Read Online The Worldly Widow by Elizabeth Thornton - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
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there wasn ' t a scratch on her, blood was everywhere. As memory flooded her mind, she quickly stripped out of her clothes and resolved to consign them to the fire at the earliest opportunity. The blood on them could not possibly have come only from Dalmar ' s wound. Dead men's blood, she thought, and was shaken by a shudder of revulsion.
When she was called back into the bedchamber, she found Dalmar propped up against pillows. Both right shoulder and forearm were bandaged. His face was drawn, his eyes closed. Against the starkly white sheets, his naked chest and shoulders glistened like copper.
Her eyes flew to Ransome, asking a question.
"He ' ll survive, " he said. "He ' s lost some blood, but it ' s nothing to worry about. I ' ve dosed him with laudanum to ease the pain. He ' ll sleep like a baby for the next hour or so. "
"And a physician? "
"That ' s the least of our worries. Look, I must leave you here. I have to go out, and I can ' t leave him unattended. " As he spoke, he removed a brace of pistols from a cabinet. "You ' ll be safe enough as long as you keep the door locked and bolted after me. I ' ve left the bottle of laudanum on the mantelpiece. If he gets restless, you can give him a couple of drops. "
"Where are you going? "
"To get reinforcements. Colonel ' s orders. "
He took her by the elbow and walked her to the front door. "I don ' t suppose you know how to use one of these? " he said, extending one of the wicked-looking pistols.
Annabelle drew back. "No. I ' ve never had occasion to. "
He nodded. "Then it ' s best not to leave it with you. When I go through that door, I want you to lock it and bolt it behind me, and don ' t open it for anyone until I return. "
As soon as the door closed behind him, Annabelle turned the key and shot home the bolt. She returned to the bedchamber and moved about nervously, her eyes coming to rest frequently on the still figure on the bed. From below, the sounds of rampage and carnage gave no evidence of lessening. After a time, she curled up in an armchair and brooded in silence.
She must have dozed. Her head suddenly jerked, and she was startled into wakefulness. Every muscle in her body ached with weariness and tension.
The man in the bed was stirring restlessly. She rose and went to check on him. There was no sign of fever, she decided, as she touched her fingers to his forehead. He opened his eyes and stared up at her.
"How do you feel? " she asked softly.
She had to strain to hear him.
"Water … please. "
She held his head as she carefully offered the glass to his lips. His eyes never left hers.
After a few swallows, he turned his head away, but before she could draw back, his left hand came up to capture her wrist. "Stay … please, " he whispered hoarsely.
"I won ' t leave you, " she said, and offered him a reassuring smile.
His eyes fluttered closed. "Promise? "
She hesitated, sensing in the simple question more than she understood. His fingers tightened on her wrist. "I promise, " she said.
By degrees, his fingers relaxed. "To the victor go the spoils, " he murmured, and smiled to himself.
Annabelle ' s quelling frown came too late. He had already succumbed to sleep. For a long interval, she sat unmoving on the edge of the bed, drinking in every detail of the face and form of the man who had somehow contrived to slip under her guard. In repose, his hard-chiseled features were softened, lending him a less formidable, almost boyish aspect. The man was wounded. Drugged. Helpless. It was hard to imagine that in the last several hours she had considered that he posed any kind of threat to her person.
Daringly, she pursed her lips and fanned his cheek with a puff of breath. His nose twitched. He was, she thought, like a sedated lion from which claws and fangs had been surreptitiously drawn. At the unholy thought, her lips turned up at the corners. Very gently, with her index finger, she prodded him on his good shoulder. Nothing. The lion was at her
When she was called back into the bedchamber, she found Dalmar propped up against pillows. Both right shoulder and forearm were bandaged. His face was drawn, his eyes closed. Against the starkly white sheets, his naked chest and shoulders glistened like copper.
Her eyes flew to Ransome, asking a question.
"He ' ll survive, " he said. "He ' s lost some blood, but it ' s nothing to worry about. I ' ve dosed him with laudanum to ease the pain. He ' ll sleep like a baby for the next hour or so. "
"And a physician? "
"That ' s the least of our worries. Look, I must leave you here. I have to go out, and I can ' t leave him unattended. " As he spoke, he removed a brace of pistols from a cabinet. "You ' ll be safe enough as long as you keep the door locked and bolted after me. I ' ve left the bottle of laudanum on the mantelpiece. If he gets restless, you can give him a couple of drops. "
"Where are you going? "
"To get reinforcements. Colonel ' s orders. "
He took her by the elbow and walked her to the front door. "I don ' t suppose you know how to use one of these? " he said, extending one of the wicked-looking pistols.
Annabelle drew back. "No. I ' ve never had occasion to. "
He nodded. "Then it ' s best not to leave it with you. When I go through that door, I want you to lock it and bolt it behind me, and don ' t open it for anyone until I return. "
As soon as the door closed behind him, Annabelle turned the key and shot home the bolt. She returned to the bedchamber and moved about nervously, her eyes coming to rest frequently on the still figure on the bed. From below, the sounds of rampage and carnage gave no evidence of lessening. After a time, she curled up in an armchair and brooded in silence.
She must have dozed. Her head suddenly jerked, and she was startled into wakefulness. Every muscle in her body ached with weariness and tension.
The man in the bed was stirring restlessly. She rose and went to check on him. There was no sign of fever, she decided, as she touched her fingers to his forehead. He opened his eyes and stared up at her.
"How do you feel? " she asked softly.
She had to strain to hear him.
"Water … please. "
She held his head as she carefully offered the glass to his lips. His eyes never left hers.
After a few swallows, he turned his head away, but before she could draw back, his left hand came up to capture her wrist. "Stay … please, " he whispered hoarsely.
"I won ' t leave you, " she said, and offered him a reassuring smile.
His eyes fluttered closed. "Promise? "
She hesitated, sensing in the simple question more than she understood. His fingers tightened on her wrist. "I promise, " she said.
By degrees, his fingers relaxed. "To the victor go the spoils, " he murmured, and smiled to himself.
Annabelle ' s quelling frown came too late. He had already succumbed to sleep. For a long interval, she sat unmoving on the edge of the bed, drinking in every detail of the face and form of the man who had somehow contrived to slip under her guard. In repose, his hard-chiseled features were softened, lending him a less formidable, almost boyish aspect. The man was wounded. Drugged. Helpless. It was hard to imagine that in the last several hours she had considered that he posed any kind of threat to her person.
Daringly, she pursed her lips and fanned his cheek with a puff of breath. His nose twitched. He was, she thought, like a sedated lion from which claws and fangs had been surreptitiously drawn. At the unholy thought, her lips turned up at the corners. Very gently, with her index finger, she prodded him on his good shoulder. Nothing. The lion was at her
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