Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(6)

“Do I have a choice? Stay. Flap your gums.”

“Shall I tell you about Greenwood Corners?”

“No.” Derek damped his teeth together and stifled a grunt. “About yourself.”

“Very well.” Sara approached the bed, taking care to preserve a discreet distance. “I am twenty-five years old. I live in the country with my parents—” She paused as she heard Mr. Craven’s panting groan. The stitch-taking was hurting him.

“Go on,” he said sharply.

Sara searched frantically for more to tell him. “I-I’m being courted by a young man who lives in the village. We share the same fondness for books, although his tastes are more refined than mine. He doesn’t approve of the fiction I write.” She crept closer and stared at Craven curiously. Although she was unable to see his face, she had a good view of his chest, which was covered with a great amount of dark hair. The sight was startling. The only male chests she had been privileged to view before now were those of hairless Greek statues. Above his lean waist and midriff, his chest and shoulders were powerfully muscled, and splotched with bruises. “Mr. Kingswood—that’s his name—has been courting me for almost four years. I believe that his proposal will come soon.”

“Four years?”

Sara felt mildly defensive at his jeering tone. “There have been a few difficulties. His mother is a widow, and she relies on him a great deal. They live together, you see. Mrs. Kingswood doesn’t approve of me.”

“Why not?”

“Well…she doesn’t consider any woman quite good enough for her son. And she dislikes the subject matter I have chosen for my novels. Prostitution, poverty…” Sara shrugged. “But they are issues that need to be addressed.”

“Especially when you makes money off ’em?”

“Enough to keep my parents and myself in a comfortable style,” she admitted with a smile. “You’re a cynical man, Mr. Craven.”

His breath hissed through his teeth as the needle pierced his skin. “You would be too, if you knowed anyfing about the world outside your stinking village.” The ordeal was making his accent slip again.

“Greenwood Corners is a very nice place,” Sara said, mildly provoked. “And I know a great many things about the world.”

Derek held his breath for a moment, then let it burst forth. “Dammit, ’ow much longer—”

“A few more,” the doctor murmured.

Derek struggled to keep his mind on the conversation with Sara. “Writing books about whores…I’ll bet you newer…joined giblets wiv a man in your lily-white life.”

Dr. Hindley and Worthy began to reprove him, but Sara smiled quizzically. “ ‘Joined giblets?’…I’ve never heard it put that way before.”

“You ’asn’t been long enow in the rookery.”

“That’s true,” she said seriously. “I must make several more visits there before my research is complete.”

“You’re not going back,” he informed her. “God knows ’ow you lasted this long. Bloody little fool, traipsing through the rookery at night—”

“This is the last stitch,” Dr. Hindley announced, carefully tying off the thread. Derek sighed in relief and fell silent.

Worthy left the bedside and came to Sara, smiling apologetically. “Forgive Mr. Craven. He’s only rude to the people he likes.”

“Will he be all right?” she whispered.

“Certainly. He’s a very strong man. He has survived worse than this.” Worthy looked at her closely, his expression softening into concern. “You’re trembling, Miss Fielding.”

Sara nodded and took a deep breath. “I suppose I’m not used to so much excitement.” She hadn’t realized how rattled she was until now. “Everything happened so quickly.”

“You must rest for a little while,” Worthy urged, “and steady your nerves with some brandy.”

“Yes…perhaps a splash, in a cup of tea.” She twined her fingers together. “I’m staying with friends of my parents, the Goodmans. The hour is late…they might worry…”

“As soon as you’re ready, we’ll have a private carriage convey you anywhere you wish.”

“Worthy!” Derek’s disgruntled voice interrupted them. “Stop that bloody whispering. Give the country mouse some money and send ’er back where she came from.”

Worthy began to reply, but Sara stopped him with a light touch on his arm. Squaring her small shoulders, she approached the bed. “Mr. Craven,” she said calmly, “you’re very kind to offer a reward, but I have enough money to suit my needs. However, I would be grateful if you would allow me to tour your club, and perhaps ask a few questions of your employees. As I mentioned earlier, I’m writing a novel, and you could help me—”

“No.”

“Mr. Craven, it is a reasonable request, considering the fact that I saved your life tonight.”

“Like ’ell you did.”

Sara was taken aback. “But those two men were trying to kill you!”

“If they’d wanted that, I’d be dead now.”

“Then…their purpose was to…to deliberately mark your face?” She recoiled in horror. “But why would anyone want to do such a thing?”