nbsp; ‘Dinner with Mrs Gilpin, then my horse went lame on the way back. What happened, damn it?’
‘Edward had just gone upstairs to check on the doors and windows. Miss Laura was sitting with Mr Thwaite and she said she heard a sound from the kitchen, so she went to look and this…thing rushed at her, threw her back against the door and went for her throat. But she fought it off – ’
‘And screamed blue murder, my lord,’ Edward interjected. ‘And I came running down and your man Jed came in through the front door waving his shotgun and whoever it was got out through the kitchen door before we could hold him. He’d forced the lock to get in.’
‘Who is hurt?’ Theo demanded, fighting the instinct to rush about checking on everyone, but Laura most of all.
‘I got a thump on the head, but it’s not so bad.’ Edward gestured to the darkening mark. ‘Had worse down the Mermaid on a Saturday night afore now.’
‘Mr Thwaite hardly woke,’ Mrs Bishop said. ‘Miss Laura was bruised on her back and her shoulder and she says it… he… had hold of her throat but let go when he heard Edward yelling.’
‘Where is she?’ The wave of relief made him queasy, but he managed to keep his voice steady.
‘Still with Mr Thwaite. We was waiting for you, my lord, then I was going to nail a board or two across the kitchen door and Terence is taking up the rest of the watch inside,’ Edward said.
‘Very well. I’ll send Miss Darke to her bed and sit with the Curate. Goodnight.’
Theo eased open the sickroom door and, for a moment felt a kick of fear – there was the still, shrouded body of the injured man and no Laura. Then he saw the hunched form at the foot of the bed and realised she had fallen asleep and drooped forwards, her cheek cradled against one hand that lay on the coverlet.
He checked on Will, who stirred and was able to sit up a little, eyes closed, to take a drink, but he fell back into sleep as soon as Theo laid him down.
‘Laura.’
She stirred at the whisper and swayed upright on her hard chair. Her hair was down in a thick braid and she was dressed in a modest, warm dressing robe, her slippered feet peeping out below the hem. ‘Um?’ She blinked at him, looking young and vulnerable and the sickness came back in a wave.
She could have been killed.
‘Theo. Good. Was worried.’ She peered at him, almost nose to nose in the gloom.
‘Ssh. You fell asleep.’ And was nine-tenths so still, he thought. ‘Come on, off to bed and I will sit with Will Thwaite.’
‘Where were you?’ She came completely awake suddenly, angrily. ‘Where?’
‘I’m sorry, I should have been here – ’
‘I was worried about you,’ she said fiercely.
‘About me?’ He had thought she was angry because he had left her and she had been hurt and frightened. But it seemed all she was concerned about was his safety. ‘I was delayed, it was nothing. But you have been hurt.’
‘’m all right,’ she murmured, her lids fluttering closed again. ‘Just so sleepy…’
Shock, Theo thought. He put one hand under her arm and urged her to stand and she did, obediently, then subsided against his chest with a soft sigh and held on. ‘Laura.’
‘Nice,’ she murmured, snuggling against him, her body so limp it was pulling him down towards the bed.
Damn. What now? He could shake her awake, he supposed, but truth be told, he was enjoying the feel of her so close and trusting. It felt right. Too right. Trusting, he reminded himself. Don’t let her down again. There was a chaise against the wall so he got both arms around her and walked her to it, lowered her down and started to disentangle himself.
‘No.’ Laura was not even half-awake now, but her grip was definite and he did not want to let go either. She had been attacked, violently, and he had not been there to protect her. Instinct told him not to leave her now.
Theo sank down on the chaise beside her, trying to work out how to disentangle the two of them. It was like attempting to free a kitten from a ball of yarn. Adorable, he thought. Dangerous. Oh what the hell. He was weary, but not as weary as he had been when he had ridden into the stableyard. Someone had to stay with Will Thwaite and the presence of a curate – even if he was unconscious – was as good a chaperon as one could hope for. Not that one was needed, of course. All he was going to do was hold Laura while she slept. They were both fully clothed, he was awake and alert to the dangers….
The lips pressed to his were warm and soft and yielding. Everything pressed to him was warm and soft and yielding and smelt of lavender and roses and woman. As dreams went, this was superlative and the nagging feeling that he was about to wake up was exceedingly unwelcome. Theo concentrated on staying asleep.
‘Theo,’ the dream woman was murmuring against his mouth. ‘Theo.’
‘Er… Excuse me.’ There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Their male throat.
Theo opened his eyes, discovered that he was awake, that he was entangled on a couch with Laura Darke, that their clothing was in a state of disarray and that he was in a state of painful arousal. And that a curate was lying eight feet away, head averted, exuding waves of embarrassment.