All About Seduction(76)

Oh God, how would she ask him to get a child upon her? Her chilled cheeks flashed with sudden heat. “I’ll explain later. Can you make it up this flight of stairs?”

The flight was narrow, without a handrail, the steps twice as steep as the main stairs.

“Up will be easier than down,” he whispered.

He searched her face, and she wondered how much he had seen earlier. And was Mr. Broadhurst right in that all she had to do was present herself in the sheer negligee and a man would know what to do? Would Jack? Was he well enough?

Unable to meet his eyes with her thoughts racing on such lurid paths, she ducked her head. “Hurry, please,” she hissed.

He complied, his arms quivering under the strain. By the time she had him in the empty bedchamber, he breathed like a winded horse. He sagged against the crutches. “Need . . . rest,” he heaved.

“Here, lie down on the bed,” she whispered. Fearing he might collapse, she held onto his waist as he slowly rocked across the room.

He shook badly as he leaned against the edge of the stripped bare guest bed. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead while he twisted and used the crutches to vault himself onto the high mattress. The bed creaked and he groaned.

She whimpered, fearing the exertion might make him develop an ague. And getting him back downstairs to his own bed before the night was over would strain him even more. Would he be capable of mating at all? She couldn’t ask it of him tonight. Or would she even have to ask?

The doorknob to the main hall rattled and both of them jerked their heads to see the distinct double break in the spill of gaslight under the door. A jolt of alarm made her heart flip in her chest. Stars above, if Mr. Broadhurst caught her with Jack . . .

The events of the night seemed so peculiar that Jack wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or riding the black mare. If this were his dream, Mrs. Broadhurst would be climbing into bed with him about now. Or if Mr. Broadhurst burst through the door, he would know it was a bad, bad nightmare.

He stared through the darkness at the door handle, seeing it twist just slightly but not enough to open. Mrs. Broadhurst must have had the foresight to turn the key.

Mrs. Broadhurst hid his crutches on the far side of the bed. While crawling over him, she unwound the bedcover. She jerked the spread to cover them and the bare mattress and unfortunately kept it over her.

He caught her arm, halting her frantic efforts. She jerked to pull away, but Jack had the advantage of seeing the terrorized way she stared at the shadows cast by two feet beyond the door. She feared what was on the other side worse than she feared anything he might do. He couldn’t see much by the light of the single candle, but he could see that. And it wasn’t any bogeyman standing at the door, but Broadhurst, who might be worse than any bogeyman.

“Hey,” Jack whispered.

Mrs. Broadhurst twisted and covered his mouth. Her eyes begged him to be quiet. But he couldn’t stop the grunt that left him as she bumped his broken leg in her haste to silence him. He wasn’t sure if terror left her hand as cold as a corpse’s or just the chill of an unheated room.

Her expression crumpled, but he shook his head and peeled her iciclelike fingers away. His breathing, still harsh from the rapid climb up the stairs, rasped in the quiet. He needed all the air he could suck into his lungs. He attempted to warm her hand by pressing it between his, but she snatched it away. After a second Jack twisted up to cup his hands around her closest ear.

“He wants one of the gentlemen to get you with child?”

She shuddered then pulled away, but her chin went down in a quick confirmatory nod. Then she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead she leaned across and blew out the candle, plunging them into darkness before he had a chance to truly glimpse the treasures revealed by the gauzy garment she wore.

Jack’s body pounded as he realized it was no dream, and he wanted her to reach across the expanse of the bed and touch him. He waited and waited. The darkness pressed him down.

She lay so still he wondered if she was breathing. He didn’t know why he hoped she might turn to him. He wasn’t a gentleman. He wasn’t even a whole man. She had probably never even considered asking him to help her in that way.

Fighting the laudanum, the exhaustion, and his disappointment, he pushed up on an elbow to watch for the shadows to move. What was Broadhurst waiting for?

Jack tensed, waiting now too.

Caroline had been sneaking down to his bedside night after night. Was what he’d seen and heard in the library her attempt at seduction? The night before the library, she’d been drinking. Had she tried to seduce one of the gentlemen then too? Seducing men she barely knew was probably awful for her.