Truce (Neighbor from Hell #4)(33)

Robert rolled him over. “This is for Elizabeth,” he whispered before he punched the man squarely in the jaw, breaking it with an audible crack and knocking the man out cold.

“What was that for?” Lord Blackward demanded.

“He was crying,” Robert said with a careless shrug as he headed for the door before he decided to kill the bastard.

* * *
Elizabeth was pacing the foyer when Robert strolled into the house along with her father, Lord Bradford and James. When she spotted them she stopped pacing at once. “Well?”

The men looked her over. She was wearing a long white cotton nightgown and a wrapper. Her father and Lord Bradford looked disapproving. James looked amused. Robert looked hungry, causing her to shift nervously.

“Go to bed, dear. It’s handled,” her father said as he kissed her forehead.

“Please tell me that he’s still alive.”

“He wishes he wasn’t,” James said with a chuckle.

“A little bit of an overkill, wouldn’t you say?” Robert asked. His eyes never left hers as he watched her possessively.

“I-I had to make sure he wasn’t getting back up.”

The rest of the men laughed louder at this while Robert continued to watch her. “Oh, believe me, my dear, he’ll never get up again,” Lord Bradford said.

Her face colored. She wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about, but she had an idea thanks to that night in the orangery. She had kicked him pretty hard.

Repeatedly.

“From now on, you do not go anywhere without an extra man to watch you. Now go on up to bed and have Jane fetch you some tea.”

“I sent her to bed hours ago. I’ll just go to bed.” She threw one last look at the men. Obviously the man was alive. That was all she cared about. That and Robert was safe, but she didn’t want to look too deeply into that.

* * *
Robert waited an hour until the rest of the men were relaxed and deep in their card game before he excused himself for the night. He made his way upstairs. After a quick glance around the upstairs hallway, he went to the family quarters.

He already knew which room belonged to Elizabeth. Thanks to all the times he’d snuck into her room to place something gross or dead in her bed he knew the way by heart. He listened at the door before slowly opening it. His ears were met with light snores. Cute little snores, he thought.

The door shut quietly enough. After a slight pause he decided to take his boots off. He didn’t want to wake her as he crept over to her bed. The only light in the room came from the fireplace, making it hard to see where he was going. He threw on another log and went to the bed.

Elizabeth was curled up on her side. She looked like an angel, his angel. His minx. He had to hold her. Now. He raised the covers and crawled beneath them. He curled up against her body and gently pulled her against him, careful not to wake her and not really caring if he did. Finally he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She was safe. She was here safely in his arms. With that thought repeating in his mind, he fell asleep.

Chapter 15

“That look isn’t going to work on me, my dear. Ask your mother,” Richard said without looking up from his newssheet. “You are not going.”

Elizabeth stopped pouting immediately. It usually worked. Well, only if her mother hadn’t already used the same tactic. Her mother must have asked to redecorate the pink sitting room this morning. That was fine since her backup plan never failed.

“You’re right, of course, Papa,” Elizabeth said.

Her father huffed his agreement. She picked up a plate and headed to the side table and filled the plate to the rim with meats, cheese, sweets and bread, noting that the servants had started putting out a spread large enough to feed a small army since the Bradfords came to stay with them.

It was at least three times more food than was necessary, but she knew that not a crumb would be wasted, not with Robert staying here. She remembered that he’d always had a rather large appetite, something that she’d teased him about when they were children. The amount of food that he went through in a day was rather frightening. Even his family seemed to be troubled by his eating habits. She couldn’t help but wonder how he wasn’t fat by now, but that was a thought for another time. Right now she had a mission to accomplish.

When she placed the plate down at the spot next to her father, she made sure the plate clattered loud enough to catch his attention. As she turned around to return to the side table for another plate, she saw her father peer around his paper to look at her plate. His eyes widened considerably. She turned her head quickly to hide her smile and filled a second plate with pudding, muffins left over from breakfast and a few scones and the rest of the raspberry jam. She placed the second plate near the first and sat down. Her father shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Elizabeth ignored him as she made a big show of spreading butter on a piece of brown bread. She brought the slice of bread halfway to her mouth, gave a little shake of her head and added more butter to it before bringing it towards her lips once again.

Her father spoke up before she managed to take a single bite. “Isn’t that a bit much, my dear?” he tried to ask casually, but failed miserably and for good reason. This was exactly how Heather started her road to spinsterhood. She went from having a figure other women envied to being rather plump all in a relatively short period of time.