Wicked Proposition (31 page)

“The fact you look for her at all tells me you
know you can see past whatever she has done, my son,” Arianne
replied with a smile. “I think that answers your question.”

“What do I offer her now?” he said moodily and
stared glumly out the window. “A divorce is out of the question. I
can’t do that to the child. The courts would hardly approve it
now.”

“Offer her only yourself, Gabriel,” Arianne
supplied helpfully. “If she loves you as I think she does, she
won’t need marriage to keep her with you. Have a bit more faith
than that.”

Gabriel nodded and grasped her tiny hand and
squeezed it, his private thoughts causing a heavy tightening in his
chest so it was difficult to breathe. She sat close to his side
during the drive. She held his hand as though he was still a small
boy and not a large man. She comforted him during the ride to
Iverleigh Manor and he appreciated her there.

When they entered the manor, his servants
informed him the Countess was well. Farnham had departed after
being assured the Countess and his son were doing fine. A son! He
had a son! His heart swelled with pride and he took the stairs two
at a time to the nursery where a wet nurse was feeding his son.

He touched the golden head gently and smiled
tenderly as he was handed the tiny bundle.

Arianne entered behind him and tears filled her
dark eyes as she watched her son kiss the tiny brow and cuddle the
bundle to his chest. The wet nurse collected her things and
departed with them within the hour. Gabriel did not bother to go to
see Lillianne. She had a hollow victory this day. He hoped the loss
of her child ate at her, though he doubted the woman gave two figs
for the tiny baby he held in his arms.

He soon passed the boy off to his eager
grandmother. They made ready to leave. The nurse arrived in the
foyer with her things, and they left for his residence to show off
the baby.

Giles was his name, after Gabriel’s own father.
He was surprisingly pleased with the name, despite Lillianne having
chosen it. Arianne looked down at the baby and looked up at him
with love in her eyes.

“He looks like you! He has your chin, my son. I
have no doubt this child is yours. I remember the day you were born
like it was yesterday. Look, he has your feet as well!” she said
excitedly and expressed the child was utterly perfect.

“You are biased, mother dear,” Gabriel said
dryly and his dark eyes held warmth as he too looked at the tiny
face that mirrored his own. He was pleased he didn’t have to
question the child’s parentage, in light of Lillianne’s infidelity.
“It would appear my son is but one day old and a paragon.”

Arianne made a face at Gabriel’s sarcastic
comment and cooed at her grandson, delighted the child slowly
opened his eyes. His eyes appeared blue as all newborns did, but
she knew they would be dark like his father’s as he grew. He chewed
on his fist and she handed him over to the nurse in the coach,
believing the little master was hungry again.

###

Catherine woke up on the sixth day at sea.
Tulley rushed above deck to inform him. Nicholas gave the wheel
over to Tieghan and disappeared below to question Catherine.

He was unprepared for how pale she appeared, or
the dark bruising under her hollowed stare. She was propped up
against the pillows and appeared to be staring out at sea, her
expression vacant. Nicholas stood over her and was disturbed by her
lack of response when he said her name. Tulley looked perplexed as
well. He said her name again and grasped her chin, bringing her
face to his. He saw no recognition and no indication she was aware
of anything around her. The green eyes that once sparkled with life
and vitality were flat and devoid of light.

“What is wrong with her, Tulley?” Nicholas said
hoarsely as he released her chin and she continued to stare at him
unseeingly. “Is she daft from the gunshot?”

“I do not know, Captain,” Tulley said softly and
scratched his head. “I have seen it before. It is likely the
bleeding affected her brain. She does not seem aware of anything
around her at all.”

“Will it pass?” Nicholas said tightly with a
harsh intake of breath and noting how the green eyes never seemed
to blink, and felt deflated by this news.

Tulley had not wanted to answer the question but
met the Captain’s look with a frown.

“I don’t know. It is possible she will never
come out of it. I have seen it with these types of wounds before.
Sometimes the sight or hearing is lost, other times, all
recognition. I can’t be sure. What do you want to do with her
now?”

“There is a sanitarium not far from St. Bart’s,”
Nicholas said grimly and looked at the beautiful shell of a woman
in his bunk with pain in his eyes.

It would be weeks before they arrived in St.
Bart’s. If she was not better by then, he would take her to the
sanitarium and hope they could tend to her. He was growing
increasingly frustrated by her lack of expression and lucidity. He
had little experience in such things.

“We will see if she improves.”

“Very well, sir,” Tulley said and nodded
approvingly. He tensed suddenly from the next subject he would
broach. “There is something I feel we should discuss. I am not at
all used to taking care of ladies. With her being in such a
delicate state, I would encourage you to consider finding the girl
a nurse when we make port. She needs someone to bathe her, and see
to her ah… other needs.”

“We make port in two weeks, Tulley,” Nicholas
said mockingly and noticed how uncomfortable the man appeared. “I
trust you can handle her until then?”

“Very well, two weeks then.”

Nicholas smiled as Tulley left his cabin. He
frowned as he went to sit with Catherine, holding her hand and
staring down into her emotionless face. He had spent a harrowing
night thinking she would die, and now he contemplated her never
coming back to him in her mind. He felt a sense of bitterness to
know he had been unable to save her from whatever danger pursued
her in London.

His eyes narrowed dangerously to think of how he
would have dealt with Thornton if he were in London now. Killing
the man had crossed his mind before he left town, just to insure
Catherine would be safe. The child’s fate was never far from his
mind as well. Gabriel’s or his, it didn’t matter, it was still
hers. She wasn’t likely to tell him what had become of the baby
now.

Nicholas looked into her vacant green stare and
felt the burning in his eyes once more. He squeezed her hand
comfortingly.

“What have you done now, love?” he whispered in
anguish as he brought her hand to his lips. His blue eyes grew
increasingly moist to see no response to his words.

Nicholas found a very able caregiver for
Catherine when they made port in an East African stopover two weeks
later. The woman was named Martha Bingham and the older woman never
ceased talking. She leapt at the chance to care for Catherine in
exchange for her passage to the islands.

Tieghan had eyed the woman as if he would put a
cork in her mouth on the jolly boat ride out to the ship. Clearly
the woman’s incessant chatter unnerved the giant Norwegian, who had
so little to say himself.

Mrs. Bingham would nurse Catherine during the
journey to St. Bart’s. She was widowed recently. Her and her
husband had been missionaries in Namibia. She had some experience
with such injuries. That was all Nicholas had heard when he hired
her.

He led Mrs. Bingham down the narrow hallway to
his cabin. Tieghan was left with the task of unloading her six
trunks in the accompanying boat. She refused to leave anything
behind and Nicholas cursed as he sent for another boat, just for
the woman’s absurd luggage.

Mrs. Bingham was a bustling woman with bright
shoe-button gray eyes and a clever smile. She constantly pushed her
spectacles up on the bridge of her nose, and her mouth never ceased
to move.

Nicholas nearly groaned as she jumped from ten
different topics in the last twenty minutes. This was to be
Catherine’s nurse? He opened the door to his cabin and the matronly
woman entered, going right to Catherine’s side.

She beamed down at the girl and looked into her
eyes, picking up her frail hand and gazing up at Nicholas with
concern in her gaze.

“How long has she been like this, Captain?”

“Over three weeks now, can you help her?”

“I will try,” the woman offered and clucked over
Catherine like a mother hen. “What a pretty little thing she is. Is
she your wife, Captain?”

The question took Nicholas by surprise. “No, she
is not my wife.”

“How did she come to be injured?”

“She was shot,” Nicholas said grimly, seeing
Mrs. Bingham pale and grow quiet with some satisfaction, though it
lasted only sixty seconds.

“If you did not shoot her, we should get on well
together, Captain,” Mrs. Bingham replied brightly, aware Captain
Van Ryker deliberately tried to shock her. “Now, we will need to
get her up. She needs to be stimulated. I have seen such injuries
before. The best thing is to get her moving again.”

“Do you think you can help her?” he asked again,
this time his expression was more intent.

“I will try my very best, Captain.”

Nicholas felt relieved leaving Catherine in Mrs.
Bingham’s capable hands. He passed his crew as they lugged the
woman’s belongings down the galley way and grinned.

He went in search of an assistant for Mrs.
Bingham.

Tieghan glared and folded his arms in front of
him when Nicholas requested he help Mrs. Bingham walk Catherine
about the deck. The giant Norseman was cursing in his own language
when Nicholas held up a hand.

“You are the only man aboard I can spare for
such a chore,” he said tersely in their Norse tongue, and eyed his
first mate in a manner that made the giant curse louder and glare
down at him. Nicholas smiled and returned to the wheel.

“It is only for an hour each day. I don’t ask
you to play nursemaid to the girl. Mrs. Bingham will do that. You
must help her walk Catherine about to exercise her legs.”

Tieghan appeared not long after with the raven
haired girl on his arm, Mrs. Bingham holding her on the other side
of her. Her feet dragged behind her and Mrs. Bingham carefully
placed her feet one in front of the other repeatedly to get her to
stand, speaking to the girl encouragingly.

The girl remained in her catatonic state and her
head lolled upon Tieghan’s arm. He looked down at her with such a
tender expression Nicholas nearly laughed aloud, but decided his
first mate already felt put out enough. He played valet to him when
they were ashore and now he would be Mrs. Bingham’s assistant for
the girl’s rehabilitation.

The first few days were daunting and he saw
little cooperation from Catherine as they dragged her about. Mrs.
Bingham was tireless and refused to give up. When Catherine took
her first steps days later the woman crowed with delight. She
earned a scowl from Tieghan at the shrill sound.

They brought a chair above to place on the deck
near the railing and Mrs. Bingham conversed with the girl for
hours. Nicholas was impatient to see the light return to
Catherine’s eyes once more. She continued to stare into space, but
Mrs. Bingham assured him the girl could hear.

She encouraged him to speak to her, even if she
did not respond. He did and felt foolish, inquiring how she was
feeling and looking into the blank green gaze smiling and acting as
if all was well.

Tieghan spoke in a low voice in his native
tongue today. Nicholas knew what he was saying and grinned. Tieghan
was telling her of Nordic legends. It was more conversation than he
had ever attempted with anyone else except him.

Mrs. Bingham dressed Catherine in some of her
old gowns and kept her clean, and from what he understood, made
sure the girl’s private needs were met as well. Eating was a
frustrating task, as they had to move the girl’s jaw manually to
get her to chew. She was growing far too thin, Nicholas thought.
The wind blew and made the diaphanous gown cling to her shape and
showed how gaunt she had become.

Remembering Catherine’s lush figure when they
first met, he sighed and looked away from the pitifully thin
creature who was led to sit at the railing, staring out at the
waves unseeing.

Mrs. Bingham talked and sang and clapped her
hands and all the sailors learned to ignore her antics. They grew
accustomed to the woman whose mouth never ceased to stop making
some sort of noise.

They were three weeks at sea when Mrs. Bingham
made some sort of breakthrough and shouted for him to come quickly.
Nicholas entered his cabin and looked at the older woman
questioningly, noting the still vacant expression on Catherine’s
face in the bunk.

Mrs. Bingham made him watch as she retrieved the
small ball and dropped it in front of Catherine. Her hand snaked
out to capture it so quickly, Nicholas gasped incredulously.

“She can see! I know she is coming back to us
Captain, we just need more time,” she said urgently. “She has some
reflexes restored. You saw her catch the ball. I have also gotten
her to hold a fork and spoon.”

“Why can she still not speak?” Nicholas asked,
beginning to question the woman’s methods. “You say she can hear
and see, why does she not communicate?”

“The body often wakes up before the brain in
some cases,” Mrs. Bingham explained. “We don’t know why. Our
Catherine still has a long way to go, but I believe she is coming
back. I believe she is starting to focus on faces as well. I saw
her looking at Tieghan. I could swear her expression changed for a
mere moment.”

Nicholas was encouraged by the news and eyed
Catherine closely. Her frozen facial features were twitching
slightly and Mrs. Bingham explained it was normal. He found the
whole process rather discouraging despite the woman’s obvious
enthusiasm. He returned to the deck and met Tieghan’s searching
gaze with a smile.