Chapter 9

His face was on fire. And his shoulder. The pain didn’t stop or even slow him. He sliced and thrust, wreaking as much havoc as possible amidst the screams. Until they stopped.

Sweat dripped from his brow, down his back. He looked around, but there was no one left to kill. The heat and savagery faded. Now, he stood on a hilltop, the breeze an irritation instead of a balm to his burned flesh. Again, the pain was inconsequential—outside. Inside, searing agony threatened to tear him in two as he looked down at the fresh mound of dirt, the slender wooden cross marking her final resting place.

This wasn’t a memory. Because he’d never seen where she was buried. He’d never seen her again after finding her bruised and broken body.

“Shhh, you’re safe.”

The soft words broke through his torment. He brushed his hand across his brow and met an arm.

Max’s eyes flew open.

Miss Treadway was above him, perched on the bed, one hand on his head and another on his bare, heaving chest. He blinked, and she came more into focus, her blue-gray eyes gazing at him with such concern. And perhaps something else.

Her lips were parted, inviting his kiss. He almost pulled her down.

Instead, he pushed himself into a sitting position, glad he wasn’t nude, not that the small clothes were enough to cover his hardening cock. “Do you station yourself outside my door every night?”

“Er, not exactly.” She’d withdrawn her hands from him when he sat up, and he regretted the loss of her touch. “I’ve been taking nightly strolls.”

“And you just happened to hear me having a nightmare.”

“Tonight, I did. Do you have them every night?”

“No.”

She gave him a faint smile, but it didn’t carry her usual brightness. “Well, I’m sorry you have them at all. If you ever want to talk about them…”

“It’s about the war.” He said the words before he could censor himself. “Something bad happened. I can’t tell you what.” His eyes met hers, and he knew in that moment that he could happily and easily drown in their depths—in the care and understanding he saw in them.

She nodded, her gaze dipping to the bed. “Did you lose someone?” she whispered.

“I did.” Lucia’s face rose in his mind. He worked so hard to keep her away, to maintain his defenses. Seeing her, remembering her, invited the pain and the grief. But for some reason, he felt safe at the moment, protected somehow. Lucia’s dark curls blew about her sun-drenched cheeks as she laughed up at him. Max caressed her cheek before he kissed her. Jolting back to the present, he said, “I was going to marry her, but then…” His voice was low and raspy. He was surprised the words made it out. He hadn’t ever told anyone that.

Miss Treadway took his hand between hers. She didn’t say anything, just stroked his flesh and breathed with him.

“You aren’t going to pester me about this?” he asked in surprise.

When her head jerked up and hurt flashed in her eyes, he felt immediately guilty.

She exhaled. “It’s a valid question. I pester you about everything else. But no, I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

“For the next few days.”

“Yes.”

Then she’d be gone. The urge to take her in his arms, to kiss her and caress her, to show her how much he appreciated her kindness was almost overwhelming. He nearly asked her about the kiss they’d shared the other night, but he couldn’t find the courage.

“Are you really considering hiring Mrs. Tallent as the steward?” she asked. “Is it all right that she’s a woman?”

He was grateful for the complete change of topic. Had she realized how close he was coming to making an inappropriate advance?

“My initial surprise was because I already had someone in mind—also a woman.”

Her hand stilled, and she blinked at him. “You did?”

“Someone very capable who has already demonstrated a better grasp of Stonehill in a very short time than I have done in years.”

She clasped his hand tightly. “You mean me.”

He nodded in response.

“But I annoy you.”

He shrugged. “Less than you did at first.”

“I’m flattered.” She seemed to struggle to say more. “I would consider it if I didn’t already have a job that I love.”

“I understand.” Even if it was disappointing. She might annoy him, but he liked her. What’s more, he craved her—or more accurately, the way she made him feel: less afraid, strong, capable. But he was going to have to manage without her. “I’ll hire Mrs. Tallent.”

Miss Treadway’s face lit. “Truly? I’m so happy! She will be too. I know this will be excellent for everyone.”

“I’m sure you know this, but there’s a house for the steward on the estate. It’s likely bigger than where she is now.”

“I did know there was a house, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted her to live there.” She looked a bit sheepish.

“You were hesitant about something?” he asked in disbelief.

“I rather botched this by not telling you about Mrs. Tallent in advance. I wasn’t going to press matters by asking if she could move to the steward’s house.”

“She can’t very well stay in the farm if I’m to lease it.” He frowned. “I’ll need to find someone to farm that this summer if she becomes the steward.”

“Yes, unless she does both for a while.”

Max shook his head. “I’m not going to expect her to do that. Now that I’m hiring grooms, perhaps Archie can take on more of the farming responsibilities. And yes, I know she wants him to attend school. I’ve already decided to write him a recommendation.”

“You have?” She took her hand from his and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. “Thank you.”

He felt her breath against his neck. She wore a dressing gown and probably a thin night rail beneath it. He could feel the heat of her as well as the lush contours of her body. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and his cock lengthened once more.

She smelled of apples and spice. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, wondering if she’d bathed earlier. He wanted to press his nose to her flesh, to lick her neck, to immerse himself in her completely.

What was happening to him?

He’d never imagined he’d feel this way about anyone ever again. That he would dream of Lucia in one moment and want Miss Treadway—Ada, her name was Ada—so ferociously in the next was galling. He was a beast.

Gently, he disentangled himself from her, pushing back against the headboard. She withdrew, her cheeks pink. “My apologies,” she murmured. “I got carried away.”

“It’s fine,” he said stiffly—as stiff as his cock. God, she’d probably felt that and didn’t know what to think.

She plucked at a thread on her dressing gown. “I should go.”

“You could stay.” He hadn’t meant to say it, just think it. “For a few minutes.”

“Would it help you go back to sleep?” She was asking another question, he thought. She wanted to know if sleep was his objective. It had to be. She would be leaving him in a few days, and he wasn’t sure he was in any shape to engage in sexual relations with anyone.

“It might. It’s also inappropriate. You should forget I asked.”

She shook her head, then waved him over so she could lie down beside him. He noted she did not get under the covers with him, which was for the best.

He scooted down into the bed and brought the other pillow closer so that he could transfer to that one and not crowd her. How desperately he wanted to press against her, to fall asleep in the comfort of her warmth and scent.

She rolled to her side and faced him. “Good night,” she whispered.

He turned to face her as well, and the inches separating them might as well have been a canyon. “Good night.”

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Ada stared at the short note that she’d found in her room when she’d come to get ready for bed.

If you want to stay again—to sleep—you are more than welcome.

She’d slept in his lordship’s bed the night before until just before dawn when she’d awakened and stolen from his room before anyone realized she was there. And who would do that? No one, but that would change when the household grew in a few days.

By then, she’d be gone.

So what harm would there be in sleeping with him again? They were just sleeping, after all. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want her. With the exception of his unmistakable erection.

Those could happen with a stiff breeze!

Except there wasn’t a breeze. He was alone with you in his bed. Of course he wants you.

No, he does not! We were in a bed, and his body just reacted. It doesn’t mean he wants me.

You’re being purposely obtuse.

Isn’t that for the best?

Ada refolded the note and set it on the desk. “Oh, good heavens, who argues with themselves?”

Before she could think better of it, she strode from her room and went directly to his. Unlike the past few nights, she hadn’t meandered, using the excuse of “walking to get tired” to explain her ramblings. The truth was that she’d wanted to be there for him if he had another nightmare.

That he’d told her even a little of what tortured him made her feel incredibly special. He had loved someone. Enough to marry her. She understood that the “something” that had happened was that she’d died. She could also guess that her death was traumatic, but whether that was due to only his grief or some additional tragedy, such as his wounds, she had no idea. Whatever had occurred had affected him deeply, and he was only now beginning to emerge from the darkness.

She hoped he was emerging.

When she reached his door, she wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t knocked on her previous visits because he’d been in the throes of distress. Plus, he’d been asleep.

Tonight, she should knock. It was far earlier than the other nights, and he would still be awake. She brought her hand up and rapped firmly. Nervously, she pulled her long braid over her shoulder so that it fell over her left breast. Then she fidgeted with the end.

A moment later, the door opened. He stood, gripping the wood, his gaze moving over her in what looked like appreciation.

Heat rose in her cheeks and flooded other parts of her body. Perhaps this had been a foolish idea. She was rubbish at resisting temptation. She dropped her hands to her sides.

“You came,” he said, opening the door wider.

“Against my better judgment, probably. It’s a good thing you have such a thin household. If there was a chance I’d be seen, I would not have come.” She moved into the chamber.

He closed the door once she was inside. “If there was a chance you’d be seen, I would not have asked.”

His voice rustled over the back of her exposed neck like silk. “I was a bit nervous to ask you to come again tonight, but my motives were rather selfish.” He moved around to stand in front of her. “Last night was the best sleep I can remember.”

Joy radiated through her, and she had to stop herself from hugging him again as she’d done the night before. “I’m so glad.”

They stared at each other, and the moment bloomed into an awkward silence. At last, he pivoted and lifted his hand toward the bed. “Shall we?”

Feeling nervous again, Ada nodded. Last night, she’d kept her dressing gown on and slept on top of the bedclothes. Was she to join him beneath them tonight?

“Er, how do you want to do this?” she asked, too timid to meet his gaze.

“However you like. If you want to sleep in the bed with me, as opposed to on top of it, I have no problem with that. I want you to be comfortable. You are doing me a great favor.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “I want to do it.” Shaking away her reservations, she unfastened her dressing gown and slid it from her shoulders. Then she draped it over a chair and made her way to the bed. She pulled back the coverlet and slid between the bedclothes. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she laid her head on the pillow. “Is this all right?”

“It’s fine.”

Had his voice gone husky?

Ada made herself yawn, hoping it would help her feel tired. At the moment, she was rife with anticipation and that simply wouldn’t do. “I’ve so much to do before I leave Tuesday.” Perhaps conversation would distract them.

He threw off his dressing gown, and she noticed he was wearing a nightshirt, unlike the other nights she’d come to his room. Disappointment curled through her, for which she quickly and silently admonished herself.

“I was hoping to take you to see the remains of the castle stones tomorrow. If you have time,” he said, situating himself in the bed. With each shift of his body, she was more aware of their proximity. In a bed.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t done this before! Just last night, in fact. Tonight was somehow different. They intended to sleep together.

Sleep!

What he said finally permeated her overtaxed brain. She turned her head on the pillow to look at him. “I’d love to see the castle stones.” She’d stay up all night tomorrow to finish her work if necessary.

He lay on his side facing her, his hand propping his head. “Excellent. I’ll have Mrs. Debley pack a picnic.”

“That sounds delightful.” Decadent, really. Picnics near castle ruins were for other people of a higher station than Ada. Oh, she’d taken her charges on picnics, but that was completely different. “When I was a governess, I would arrange picnics for the children. But honestly, they were for me. I enjoyed the change of scenery. However, I never seemed to remember that they ran amok, and it was far more work than eating inside.”

“How long were you a governess?”

“Four years.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Mostly.”

His brow arched in that thoroughly alluring fashion that never failed to make her heart flip. “I’m surprised by your short answers. I expected you to tell me all about the household, the children, and probably ten other things.”

Ada laughed. She absolutely would have done that, but she didn’t like discussing that period of her life. “In the end, I don’t think it was the right kind of work for me.”

“I wouldn’t think so. You should be organizing battalions, not a few children.”

His high opinion filled her with pride. Ten years ago, she never would have imagined where she was today. In a viscount’s bed.

But it isn’t like that!

You’d like it to be.

She ignored the debate raging in her head. “While I was toiling as a governess at nineteen, I daresay you were devouring London at the same age.”

“Devouring? That’s an awfully colorful word.”

“What were you doing then? Attending balls and routs or other, more salacious things?” She waggled her brows at him.

His lip quirked into a half smile, and Ada nearly gasped at his beauty, even with the scar marring his face. It was probably good that he never smiled fully. No woman in a fifty-mile radius would accomplish anything.

“I mostly made a nuisance of myself along with Lucien and Dougal MacNair.”

“I know Dougal,” Ada said, thinking of the charming second son of the Earl of Stirling who frequented the Phoenix Club. He was still a close friend of Lucien’s.

“Dougal knows bloody everyone—like Lucien. They’re birds of a feather. I suppose we all were since we were second sons. We felt it was our duty to make merry and, ah, commit debauchery. Our favorite haunt was the Siren’s Call.”

“That sounds like a bawdy house.”

“We’d hoped it was, and it certainly seemed to be with plenty of beautiful women to look at. But that’s all we were allowed to do—look. It’s a gaming hell run by women. They drew men in with their seductive appearance and behavior. In return, they offered excellent food and drink and some of the finest gaming in London.”

“That’s bloody brilliant. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of them.”

“You aren’t their audience,” he said with a smirk.

She turned her body toward him, astounded at what he was sharing and wanting to know everything he was willing to reveal. “No, I suppose not. That was your favorite place to go?”

“We certainly didn’t like balls or”—he shuddered—“Almack’s.”

“I can see why not. Committing debauchery there would be frowned upon. So did you?” she asked enthusiastically, wanting every detail.

Now he actually laughed. It was short, but so sweet, she wanted to weep with joy. “I have never been to Almack’s, nor do I ever want to go. I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t want me.” His voice had trailed off, and she thought she glimpsed the darkness creeping back.

“The Phoenix Club is a wonderful counterpoint to Almack’s. We have weekly assemblies, and while you do have to be a member or sponsored for attendance by a member, our punch won’t make your face pucker. Furthermore, the membership isn’t stuffy or self-important. Indeed, we boast many people who would not be invited to White’s or Brooks’s or other private clubs—and not just women. Though the inclusion of my sex is what truly sets us apart.”

“You sound quite proud of the club.”

Her chest swelled. “I am. Lucien and Evie have done a wonderful job. I’m privileged to be a part of it.”

“Are you trying to convince me to join?”

“I wasn’t intentionally, but you should.”

He took his head from his hand and moved to his back, his attention directed straight up, toward the bed hangings. “Assemblies don’t interest me.”

“Whisky does. And perhaps gaming? It sounds as though you enjoyed it in your youth.”

“I enjoyed a great many things then that I wouldn’t now. I’m a much different person.”

She worried she’d pushed too far, that he was withdrawing. “We all change with time,” she said carefully. “And that’s probably a good thing. I’m a much different person too. Hopefully I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

His head turned sharply toward her. “You can’t think what happened to your sister was your mistake?”

“I will always feel some guilt about it. I definitely learned from it.” And from what happened after. “There are…other mistakes, however.” Now she wanted to withdraw. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t ask.

Exhaling, he turned his head back against the pillow and faced the ceiling once more. “Guilt and regret are impossible to avoid in life, I suppose.”

“Yes. It’s how we manage them that matters.” She stared at the side of his face—the right side—wishing it was his left so she could move closer and touch his scar. Then she would put her hand on the other side of his face and turn him toward her so she could press her lips to his.

The kiss from the other night burned in her mind, and the memory aroused a fierce hunger in her body. But she was alone in her desire. He didn’t even know they’d kissed.

“Good night, my lord.” She turned her back to him.

“My name is Maximillian. But you may call me Max. If you’d like.”

Her insides clenched, and she fought to breathe. “I would like. I am Ada. Good night, Max.”

“Good night, Ada.” He moved, but she didn’t see how. She only knew he hadn’t come closer. “Thank you for staying tonight.”

She bit the inside of her cheek lest she say more, things that were best left unsaid. With just two days left, they ought not become friends. And they must definitely not become lovers.