You might see to the fire.”

Doing as told, Evelyn then curled up with a book and a
candle in her bedroom chair. Leaving her door slightly ajar, she could hear any
noises from the bedroom down the hall. Jacob’s room was just across from the
guest room, but Jacob slept like one of the dead. He would be virtually useless
should Alex wake and call out.

Not that she expected Alex to do anything so sensible as
calling out should he need food or water or medicine. She rather expected he
would wake as he had that morning, cursing. She wondered if that were his
normal way of waking. She hoped he lived alone, if so.

After the blow he had received, he really should have looked
more ill and helpless than he did. Instead, he had looked startlingly strong
and healthy. And grubby. She smiled to herself, remembering how his usually
neatly tied hair curled about his face from beneath the bandage, adding to the
piratical image of his unshaven heavy black whiskers. The noble dandy would
have a proper fit if he could see himself now.

Deciding she’d better check to see if he was still
breathing, she laid her book aside and slipped down the hall.

She found Alex lying with hands behind head, staring at the
limited view of the sky from the window beside his bed. When she entered, he
watched her, but he didn’t smile or greet her in any way. Worried, Evelyn
daringly lay the back of her hand against his cheek to test for fever.

“I’m fine. My head still hurts, but it’s not likely to rot
off anytime soon. I thought everyone was asleep.”

He didn’t catch her hand or make the usual insinuating
suggestions or even look at her boldly. Really worried now, Evelyn clasped her
hands and admired the exceedingly masculine face on the pillow. When he had his
hair tied in a satin bow and wore lace at his throat, he looked the part of
English dandy well enough. Like this, bare-chested and with his jaw unshaven,
she couldn’t place him in that slot. He was a man, pure and simple.

“Only good people sleep, I guess,” she said. “Would you like
something to eat? Mama says you haven’t eaten all day.”

That stirred his interest. “I’m starved, but I don’t want to
cause anyone any trouble. If there’s some bread or cheese lying about . . .”

Evelyn stared at him with incredulity. “You really are ill,
aren’t you? Perhaps I should call the doctor. It might not be wise to feed you
too much if you’re starting a fever.”

Alex looked shocked, before he recognized her sarcasm. He grinned.
“Would you feel better if I cursed and demanded my supper and threatened to get
up and get it if you didn’t go to fetch it right now?”

Mesmerized by the sight of that charming grin he so seldom
used, Evelyn answered with the first thought in her head. “I’d think you fully
recovered and tell you to get it yourself, which would be a dreadful mistake.”
Her gaze swept knowingly over his sheet-covered nudity. “Obviously you are not
yourself yet, so I will fetch for you. This time.”

She heard his chuckle as she swept out of the room, and she
blushed at her own temerity. What was it about Alexander Hampton that made her
act like a wanton in his presence? She was a modest person, accustomed to
working with men, not flirting with them. Alex brought out a side of her that
she hadn’t known existed. It was a pleasurable, exciting feeling, but dangerous
to her well-being.

When she returned with the tray, she found Alex sitting on
the side of the bed. He had somehow contrived to get to the wardrobe. Her mother
had ordered his clothing transferred from the inn earlier in the day. He now
wore breeches and a maroon dressing robe that did not significantly disguise
the breadth of his chest or the dark hair there. She avoided looking at him as
she set the tray down on the table.

“That smells delicious. Don’t tell me I’m not limited to
rations of bread and water.” He didn’t attempt to rise as she entered, but sat
up with one hand propped on the bed behind him.

“Not in my mother’s house. She is thrilled to death to have
another man to dote on, although I believe last night she might have hit you
over the head if someone else hadn’t beaten her to it.” Evelyn handed Alex a
napkin and hovered uncertainly. Propriety called for her to leave, but she
found it difficult to do. She wanted to stay and talk with him, hear his view
of the past night’s events.

Alex solved the problem by waiting for her to sit down
before he touched the food. When she took the wooden chair near the table, he
reached for the mug on the tray and drank deeply, then spluttered and set it
aside.

He gave her an accusing glare. “Milk? Apple juice this
morning and milk tonight? Are you trying to poison me?”

Evelyn smiled at this return of his normal ill humor. “On
the contrary, the doctor says it will wash the poisons from your body. As long
as your head continues to hurt and you need the powders, he advises against
alcohol. So you will have to heal rapidly.”

He gave her cheerful expression a murderous glare. “Your
mother wants to dote on me when she doesn’t want to beat me over the head, and
you’re doing your best to get rid of me. Are things always so agreeable around
this house?”

“We get along.” She waited for him to begin eating. It didn’t
seem fair to keep him talking when he must be starving, but it was a trifle
awkward sitting silent while she sat in a nearly naked man’s bedroom watching
him eat.

When it became apparent he was more interested in the food
than in her, she started to rise. “I’ll leave you to your meal, then. Good
night.”

Alex scowled and motioned for her to sit down. “Not so fast.
I’m still waiting to hear why your mother wanted to beat me over the head but
changed her mind. There are a few other questions I have in mind also, but
first things first.” He leaned back on his hand again, studying her as he
sipped gingerly at the milk.

Evelyn debated the wisdom of remaining, but he seemed weak
enough not to be dangerous. She could tell from the small frown above his eyes
that his head still hurt, and he was still unsteady enough to have to balance
himself. She stayed seated.

“You didn’t really think she would be pleased to idle away
in your room while a mob threatened her children, did you? You could have given
her a weapon or two, and she would have been right at your side, probably
preventing that nasty blow you took.”

He lifted his brows in astonishment. “Are all females over
here so intrepid? My mother would have fainted and had to be carried away
before we even reached the wharf.”

“This isn’t London. We do things for ourselves here. We don’t
have footmen to send out to see what’s happening. As it was, Mama recognized
several of the men in the tavern and made them come with her, but you seemed to
have done well on your own. I thought your men sailed with the
Minerva.
Whom did you have helping you?” Evelyn couldn’t help asking; her curiosity had
been held in check too long.