Page 42 of Marriage Most Scandalous
Could her face get any hotter? She’d never in her life been subjected to the sort of things this man said, and he said them as if there was nothing wrong with saying them. The man really had forgotten how to behave in polite society, had far too long been The Raven, uncouth, deadly, a merciless mercenary.
Stiffly, she said, “That’s out of the question. I’ll get your money.”
Was his shrug a little bit disappointed? she wondered, but he merely warned, “Don’t make me wait too long proving that you can.”
“Or what? You’ll leave? Without finishing the job?”
“A job you haven’t paid for.”
“This is your family,” she reminded him. “I shouldn’t have to pay you.”
“Ex-family. I warned you that they mean nothing to me now.”
“Liar,” she retorted, and then in an incredulous tone, “Good God, you even said it yourself, that you weren’t serious about that price.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
He started walking toward her. Margaret stiffened, but by the time he reached her, she could have been a statue for all the movement she was capable of. She expected the worst. He was looking too damn serious. And such close proximity to him flayed her nerves as it usually did. And quickened her pulse. And shot her anticipation sky-high.
He ran the back of his finger across her cheek. It was the lightest touch, and yet it set afire every nerve in her body and made her feel as if she were melting. How could something so harmless nearly buckle her knees? How could this man affect her so strongly? She simply didn’t understand it.
“You do realize that no one will expect you to be a virgin after you obtain your ‘divorce’?” he said in too soft a tone. “And it will settle the difficulty we are having with a single room. Think about it, Maggie.”
She’d do nothing of the sort. He was mad even to suggest it. But she wasn’t about to say that with him standing so close to her that she could feel his body’s heat and hear him breathing. She had to remind herself to breathe! And she wanted to step back, she really did, but couldn’t seem to move. Fear. That had to be it. He was terrifying her. Yes, that was a much better conclusion to draw than that he excited her beyond anything else she’d ever experienced.
Her silence must have encouraged him because he suddenly caressed her other cheek. Really, so lightly she might not even have noticed if it had been anyone but him touching her.
“You’re soft,” he murmured. “I wasn’t expecting that, as hardnosed as you are.”
She blinked. Teasing her when she was so frazzled she couldn’t put two thoughts together? But it allowed her to break the trance she’d been in and stumble away from him—stupid knees still weren’t working right.
But the distance let her think clearly again and she was quick to mention, “There is another option, the most commonsense one. You simply return to White Oaks until your father recovers. Make some excuse for doing so. You can’t talk to Douglas, anyway, until he regains consciousness. There’s really no reason for both of us to take the bedside vigil.”
He appeared to give that some thought, then said, “No. I need to be here when Juliette gets back from London. I need to see her reaction to my return. And besides, leaving here now that I’ve gained entrance defeats the purpose of our ‘marriage.’ I can’t very well push and prod to find out what’s been happening here if I’m at White Oaks.”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll return home, then, and you do the bedside vigil.”
“I don’t do bedside vigils. And we don’t want my face to be the first thing my father sees when he awakens. That would probably shock him back to unconsciousness. Denton was right in that regard. He’d much prefer you for his nurse.”
Margaret gritted her teeth. The man was absolutely impossible to deal with. And absolutely determined to share a room with her, apparently.
She threw up her hands and marched to the door. “Very well, but your bedding will be moved into the bathroom. There is plenty of floor space in there for it, and don’t you dare try to insist there isn’t. And the door will remain closed between us. And you will knock before entering this room. And I will not discuss it further. That is my last word on it.”
She’d reached the door, opened it, and turned to glare at him, daring him to come up with an excuse to refute what she’d just said. He said nothing, was giving her his usual inscrutable look. He’d gotten what he wanted in the end, both of them “appearing” to be sharing the room. He’d thoroughly wracked her emotions and she’d still lost the battle. Odious man.
“And I’m not the least bit hard-nosed!” she added before she closed the door on him. “I merely exercise common sense.”
Chapter 23
DOUGLAS’S FEVER WAS STILL VERY HIGH, Dr. Culden stopped by again that morning, and this time even he was starting to look worried after he tried with no success to wake his patient. He wasn’t ready to resort to funneling liquid down his throat, but he did order them to feed Douglas the very moment he woke.
To accomplish that, Margaret had a cauldron of soup brought up and set near enough to the fireplace in Douglas’s room that it was kept warm. She also had buckets of icy water fetched from the cold cellar to be used for compresses for his brow, which were to be changed regularly.
Dr. Culden had checked Douglas’s head wound again and reported that it looked clean and didn’t appear to be infected. The swelling hadn’t gone down, though. And until they knew otherwise, the fever remained the greater problem. As long as it remained high, Douglas was still in danger.
Margaret spent the morning in his room. He’d certainly had enough sleep, so if he was going to wake, it should be soon, and she wanted to be there when he did.
At midmorning Abigail poked her head around the door. She didn’t come into the room, merely squinted at the bed, though she probably couldn’t see that Douglas was still sleeping.
