To Tempt A Rogue (13 page)

“The patient must swallow at least two large spoonfuls every four hours,” Mr. MacLeod announced.

“What's in it?” Harriet asked.

“A special blend of medicine that will aid in her sleep, clear her lungs, and reduce her fever.”

“Sounds miraculous,” Mr. Wainwright said sarcastically.

The doctor was not offended. Quite the opposite in fact. He smiled and nodded his head in modest recognition of what he clearly perceived as praise.

“If it does only half of what he claims, it will be of great help.” Harriet rested her hands on her hips. “However, in order to ease my fears, Mr. MacLeod, I require that you ingest a dose of this miraculous elixir before it is given to my maid.”

“I beg yer pardon?” The doctor covered his mouth in obvious horror.

Harriet allowed herself a slight smile, pleased that she had managed to penetrate his whiskey-soaked brain. “You must swallow the medicine before being allowed to administer it to Kate.”

“But I'm not ill.”

Harriet merely shrugged. Mr. MacLeod stared at her for several long moments, as if weighing her resolve. Then with a shrug of defeat, he swiftly downed a mouthful of the medicine. His face contorted comically, but the doctor not only swallowed it, he kept it down.

Satisfied there was nothing in the concoction that would harm Kate, Harriet nodded her approval. It took all three of them to get the proper dose of medicine poured down the older woman's throat. When it was done, Harriet slumped against the headboard, silently wondering how she would manage to properly care for Kate throughout the long day.

But she had to do it. After a few parting words of instructions, Mr. MacLeod left. All day and throughout the night Harriet nursed the older woman. She tried her best to dose her with medicine and fill her with fluids. She bathed Kate's head with cool cloths when she threw off the blankets, and she piled the quilts higher when Kate's teeth would chatter and she shivered.

Mr. MacLeod made a second call the following morning and confirmed Harriet's worst fear. Kate had the influenza and was not responding to the medication. A new mixture of medicines was prescribed, but Harriet's hope for recovery was fading.

Exhausted, discouraged, and frightened, Harriet redoubled her efforts. Kate would not die! Though Harriet had never felt a particular bond with the servant, the thought of losing someone who was her responsibility pulled at Harriet's soul.

A knock at the door signaled that dinner had arrived. Wearily Harriet retrieved the tray, almost hoping she would catch a glimpse of the servant who had left it. She had seen no one other than Mr. MacLeod and Mr. Wainwright in nearly two days and their visits had been brief.

Kate was twisting restlessly on the bed. Harriet closed the door and set aside the tray. She would eat later, when Kate was more settled, improved.

Harriet piled two blankets on top of the shivering maid, tucking both sides tightly beneath the mattress to keep her from thrashing about and injuring herself. The maid began talking, babbling a string of delirious mumblings that were impossible to understand.

“All will be well, Kate,” Harriet declared. She spoke constantly to the maid, partially in hopes that the sound of another voice might calm the older woman, but Harriet also used it as a device to keep herself awake. “Would you like a sip of cool water? It should feel good on your parched lips and throat.”

Harriet lifted Kate into a sitting position and brought the cup up to the older woman's lips, but the maid struck out, twisting and turning, knocking the water out of Harriet's hand.

“All right then, no water just yet. Perhaps later.”

Harriet straightened, brushing the droplets from her dress. Fortunately the water had fallen on her and not the bed. It would have been impossible to change wet sheets with Kate in such an agitated state and the servants afraid to enter the room.

She would have had to call Mr. Wainwright to assist her. The idea of asking for his help was not a repugnant one, for she realized he would have done this without question or complaint.

Harriet could hear movement outside her door, the sound of footsteps approaching. “How is Kate?” Mr. Wainwright asked as he entered the room.

Harriet shrugged. “No worse than earlier this morning. I've given her two doses of the newest medicine but it seems to have had little effect.”

He joined her at the bedside, his expression silent and austere as he stared down at the sick woman. “I am certain you are doing an excellent job of caring for her, but you need to rest now, Miss Sainthill,” he said. “I've had a bedchamber down the hall cleaned and aired for you so you may sleep in comfort and privacy.”

“I cannot leave her. She is too frail and helpless.” Harriet stretched onto her toes and arched her back, attempting to ease the tightness in her muscles. “I'll rest when her fever breaks.”

“That could take hours, even days. You'll be of no use to anyone if you are worn to a frazzle.”

Harriet shook her head in protest. “I'm fine.” “Stop blaming yourself. Her illness is not your fault.”

“How did you—” Harriet clamped her lips tightly, then sighed. “She is my servant and my responsibility. I should never have taken such an elderly maid on this arduous journey. And I should never have allowed her to sleep on the pallet. 'Tis too near the damp, cold stone floor. I'm sure that chill has caused this fever.”

“I highly doubt it. I slept in far more barbaric conditions when I first arrived at the castle and never once fell ill.” He tilted his head and squinted slightly. “That's not entirely true. I have experienced a bit of soreness from using some long dormant muscles, but that has been my only physical discomfort.”

Ah, and what splendid muscles they are, sir. Do you wish me to soothe and massage away any lingering aches?
Harriet blinked and shook her head, realizing that she was far more exhausted than she thought, if she was allowing these thoughts to invade her consciousness. At least she still possessed the wit not to say them aloud.

“Since you refuse to leave, I will stay and care for Kate while you sleep on one of the chairs,” Mr. Wainwright decided.

“ 'Tis highly improper for you to be in a bedchamber, behind closed doors with me for any significant length of time,” Harriet responded automatically.

“I thought you weren't going to care about proprieties any longer, Miss Sainthill. Harriet.” He smiled for the first time since this ordeal began and she was struck anew by how handsome he was—and kind.

“I have not given you leave to address me by my first name,” she retorted with a raised brow.

“I have taken the liberty.” A hint of a roguish leer surfaced. “After all, we are going to be sleeping together.”

“Hardly!” A rush of heat surged into Harriet's cheeks.

“Be sensible, Harriet. I've already tried bribing some of the younger maids into helping care for Kate, but they are all too frightened of catching this illness. I suppose I could order them, but it doesn't seem fair. To them or Kate.”

Harriet sighed heavily. “You're right. It is highly doubtful she would receive proper care from someone who is afraid to be in the same room with her.”

“Precisely. Please, lie down for a few hours before we have two patients to worry about.” His eyes took on a teasing glint. “Besides, 'tis a trifle late to be worrying about the propriety of our situation. Especially since I've already seen you in your nightclothes.”

Her heart did an immediate leap as he flashed that seductive smile at her. Feeling that she needed to preserve some control over the situation, Harriet shot him a reproachful glare, though it seemed to have little effect.

Deciding she was too tired to argue, Harriet allowed him to drape his arms across her shoulders and lead her to an overstuffed chair. She sat down and tucked her legs up, then rolled onto her side and curled into a ball, dragging the blankets he provided over her shoulder.

“Since you are so insistent, I will rest for a few hours,” Harriet said wearily. “But you must promise that you will wake me if Kate worsens or calls for me.”

“I will.” He handed her a fluffy feather pillow. The moment her head settled into the softness, Harriet let her muscles relax and felt her lids get heavy. The last thing she remembered was the trustworthy expression on his handsome face and the feeling of warmth and safety that invaded her tired bones.

The sound of snoring woke her. There was a deep snort, followed by a snuffle and another snort. It was both an annoying and familiar sound, but Harriet's foggy head could not determine why this noise was such a comfort.

She opened her eyes. The room was bathed in sunlight, the first she had seen since arriving in Scotland. Mr. Wainwright was sprawled inelegantly in the chair by Kate's bedside. He had removed his coat and cravat, opened his shirt at the neck and rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

Most surprising of all was the sight of his stocking feet, propped on the edge of the bed. It seemed ridiculously intimate for him to be so casually attired and her heart fluttered oddly at the notion. Harriet shifted her head, her eyes seeking out Kate. 'Twas the maid that created the snoring sounds. Simmering with hope, Harriet stood and hurried to the bed.

Kate still lay on her back, but her face was less distressed, more relaxed. Anxiously, Harriet placed her hand upon the maid's forehead. It was slightly clammy, but mercifully cool to the touch.

Harriet didn't say anything, but Mr. Wainwright must have sensed she was near because he opened his eyes and stared straight at her.

“Good news,” Harriet reported with a smile. “Kate is no longer feverish.”

“Yes, I know. Her fever broke early this morning.” He removed his feet from the edge of the bed and leaned forward. “Though I cannot claim to have Mr. MacLeod's experience, I believe she has somehow survived the worst and will make a full recovery.”

Then he reached up with one hand, encircled the back of Harriet's neck, pulled her into his lap and captured her lips in a searing, commanding kiss.

Nathaniel felt her inner gasp, her initial shock as his surprising move took her breath away. But this was a celebration, a victory over an illness that had seemed poised to win, and he was determined to enjoy every moment of it. His hand drifted to Harriet's cheek and he stroked it softly, caressing her gently. She sighed, parting her lips so he could slip his tongue through and taste the warm recesses of her mouth. Heat surged through his body at her ardent response.

“It feels good to cheat death, does it not?” he asked, nuzzling the soft skin below her ear.

“Wonderful,” she sighed. She made a sound in the back of her throat, a sensual purr of excitement. “Nearly as wonderful as this.” She lifted her face and pressed her lips against his in a gesture of trusting welcome.

Nathaniel immersed himself completely in the sensations her kisses created, nibbling at her bottom lip, stroking her tongue, molding his body into her softness. Driven by mutual need, it took little coaxing for her lips to cling to his, briefly part, then join again.

Nathaniel felt Harriet's yearning rise to meet his own and it filled him with such an expanded sense of rightness. There was something unique about this woman that captured more than his lust—though it did a fine job of that—it captured his imagination and compelled some inner basic instinct to seize and take and claim. Her.

Deepening his kisses, Nathaniel allowed his hand to feather a light touch along her throat and neck. Harriet reacted with a moan and moved closer. Unable to resist, Nathaniel released the top buttons of her gown and thrust his hand inside, cupping her firm breasts, teasing his thumb across their stiffening crests.

She pulled away from his lips and released a shuddering cry. Nathaniel's arms held her steady. How he longed to fit his aching loins between the sweetness of her thighs, to lower his head until his mouth covered her nipple, to suck it gently, roughly, thoroughly until she caught on fire. To introduce her to fierce urgency and intoxicating release.

Of their own will his hands roamed over her back and waist and hips. A frisson of lust raced across his skin. Desire for her blinded him to reason. He forgot they sat within a few feet of her sick maid. He remembered only the feelings she evoked, the desperate need, the promise of true fulfillment, which lay so close within his grasp.

“We must stop,” she admonished, though there was little conviction in her tone.

“In a moment.”

He lifted his hand, wet the tip of his index finger, then returned to her hardened nipple. Her breathing altered and deepened as she stretched herself forward, arching to get closer. He moved his finger slowly in a circle and she began thrusting against his hand, making whimpering noises deep in the back of her throat.

“Please,” she cried. “If you do not stop soon, Kate will awaken and see us.”

“Is she so innocent, your maid? Will she be scandalized by our love-play?”

“The shock will most likely send her into heart failure and we shall have even bigger problems than those we have finally conquered.”

Nathaniel smiled, despite the painful discomfort of his arousal. Somewhere during this harrowing ordeal their relationship had become closer, which included the comfort of lighthearted teasing. That pleased him.

Nathaniel looked down at Harriet's face and studied her eyes. Awakening desire rimmed the circle of her irises. He could read the amusement in them—and the regret? Or did he just wish to see amusement there, for his body was screaming for release and his soul, his soul was searching for something he could not yet fully understand.

The urge to take her lips again waxed strong, but he shook aside the impulse, knowing this was not the right time or place. Harriet turned and tried to rise from his lap, but Nathaniel found he could not let go. Just a few more minutes, he told himself.

“Wait,” he whispered in her ear. “You don't want to startle Kate and awaken her abruptly by making a lot of noise. Or let her see your bodice gaping open with my hand pressed inside.”

Harriet shifted and looked at him with awareness and understanding glistening in her eyes. Slowly he removed his hand and placed it on his thigh. She straightened her shoulders and brought her bodice back to its correct position. He watched, feeling a strong sense of regret as her nimble fingers methodically refastened the row of buttons he had taken such delight in releasing.

But when she leaned forward to lift herself from his lap, Nathaniel discovered he was not yet ready to let her go. Sliding his hand around the front of her waist, he pulled her tightly back against him. The tempting curves of her soft body drove him mad. He wanted only to run his hands over her, but he feared she would stiffen and pull away.

A shudder rocked him as her bottom pressed against his jutting erection. He splayed his palm over the flatness of her stomach, anchoring her against him, wishing he had the right to reach further down and stroke between her legs. With his other hand he swept aside the tendrils of hair that covered her neck and placed a sensual kiss. Her thighs clamped together and he smiled. Her body too was taut with need and desire.

Kate, finally rousing from her illness, groaned loudly and the spell was broken. Reluctantly Nathaniel released Harriet. She stumbled awkwardly to her feet, pushing away his hand when he reached out to steady her. But when she turned to look at him, her eyes twinkled.

Harriet moved to the foot of the bed and adjusted the coverlet. “How are you feeling, Kate?”

“Like Wellington's troops have marched over my old, weary bones,” the maid grumbled. Her eyelids slowly opened. “What's wrong with me?”

“You've been sick with fever and chills,” Harriet answered. “Wait, don't try to sit up. If you move too fast you'll make yourself dizzy.”

Harriet fluffed the pillows and arranged them behind Kate's back. The maid attempted to lift herself onto her elbows. “Have I truly been so poorly?”

“The fever raged for several days,” Harriet explained, encouraging the older woman to lie back.

“Fortunately for all of us, Miss Sainthill has proven herself to be an excellent nurse,” Nathaniel said.

Kate looked startled. “You, Miss? It was you who cared for me?”

“Yes, me. With a bit of help from Mr. Wainwright and the local physician.” Harriet filled a cup with water. She slid her arms behind Kate's shoulder to lift her, then held the cup to Kate's lips. The maid drank greedily, then sank back against her pillows as if she were exhausted. “I can hardly wait for you to meet your doctor, Mr. MacLeod,” Harriet added. “He is quite the character.”

“More of a quack,” Nathaniel rumbled. “Though he miraculously saved you, Kate, so I suppose we have no cause to criticize.”

The older woman turned her head, squinted, then blinked. “Is my mind playing tricks on me or is that weak sunshine I see creeping through the windows?”

“It is sunshine,” Harriet replied with a laugh.

“'Tis difficult to believe we are still in Scotland, heh, Kate?”

The maid smiled and nodded. Harriet plucked at the blanket and adjusted the pillows once again. Her attention was fully focused on her patient, allowing Nathaniel to observe her at his leisure. She wore a dark green gown buttoned up to the neck, but it was fitted in such a way as to display her trim waist and amply curving breasts.

Even though she had had too little sleep and too much worry in the past few days, she looked pretty. Tendrils of her rich, dark hair tumbled about her shoulders and brushed her cheek. Her lips held a hint of rosy color, no doubt from the kisses they had just shared.

Though he regretted the horrible ordeal she had been forced to endure, he was glad that Harriet had not departed as planned, was pleased that she had remained under his roof and in his company for a few more days. Now that Kate was recovering, Harriet would soon leave. But not for several days, or perhaps even a week.

The distinct sound of a stomach growling rose above the women's conversation. “Hunger is a good sign,” Nathaniel commented. “Kate is clearly improving if she is ready to eat again.”

Harriet cleared her throat. “Kate has fallen back to sleep. That was my stomach rumbling.”

Though he suspected she was more than a little embarrassed; after all, ladies did not acknowledge or draw attention to bodily functions when in the presence of a gentleman, Harriet refused to blush or avert her eyes from his.

“I'll go down to the kitchen,” he volunteered.

“There is no need to bother. I see that my dinner tray from yesterday remains untouched. That will suffice.”

Harriet drew back the curtains before taking her seat at the small table. Sunlight rayed into the room, relieving some of the gloom and illuminating the dust motes that swirled in the air. Only when Nathaniel saw her eat nearly every morsel did he realize she must be famished, for the majority of Mrs. Mullins's dishes were barely tolerable, even when eaten fresh.

“Would you like more?” Nathaniel asked. “If you can manage to wait a few minutes, I'll have some hot food prepared.”

Harriet shook her head. “I've already eaten more than I should. Hot food would have been nice, though the pasties were filled mostly with potatoes and cabbage and tasted no worse after sitting about through the night.”

Nathaniel wrinkled his nose. “Lord, if I ate more than one potato and cabbage pastie it would sink to my stomach like a stone.”

Harriet set her folded napkin beside her plate and rose from the table. “You are not supposed to notice how much I eat, Mr. Wainwright. Instead, you should be making flattering comments about how my dainty appetite resembles a bird's.”

“And so it does.” Nathaniel also stood. “However, the bird in this instance is a vulture.”

She reacted to the telltale laughter in his voice as he had hoped. Yet, their shared, intimate smile distracted Nathaniel for a moment.

There was so much contradiction and complexity to this woman! The primness, the rigidity, the grave dignity were all there in abundance, yet she also possessed a wicked sense of humor, especially about herself. He had known far too many eminently respectable ladies, and while initially Harriet appeared the very embodiment of respectibility, Nathaniel had discovered she was, indeed, very different from the self-proclaimed paragons of virtue.

She had selflessly nursed a servant through a life-threatening illness at the risk of her own health. She was cool in nature and composure, but far from frigid. She possessed a stubborn streak, a trait always deemed unacceptable in a true lady, yet in Harriet's case it was tempered with the intelligence needed to properly manage it.

On the surface, she was not the type of woman who immediately inspired soaring passions. If they had met in society, as equals, he would have immediately judged her to be a dull, sour, prim woman and dismissed her from his thoughts and attention.

That reaction was as much a reflection of his own expectations as it was an insensitive response to her inability to fulfill some artificial requirements of society regarding beauty, demeanor, and age. Nathaniel was not proud to admit this, yet perhaps this knowledge would prevent him from making a similar misjudgment in the future.

“Since it appears that Kate will no longer require round-the-clock attention, we should move your belongings into a different bedchamber,” Nathaniel suggested. “As you may recall, I had one prepared for you yesterday, but you were disinclined to use it.”

“You prepared a chamber for me?”

“Well, naturally I did not do the actual work.”

“Naturally.”

Nathaniel didn't know whether to smile or frown. “I'm sure it isn't up to your exacting standards, but the maids were able to brush down the cobwebs, get rid of the dust and put clean linens on the bed.”

“It sounds like a vast improvement over my original quarters,” Harriet commented.

Nathaniel struggled to keep his face impassive as guilt knifed through him. Though, at the time, his actions seemed valid, Nathaniel now felt that deliberately allowing Harriet to be placed in such inappropriate conditions had been rather heavy-handed.

“Would you like to inspect the room first?” he asked, not wanting her to question his sincerity.

“That is hardly necessary. If you would kindly carry my portmanteau to the new chamber I will unpack after Mr. MacLeod has seen Kate. I expect him within the hour.”

“Excellent. I shall want a full report when the physician is finished. Meet me downstairs in the library after he leaves. And bring your cloak and bonnet.”

She nodded and he reached for her portmanteau. It was heavier than it looked, but his masculine pride would not allow him to notice the burden.

In less than an hour, Harriet appeared before him, holding her cloak and bonnet, as he had requested. Smiling with delight, Nathaniel took the cloak from her hand and settled it around her shoulders. He waited patiently while she tied the ribbons of her bonnet, then offered his arm.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To the garden, to enjoy some fresh air.” Nathaniel guided her through a large door into a sheltered courtyard. Even though spring had scarcely arrived in the Highlands, there were spears of green leaves pushing through the soil, alongside untamed beds of rose bushes. Even in its dormant state it was obvious that the garden, like everything else at the castle, had been long neglected.

It was overgrown and wild, with rambling patches of heather and lavender over-running the north side of the property, yet the promise of colorful blooms and vibrant beauty remained. With some care and attention, this could once again be a place of fragrant splendor.

The main gravel path was still intact and they followed it to the end. At the edge of the garden there was a surprise—a steep drop down a rocky hill, barren except for a few hardy shrubs stubbornly clinging to its side.

“Ah, so there is the village!” Harriet exclaimed as she leaned forward.