Chapter Two #3
Deandra had just finished when the maid, who appeared to be of similar age to Deandra but did not look very bright at all, walked in, caught one look at him, and began to eye him with ravenous interest. As an afterthought, she gave a quick but respectful curtsy toward Deandra.
“Mrs. Angel asked me to come up to relieve you, m’lady. ”
“Yes, Gladys. But you are also to serve as my chaperone while I am in here with Captain McTavish. Just sit beside the hearth and remain alert to assist him if he requires anything whenever I am out of the room.” Deandra picked up the tray that now contained an empty bowl and breadcrumbs, and started for the door.
“I’ll be right back,” she assured Sean, casting him another of her generous smiles.
“I’ll drop this off in the kitchen and then get you that nightshirt. ”
He nodded and relaxed.
But he had barely closed his eyes when he sensed Gladys approaching. She got very close, actually hovering over him.
What in blazes?
“Are you in need of comfort, Captain McTavish?” she asked with a giggle when he opened his eyes. She stuck her hand under his sheet before he had the chance to respond.
He moved with lightning reflexes to stop her before she groped his family jewels. “No, I am not in need of anything,” he insisted, his urgent movement causing him to end the remark with a yowl of pain.
Blessed saints!
“Gladys! Get back to yer corner as Lady Deandra instructed! Do not come near me unless I ask ye.”
She looked not in the least bit chastened. “Don’t you remember me, captain?”
“No,” he replied sternly. “I have no idea who ye are.”
“But you called me by my name.”
“Only because Lady Deandra mentioned it just now.” He truly did not recall this girl at all.
Gad! Had she been one of the many ladies he had casually bedded over the years? Where? It could not have been in Moonstone Landing, for this was a quiet village that had no houses of ill repute, and the local taverns did not allow that sort of thing to go on in their establishments either.
No, their encounter could not have been in Moonstone Landing. Everyone knew everyone else’s business in this seacoast village.
But seriously? By what slip of common sense had he bedded this silly goose of a girl?
Deandra would hear of it for certain now, and despise him forever.
Fool!
His past behavior was about to bite him on the arse and ruin his chances of ever courting Draco’s beautiful cousin. Deandra would never believe him capable of behaving like a gentleman, capable of being a faithful husband to one woman for all his life.
But he could be faithful to Deandra. He felt this deep in his soul.
He brushed a hand across his brow and wiped away the beads of perspiration that had formed. Why did he care what Deandra thought? He had no chance with her. And did he even want a wife?
He leaned back and groaned.
Yes, he needed and wanted Deandra.
Odd, how hovering on the verge of death brought clarity to a man.
Gladys mistook his groan for agony—which it was, except it was an agony of his heart and not his body. She scrambled back to his side, seemingly ready to raise her skirts and climb atop him.
Who had hired this girl, anyway? And of all the bad luck, why was she working here, at Woodley Lodge of all places?
“Sit by the hearth, Gladys,” he ordered her sternly, because the maid really did not seem to be comprehending that his rakish days were over effective as of the moment he had set eyes on Deandra. “Do not come near me again. Whatever was between us is over.”
“But I thought you liked me?” She appeared on the verge of tears.
He sighed, knowing this was his fault, for he had probably been drinking in some less-than-respectable tavern when he’d encountered her. What had he told her? But he knew he had never said anything to give her hope of something more than an evening’s frolic.
He never got drunk in public. He nursed his drinks, making it look as though he was imbibing along with his companions, for he often dealt with dangerous men and always needed to keep his wits about him. Always.
Nor had he ever lied to a woman to get her into his bed. They willingly joined him…as Gladys must have done.
“It isn’t ye, lass. It’s me. I am a reformed man.”
She cast him a blank stare. “You are?”
“Aye, Gladys. For quite a while now.” Since all of about thirty hours ago, when he’d opened his eyes on the wet sand to find Deandra gazing back at him.
She nodded. “I’ll tell Florrie, too.”
“Who’s Florrie?”
“Don’t you remember, sir? You took us both to bed last time you were in Portsmouth.”
Both? Gad.
“I did? Then what are ye doing here?”
“We came to Moonstone Landing because we heard there were lots of wealthy gents here.”
“Is Florrie also in Lord Woodley’s household?”
“Yes, sir,” Gladys replied with a witless giggle. “And we’d be most willing if ye’d like both of us together, just like last time.”
“Both of ye? That won’t be necessary. No, Gladys. Absolutely not.”
Oh, misery! One was bad enough, but two?
“Together?” Deandra spoke with a tight rasp as she stood in the doorway, her hands clenching the nightshirt she had just retrieved for him. “Like the last time?”
“Faith,” Sean muttered. “Just shoot me now.”
Had he lost all chance of claiming Deandra’s love?
Botheration and misery.
Why did she matter so much to him?