Chapter 13
Thirteen
Alex drew in several shaky breaths and closed her eyes.
Her mind was reeling with questions, but try as she might, she felt too confused to think straight.
Her body felt numb with shock, save for her shoulder, which was beginning to ache abominably.
She swayed back and forth from the jostling of the carriage …
and then slumped sideways until thudding up against something very solid and reassuringly warm.
A slight shiver ran through her as she realized that her head was resting on Branford’s shoulder.
The earl shifted slightly and shrugged out of his greatcoat. Alex felt herself enveloped in the heavy wool as he tucked it around her and pulled her close. With a small sigh, she relaxed against him, vaguely aware of his arm circling her waist.
She tried to speak but couldn’t seem to find her tongue … and then everything became very hazy …
It was the click of the latch that drew her back from a fitful dream, and she was groggily aware of Branford drawing his coat tighter around her and guiding her down from the carriage and through a side door.
“W-Where …”
He cut off her question by letting the coat drop to the floor and sweeping her up into his arms. As he strode down the hallway they met a gray-haired man dressed in the garb of butler and carrying a single candlestick.
“Milord—” he began.
“Hot water and bandages in my chamber, Hopkins! As quickly as possible!” interrupted Branford as he hurried to the main staircase stairs and started up the steps, taking them two at a time.
On reaching the next floor, the earl turned down a short corridor and after opening an age-dark oak door, he crossed over a thick carpet and gently her down on atop the mattress of an immense four poster bed.
As he turned to light a branch of candles, Alex once again tried to make sense of where she was. “M-Milord, w-where have you taken me?”
“To my townhouse, Miss Chilton. I can hardly deposit you on your aunt’s doorstep until I have ascertained the extent of your injury.”
Alex attempted to sit up. “You needn’t …”
His fingers were already at the neck of her gown. She shivered slightly as he undid the top buttons and gently slid the material down to bare her shoulder.
A discreet knock sounded on the door.
“Enter, Hopkins,” responded Branford.
The butler came in with a basin and a length of linen on a tray. The earl motioned toward a small table by the bed.
“You may put it there. I shan’t need you anymore tonight.”
If the man was surprised at finding a young lady with a bullet wound in his master’s bedchamber in the middle of the night, he betrayed no sign of it, noted Alex. He merely bowed slightly.
“Good night, milord,” he replied and discreetly took his leave.
Turning back to Alex, Branford moistened a soft cloth and carefully sponged at the gash in her shoulder.
The gentleness of his touch took her by surprise.
“You’re very lucky, Miss Chilton,” he murmured as he tore a long strip from the length of linen. “The wound isn’t deep and if you take care, there should be no need to consult a physician.”
“I am quite knowledgeable about herbs, sir, and know how to make a salve to aid healing.” She looked away. “T-Thank you for your assistance, but I assure you that there is no need for concern.”
He finished bandaging her shoulder in silence. Then he shifted on the bed, forcing her to face him.
“No need for concern,” repeated Branford in a low voice.
He leaned in closer—Alex almost feel the heat from his blazing eyes.
“Then perhaps you can explain to me how a supposedly rational individual could act in such an addlepated, cork-brained manner.” His jaw clenched for a moment.
“Are you truly daft, Miss Chilton? Or merely as foolish as the worst of your sex are wont to be?”
Alex was taken aback by the note of raw emotion in his voice.
“I-I received a note concerning Justin. I was following the instructions …” She faltered, realizing how lame it sounded, even to her own ears.
“I see,” he interjected. “Is it your habit to blindly follow even the most patently absurd directions in the arrogant assumption that you can handle any situation that arises?” He grimaced. “I hadn’t thought you that bloody stupid.”
Alex knew he was right to point out the obvious risk, but that only made her feel more defensive. “What would you have me do?” she asked. “Stand by and see my brother murdered?”
“He is no longer a child, Alex. You should have informed him and allowed him to decide how to deal with the threat.”
In the heat of the argument neither of them seemed to notice his use of her given name.
“Oh, you think me a managing female?” she demanded. “How dare you, sir! You know nothing—”
To explain the complexities of her family’s relationships seemed hopelessly hard in the heat of the moment.
“Justin refuses to acknowledge that there is any danger. He thinks that I’m imagining it!” Alex let out a huff of frustration. “Well, do you think tonight is a bad dream?”
“Indeed I do,” he muttered through clenched teeth. In a louder voice he added, “Instead of haring off yourself, you might have come to me.”
She drew in a shaky breath. For some inexplicable reason, an image of Lady Cameron floated across her mind. Blond. Beautiful. Beckoning. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said curtly. “What possible reason have you to care about me and my family?”
He looked stung by her words. “I have little choice but to care when I observe a lone female of my acquaintance skulking off in the dead of night. Though you may not think it, I do have some sense of honor!”
Alex felt a sudden stab of remorse knife through her chest. She knew from Lady Ashton how much the earl had suffered from the vile rumors that had implied he possessed not a shred of honor. And as she met his gaze, she saw a flash of unfathomable pain.
A sob rose in her throat, and to her utter dismay, Alex felt tears welling up in her eyes.
Hells bells, she loathed ladies who turned into watering pots!
“I’m so, so sorry that you felt obliged to help,” she whispered. “It was never my intent to drag you into my eccentric family’s woes …”
Alex squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coursing down her cheeks. “Y-You must truly think me a donkey’s arse.” A humorless laugh. “Or worse.”
Silence.
Not a good sign, but she deserved no less.
Alex started to inch away but Branford placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. “Actually, I think you are the most courageous, redoubtable lady I’ve ever met. A fraction of a pause. “Though I confess you frighten me half to death.” He drew her closer …
Was it merely her febrile imagination or was he pressing a gossamer soft kiss to her brow?
As if in a dream, she tilted her head back, only to find her lips a mere hair’s breadth from his …
Seeing the look in eyes—a haunting flicker of pain flashing through a swirl of other emotions that she couldn’t begin to decipher—Alex leaned in.
Their mouths touched.
She felt him shudder, which suddenly broke the strange spell that had held her in thrall.
With a faint cry, Alex recoiled—
Only to be drawn back into an undeniable kiss.
The warmth of his touch sent shivers of fire and ice pulsing through every fiber of her being. Embracing the sensations, she joined him in deepening the embrace.
A moment passed—or was it an eternity? All sense of time seemed to drift into dream-like oblivion …
But then, Branford drew back with a harried sigh. “Ye heavens, forgive me, Miss Chilton—I should not have done that.”
“But I … I am glad you did,” she whispered.
His eyes lit for an instant, and then his gaze turned shadowed as he shook his head. “It was unconscionable of me to take advantage of your distress.”
“I think it was me who kissed you,” she whispered with a tremorous smile. “I-I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
“As would I,” he replied softly. “But I am not so devoid of honor as to do such a thing. Not like this.”
The room was utterly silent save for their ragged breathing. With his body pressing against hers, Alex felt the thud of their hearts beating in tandem.
It was a strangely comforting sensation.
A breeze stirred, and she was suddenly aware that her gown was tugged down off her injured shoulder, the chill teasing against her bare flesh.
Branford, too, seemed roused to the realization that they were playing with fire.
“I must get you home,” he said, and yet he paused for a moment to finger an errant curl that had pulled loose from its hairpin and had tumbled down over her shoulders.
“It’s like spun silk.” he murmured.
“It’s a dull mouse-brown,” replied Alex.
The earl smiled. “For an artist, you are remarkably unobservant. It is a rich burnt umber, with highlights of sienna.” He held a strand up to the candlelight. “And perhaps a touch of cinnabar with—”
“H-How do you know the palette so well?”
Instead of answering, Branford rose abruptly. “Come,” he said, “We can’t linger a moment longer.”
Perhaps was just another fitful flutter of chill air, but Alex thought she heard him add, “Or else there may be hell to pay.”
Once they were in the carriage and making their way through the darkened streets, Alex slanted a sideways glance at Branford.
He seemed lost in thought, his brow slightly furrowed as he stared, unseeing, at the curtained window.
She felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach.
Had he formed a disgust of her, thinking her no better than a …
A tremor ran through her. Feeling confused and miserable, she shrank back into the leather seat.
“Are you chilled?” he asked softly.
It was the first words he had spoken since they had entered the carriage.
She shook her head, not trusting her voice to mask her inner turmoil.
He gave small nod but made no move to bridge the gap between them.
No comforting shoulder to lean on … no comforting warmth from his arm round her waist.
Clack-clack—the wheels clattered over the uneven cobblestones.