The Player (Rockliffe Book 3) (37 page)

Caroline felt her colour rising.
 
She said, ‘That is uncommonly kind, of
you.
 
I am at a loss to know why you
should do so much for us.’

‘If it helps, I will admit to having an ulterior
motive.’

‘And what is that, your Grace?’

‘I think my Adeline would like you.
 
I also think she would enjoy seeing Adrian
play Moli
è
re, if he
could be persuaded to do so,’ came the bland reply. Then, with a particularly
charming smile, ‘And most people call me Rock.’

~
 
*
 
*
 
~
 
*
 
*
 
~

She found Betsy in chair by hearth with her
knitting and Adrian asleep in a tangle of sheets.

‘Has he woken at all?’ she asked.

‘Oh yes – and as sulky as a bear, he was too,’
came the soft-voiced but perfectly cheerful reply. ‘He thought I was going to
bring him a couple of chops and a mug of ale, then threatened to fetch them
himself when I told him all he was getting was a cup of beef tea and a bit of
egg custard.’

Caroline stifled a laugh.

‘You obviously won that battle.’

‘I said if he wanted to be up and about again
sooner rather than later, he’d do as he was bid.
 
So he ate what I gave him and settled down
again – though he didn’t seem very well-pleased when I said you were supping
with the Duke.’
 
Betsy folded up her
knitting and stood up. ‘I daresay you’ll want to stay with him yourself now, my
lady. He’ll probably sleep for a good long while because I slipped one of my
powders into his hot milk. Are we to send for the doctor in the morning?’

‘I think so, yes.’
 
Caroline glanced down at her gown and said, ‘If I take this off, do you
think Sally might be able to do something with it?’

‘I’ll see to it myself, my lady.
 
You just get yourself changed so as you can
settle down in comfort.
 
It might be a
long night.’

*
 
*
 
*

The hours passed slowly and, throughout most of
them, Adrian barely stirred.
 
Wrapped in
a chamber-robe, Caroline sat by the fire, yawning over
Clarissa.
 
Though it didn’t
help that she’d picked up Volume Two by mistake, the main problem was the man
sleeping a few feet away.
 
The man who,
just a little while ago, had said,
I was
going to ask if you’d consider sharing my bed
.

She tried reminding herself that he’d been mildly
drunk when he said it; then she pointed out that a man would naturally expect
to sleep with his bride on their wedding-night. Neither of these sobering
reflections helped.
 
He wanted her.
 
And if the day had turned out differently,
she’d be lying with him right now.

She looked at the bed.
 
It was large and Adrian was only occupying
half of it.
 
Surely it wouldn’t hurt to
lie down at the far edge and sleep for a little while?
 

Don’t lie to
yourself and stop making excuses
, said a sardonic voice in her head.
You just want to be near him. You want to
reach out and touch his hand. You want to watch him wake up, fuddled with sleep
and utterly beautiful.
 
So do it.
 
It’s not as though you haven’t been invited.

She uncoiled from the chair and crossed slowly
towards the bed.
 
Very, very carefully so
as not to disturb the covers, she lay down, one arm underneath her head, facing
him.
 
She looked at the tousled brown
hair, the long dark eyelashes and the softness of his mouth in repose.
 
She thought,
I could look at you forever and never be tired of it.
 
Why did it take me so long to realise?

She was still wondering that when she slid into
sleep.

*
 
*
 
*

Adrian awoke slowly and became gradually aware of
three things.
 
His head hurt, his
shoulder felt as though a red-hot poker had been rammed through it and someone
was holding his hand.
 
Very cautiously,
he opened his eyes.

Caroline was fast asleep amidst a cascade of
rippling, honey-blond hair. It spilled over the pillow, coiled around her neck
and one long strand had drifted across her nose, making it twitch.
 
Despite his physical ills, Adrian found
himself grinning.
 
Gently slipping his
fingers from hers, he reached out and brushed the annoying lock aside.
 
She made a tiny snuffling sound and burrowed
a little deeper into the pillow.
 
He
became aware that the ribbons of her robe had loosened during the night and
were providing him with a very interesting view that the parts of his body
which didn’t hurt appreciated more than was appropriate, given the circumstances.
 

Damn
.

The most sensible thing, he decided, would be for
him to get up and leave Caroline to sleep.
 
Unfortunately, that presented him with certain difficulties.
 
He had vague recollections of Bertrand
spoiling his brandy-induced haze in order to remove what was left of his
clothing.
 
A brief exploration beneath
the sheet told him that, in certain respects, Bertrand had been very thorough …
a glance about the room showed him that, in others, he’d been less so because there
was no sign of the dressing-robe that usually lay on a nearby chair. It was
probably hanging tidily in the closet. And Caroline was lying on top of the
bed-covers.

Double damn
.

There was no way he was going to risk her opening
her eyes to see him tripping across the room in the buff and randy as a
schoolboy – which meant staying precisely where he was until she woke up.

Well, there were ways to speed that process.

Not like
that, you idiot.
 
Focus on something else,
can’t you?

Reaching out, he took one silky tress and drew it
lightly across her lips.
 
Her brows
contracted briefly and she blew it away.
 
Adrian smiled and did it again.
 
This time, her hand came up to bat his away and her wrist connected with
his.
 
With a small, annoyed sound, she
opened her eyes to squint at him … and was suddenly wide awake.

‘
Oh!
’
 
She shot upright and immediately realised how
much of her was showing.
 
Pulling
helplessly at her robe, most of which she was sitting on, she said, ‘I’m
sorry.
 
I didn’t mean to fall
asleep.
 
Did I wake you?
 
How is your shoulder?’
 
And, swinging her feet to the floor, ‘I’ll go
and call Bertrand, shall I?’

‘Stop,’ said Adrian calmly.
 
‘Just stop for a moment.
 
You didn’t wake me; my shoulder hurts like
hell, thank you; and, if you’ll be so good as to get my robe from the closet, I
don’t need Bertrand for the moment.’

‘Yes.
 
Of
course.’
 
Scarlet-cheeked with what part
of her brain told her was perfectly needless embarrassment, Caroline all but
flew across the room. ‘I’ve no idea what the time is but I’m sure I ought to be
dressed by now.’ She produced a luxuriously patterned gold and black robe.
 
‘Is this it?’

‘Yes.’
 
He
waited until she came to lay the garment across his lap and then, catching hold
of her wrist, drew her down to sit beside him. ‘Take a breath, will you?
 
Everything will wait for another ten
minutes.
 
And it’s rather nice finding
you beside me when I wake.’

‘Is it?
 
Oh.
 
Good.’

Had it not been for the feeling inside him that
had been growing for some days now … a feeling that, for years, he’d told
himself
 
wouldn’t – couldn’t – happen
again, he might have laughed.
 
As it was,
he toyed with her fingers and said, ‘This hasn’t been the best start, has
it?
 
I hope you’ll trust me to make it
better.’

‘None of what happened yesterday was your fault.’

‘Even so.’

She sensed something in him that she didn’t
understand and couldn’t concentrate on while his thumb was making lazy circles
on her palm and his hair was falling loose around his neck. She looked at the
bandages lying white and stark against his skin and, for want of something
better, said, ‘His Grace is impatient to get home to his wife and will probably
wish to take his leave of you first. But Bertrand will fetch the doctor, so you
should remain in bed until he’s been.’

Seeing the confusion in her, Adrian tugged
slightly at her hand and pulled her a little closer.
 
His voice low and soft, he said, ‘Anything
else?’

‘No.
 
Yes.
 
The Duke has invited us to spend a few days at his home so no one will
be able to guess we eloped.
 
That’s
thoughtful of him, isn’t it?’

‘Very.’
 
His
eyes dropped from hers to linger on her mouth.
 
‘And Nicholas?’

‘Nicholas?’
 
Caroline’s breath started to shorten and a number of unfamiliar
sensations were taking place inside her.
 
‘Nicholas. Yes.
 
He found Lord
Sheringham in Deal and the Lord Warden’s locked him up in Walmer Castle.
 
He’ll probably want to see you, as
well.’
 
It was becoming very difficult to
think. ‘The Lord Warden, that is.’

‘I think I understood that.’
 
Another little tug brought her within reach
of his good arm so he used it to draw her all the way against him.
 
‘Is that everything?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’
 

He nuzzled her ear, heard her breath catch and was
just about to kiss her when the door opened.
 
Caroline sprang to her feet, straightening her robe.

Stopping dead on the threshold with a breakfast
tray in his hands, Bertrand grinned and said, ‘Looks like you’re feeling
livelier this morning.
 
Wonderful what a
night’s rest will do, isn’t it?’

Smiling pleasantly, Adrian told his friend, in the
vernacular, what he could do with himself.

‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ came the unabashed reply.
‘In the meantime, the Duke wants a word before he leaves and Lord Nicholas is
asking whether it’ll inconvenience you if he stays on for a while.’

‘It won’t – and we should stop doing this.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Rattling on in French when we’re not alone.’
 
Switching to English, he said, ‘My apologies,
Caroline.
 
That was rude and won’t happen
again.
 
Nick wants to stay after his
brother leaves.
 
Will that be all right
with you?’

Caroline said briskly, ‘Lord Nicholas can stay as
long as he likes. And now – before any other visitors arrive – I’m going to
dress.’

Adrian stretched and lay down, every muscle a
deliberate invitation.

‘You’ll be back later, though.
 
Won’t you?’

‘When the doctor comes,’ she nodded.
 
And was gone.

Adrian met his friend’s knowing gaze and said
irritably, ‘Your timing is bloody awful, you know. In fact, I’m tempted to
wonder if it isn’t deliberate.’

*
 
*
 
*

His Grace of Rockliffe spent roughly fifteen
minutes with Lord Sarre prior to taking his leave of her ladyship and departing
for home.
 
He repeated his invitation to
Wynstanton Priors, along with his reasons for offering it.
 
Then he spoke with what, for him, was unusual
bluntness about Marcus Sheringham.
 
At
the end of it and whilst waiting for the doctor, Adrian drank a second cup of
coffee, ate a piece of toast and sat frowning into space while he tried to
decide what he wanted to do.

The doctor was pleased to approve the Duke’s handiwork
and seemed relieved not to have been asked to do the job himself.
 
He pronounced the wound clean, said he saw no
sign of infection and condemned the Earl to spending at least one more day in
bed.
 
Then he left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, his
lordship informed Bertrand that he wanted a bath and a shave.
 
After some argument, he was finally allowed to
have his way and soak some of his aches away in a tub of hot water.
 
There was another argument when he insisted
on putting on a pair of breeches under his dressing-robe.
 
Again, Bertrand gave way but said, ‘And
that’s it.
 
If you think you can pull a
shirt over your head without damaging your shoulder, think again.
 
Now lie down before you fall down. You lost a
lot of blood yesterday and you’re as white as a damned sheet.’

By the time Caroline re-appeared, it was mid-morning
and he’d made a number of decisions.
 
As
soon as she entered the room, he said, ‘As Rock no doubt told you, I accepted
his invitation. We’ll leave the day after tomorrow, if that suits you.’

She thought of the state of her wardrobe and a
Duchess who’d been described as the most elegant woman in London. If she hadn’t
more important things to think of, she might have despaired.

‘Yes.
 
But
only if you’re well enough.’

‘I’ll be well enough before that – but there are
other matters requiring my attention before we go.’
 
He smiled at her to disguise what kind of
matters these might be and added, ‘Also, when I bought the gown you wore
yesterday, I ordered three others which are supposed to be delivered
tomorrow.
 
In case you were wondering
what on earth you’re going to wear whilst staying in a ducal household.’