Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 4

Four

P hillip hurt everywhere. There was not one bit of muscle, sinew, or bone that didn’t ache, tighten, or scream in agony. His thoughts were broken, mere fragments as a pulse pounded inside his throbbing skull. He tried to speak, but the breath in his lungs was too shallow. His limbs were like dead weights at his sides as he fought in vain to move, even an inch in any direction.

What happened? What…?

He struggled to catch hold of his last memories.

Cards…wagers…tunnels…blood.

He’d lost a wager to a man and agreed to fight in the Lewis Street tunnels…and he’d been attacked, outnumbered and beaten near to death.

“Rest now. You’re safe.” A soft voice drifted through his head. A sweet scent filled his nose. A familiar scent…

“Help…” The word was barely a rasp.

“Are you thirsty?” the voice asked.

He tried to nod, but his head throbbed. Only a whimper escaped his lips.

“Don’t move. The doctor said you must rest. Here, take some water.” A glass was pressed to his mouth, and he sighed as cool water trickled between his lips and down his throat. Christ, it felt good just to have this meager relief.

“I prepared some chicken broth. Would you like to try it?” the voice asked, almost pleading with him.

This time he managed to nod. Though the motion was almost imperceptible, it was hellishly painful. He had only vague memories of rejecting food earlier and crying silently as he wished for death in order to escape the pain. That must have been real and not a dream. He didn’t feel nauseated at that moment, so he parted his lips, and a spoon dribbled warm chicken broth into his mouth. He waited, expecting to toss his accounts, but the taste of the broth was actually good, so he opened his mouth again.

When she had finished, he sighed, his stomach full. And though it hurt his ribs, he felt better. So much better. A cool cloth was placed on his brow, and much of the tightness in his body eased.

“Sleep,” the voice commanded. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.”

He obeyed that sweet voice and drifted away.

After what seemed like ages, where he marked the passage of time only by being helped to eat, the puffy stinging in his face began to fade and he felt his eyelids begin to flutter. Soon he would be able to open his eyes and see.

“How is he today?” a deeper voice asked. Another familiar voice. They were friends. He was safe among friends.

“Much better. His face is barely swollen anymore. I was afraid they had broken his cheek or jaw, but now I think perhaps not.” That sweet feminine voice, the voice of an angel, spoke clearly but softly. It was a voice that brought a great flood of joy through him. He wanted to open his eyes, to lay eyes upon his savior, but he couldn’t. Despair would have choked him, but he knew that he would be all right so long as she was there.

The man chuckled. “Kent’s head is as hard as a rock. There is no way they hurt him that badly.”

“Oh, Graham, hush. This isn’t amusing,” the woman said. “We almost lost him—we almost lost you .” The woman’s tone sharpened as she chastised his best friend. He recognized Graham now, but so much was still hazy.

“I know, I’m sorry, Ella. I’ve been sick over all of this.”

Ella? Who’s Ella?

“I should never have let him go to the tunnels. Charles and I could have paid off the debt for him, but he wouldn’t let us.” Graham’s tone softened a little.

Ella huffed, and for some reason the sound made Phillip want to smile. When she continued to speak, her voice was colored with melancholy and a hint of frustration.

“If men could learn to forgo their matters of pride, many a woman would be spared such heartache.” There was a pause and a cough from Graham, and the woman continued. “Graham, you should still be in bed! You’re barely better than Phillip. Don’t make me send for Charles.”

Flashes of Graham in the tunnels, fighting to get to him, screaming his name before he vanished beneath a tide of fists. Why couldn’t he remember more beyond the cards and the tunnels? It was as though his life had been reduced to that one single memory, and all the pain in his body was tied to it.

“Fine, fine. I surrender. Lord, Ella, you’re worse than Mother. She was already lecturing me on a dozen types of tea I should be drinking to reduce my pain and swelling.” The pair of voices, Graham and the woman, were the only comfort to him. Their exasperation and teasing in turns was a light in a vast storm threatening to crash him upon a rocky shore.

The woman suddenly laughed, and the bell-like sound sent Phillip’s heart racing. The blood now roaring into his head made him groan.

“Go on, Graham, you woke him up,” the woman admonished.

“I’m sorry, Ella,” Graham apologized.

Ella … He remembered now. Ella, who’d kissed him with such wild abandon and made a man forget his pain. How could he ever have forgotten her? She was here? She was the one taking care of him? His angel, the woman who’d pulled him from the edge of death, was Graham’s little sister, the woman he’d done his best to avoid because she was such a temptation.

Her words to Graham sank in, now colliding with his memories of Graham being beaten when he’d tried to rescue him. Phillip struggled to speak.

“Hush, Phillip, don’t speak. You’re all right. Rest.”

What he wanted more than anything was to be able to open his eyes and see her. But his strength soon waned, and he slipped back into sleep.

Rain lashing on the windows and the chill of night woke him much later with shivers. Ella placed an extra blanket over him and murmured sweet words of comfort.

Sometime later, when the rain had ended and a fire was crackling in the room, he finally had the strength to open his eyes. Morning light bathed the room, almost blinding him. His first glimpse of Ella was hazy; she lay in a chair beside the bed, her body bent forward in an uncomfortable position as she rested her folded arms on the bed beside him.

She’d fallen asleep clasping one of his hands. Her fingers were warm, and he gave them a small squeeze. Motes of dust danced in the light, like shimmering flakes of snow that fell lightly into the golden crown of her hair. The silken strands were unbound and fell in loose waves down her shoulders. He moved his hand, slipping it free of her hold so he could touch her hair. He stroked it, then spooled it around one finger and stared at it in the light as she slowly woke.

For a time they gazed at each other, no words spoken between them, but he felt her searching his face, looking for answers.

“Phillip?” She gently caught his wrist as his hand began to fall. She held the back of his hand to her cheek, her blue-gray eyes spilling with fresh tears.

“Ella.” He sighed her name as a sense of comfort swept over him. He hadn’t been dreaming. She was really here looking after him.

“I’m here. Are you thirsty? Hungry?” She leaned closer, a floral scent teasing his nose. Lord, he could breathe that scent for years and never tire of it.

He found it a little easier to speak now. “What happened?”

Ella offered him some water. “Graham escaped the tunnels. He was badly hurt, but able to walk. He came to Charles. He thought you were dead, but he begged Charles to find you.”

“And he did. I remember…I thought it was Graham at first.” He puzzled over the blurry memories in his mind. “Was Lennox there as well?”

Ellen nodded. “They saved you. I’ve been here looking after you for almost two weeks now.”

“So long…?” Phillip stared at her for a moment, wanting to tell her the truth. That he had been nearly ready to die, but hearing her voice, feeling her touch, had been what saved him. “Thank you for caring for me,” he said quietly, but he knew she heard him. She tightened her hold on his hand and nodded.

“I would do anything for you,” she said. Then her lashes fanned down, and she blushed. In the morning light, her skin looked like alabaster kissed by a pale rose. She was so lovely to look upon that it hurt. But unlike his current condition, it was a pain he gladly embraced.

“Should I fetch Dr. Shreve? He was most anxious to hear the moment you woke up.”

Phillip nodded. It would be best if she left for a bit. He needed time. Time to remind himself that he had to guard his heart and not let her past his walls. She exited the room, and with her went all of his joy. Even the sunlight seemed less golden as it washed over the bed and the furniture around him. Closing his eyes, he rested for a bit, but a sound soon woke him. Graham was sitting in the chair Ella had vacated.

“You’re awake, thank Christ,” Graham said. His face was a red-and-purple collage of bruises, still quite swollen.

“You look like hell,” he said to his friend, earning a pained chuckle from Graham.

“And you look far worse.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Phillip cracked a small smile. Graham looked down at his boots, and his shoulders sagged.

“I failed you, Phillip. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go in there.”

Phillip reached for Graham’s arm and patted it. “You didn’t fail me. I failed myself. I was stubborn. My damned pride. But you got out and found help. I am thankful beyond words to call you my friend.”

Graham sniffed and wiped his nose like a child, and Phillip was stunned by his friend’s reaction. “You’re my best friend,” Graham whispered hoarsely. “You were there for me when my father died all those years ago.”

“And you were there for me when my parents died,” Phillip reminded him. His own heart swelled with a whirl of emotions—pride, love, honor, and embarrassment. But he was too tired to keep his usual reserve.

“Go on and sleep. Ella is happy to play the nursemaid.” Graham laughed. But Phillip knew he wouldn’t be laughing if he ever knew how much Phillip cared for her. Phillip closed his eyes again and listened drowsily as Graham shuffled out of the bedroom.

“I swear, Graham, if you don’t get some rest—” Ella growled from the direction of the door.

“I’m going, dear sister. Lord, you’re becoming a battle-ax in your old age.”

“I’m younger than you!” Ella protested.

Phillip’s lips twitched into a smile as he drifted off to sleep.

T he next week passed quickly, too quickly in some ways. Ella was overjoyed at Phillip’s progress, but she was afraid of what would happen when he was well enough to return to his estate. Soon her time of caring for him would be over, and they would go back to being people who’d shared a kiss once, a kiss that she’d wanted to build her life upon. And all he would see her as was someone who’d nursed him back to health. She didn’t want gratitude—she wanted love, deep, passionate, life-altering love.

As she entered his bedchamber carrying a pitcher of water as she’d done dozens of times, without knocking, a privilege many women would envy, she gasped as she came upon him half-naked. His valet, Marcus, was helping him dress.

“Oh!” She froze, too shocked to know what to do next. “I’m so sorry.”

Phillip gave a chuckle and fell back on his bed, still shirtless. “Marcus was bringing me a fresh shirt. Give us a moment.”

The mere sight of him being so wonderfully, scandalously indecent made her turn hastily back toward the door as she tried to forget the sight she’d just witnessed—not that she ever could. Even so wounded, he was handsome. All that hard muscle and his broad shoulders and…heavens, she was thinking with her body like a silly debutante. She wasn’t that girl anymore; she was a rational, sensible woman, not swayed by a perfect masculine form.

She dared not look over her shoulder, and continued to clutch a fresh pitcher of water, her face flaming.

“I’m so pleased to see you up. Well, sitting up, I mean.” She could have smacked herself for how silly she sounded. But she couldn’t deny the fear that once he was healed, he’d go back to his life and she’d go back to the proverbial shelf.

“All done,” Phillip promised. “You may turn around now.” When she turned, she saw he had changed clothes. He’d worn only drawers beneath the blankets, or so the doctor had said, since his broken leg was in need of constant watch for infection. But he’d needed to change his shirts frequently as he sweated through them. The valet bowed respectfully and departed. Ella waited for him to leave before she spoke.

She held up the pitcher. “I…er…brought fresh water, in case you were thirsty.” She certainly was, her mouth ran dry whenever she looked at him.

Phillip’s lips twitched in that almost-grin that made her knees weak. “Thank you, I am quite thirsty.”

She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “And I thought I could bring a bit of luncheon to you today? The kitchen has made some cold cuts and raspberry tarts.”

Phillip’s eyes lit up. “I am rather hungry.” Then he scowled. “But I’m bloody sick of being trapped in this bed.”

“I know. It must be so frustrating.” She set the pitcher down on the washstand and poured him a glass. He accepted it, but his expression was marred with a sudden frown.

“How is Graham?” he asked.

“Better than you and just as grumpy,” Ella replied a little tersely.

“I’m not grumpy,” Phillip shot back.

“You most certainly are.” Ella placed her hands on her hips and stared at him evenly until he grumbled an apology. “Dr. Shreve brought a Bath chair over for you to use.” She went into the hall to retrieve the rolling chair and wheeled it in so he could see.

“That’s for invalids,” Phillip countered.

“Yes, and right now, it will let you have a bit of fresh air.” Ella pushed it up to the bed next to him. “Do you want to try? Charles agreed to push you around in it.”

Phillip stared at the chair for a long moment.

“At least you’ll be outside this room,” Ella prodded.

Finally he nodded. “All right.”

Ella went outside and called for Charles. Then she waited outside while her brother helped Phillip into the chair and wheeled him into the corridor.

“Where to, Kent?” Charles asked with a chuckle. Phillip’s face was ruddy with embarrassment as he looked to Ella.

“The library. I have an indoor picnic set up.” She moved ahead of them to reach the library first so she could open the doors. Charles rolled Phillip up to the long reading table, which had been cleared of books and was now decorated with an assortment of cold cuts, a tray of tarts, and a tin of biscuits with a bit of wine.

She kissed her brother’s cheek. “Thank you, Charles.”

“Behave yourself now, Kent,” Charles warned with a chuckle, and then he left them alone.

“Thank you, Ella,” Phillip said quietly. “I was afraid I would never escape that bed.”

She prepared him a plate of food and then one for herself. “I’m happy to help.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t busy planning a Christmas ball,” Phillip said between bites. “The balls here used to be a part of your family tradition.”

“They still are,” she said with some melancholy. “But things are… tense at the moment. Yes, I suppose that’s the right word. Charles is trying to convince Mother and me to visit our friends in Scotland, but I refuse to go while you and Graham require attention.”

“Graham and I will be fine. We don’t need to be watched by a mother hen.”

Ella cut a sharp gaze at him. That wasn’t she’d been called that by her brothers and she didn’t like it now when Phillip said it. “I’m not a mother hen.”

Phillip sighed and leaned back in the Bath chair. “I only meant that you care for others too much and barely at all for yourself.” He opened his eyes. The sunny warmth of the library made his blue eyes bright and revealed the russet strands in his dark hair.

“I suppose it’s because my family had to care for me when I was younger. I was quite ill most of my early youth.”

“But you aren’t anymore?” Phillip asked.

“No, I’m not, though my family still sometimes requires convincing.”

“Then go and live your life. You should be at balls, finding a man who will worship you and?—”

She waited for him to finish, but only silence came. “And?”

“Move on,” Phillip finally said. “You let life freeze you in place, Ella.”

For some reason, his words cut her deeply. She wasn’t frozen. Was she?

She’d been waiting, waiting for Phillip to finally see her as a woman, but even now he was still treating her like a child. Even after that night in the garden two years ago. She got to her feet and walked over to the windows, smoothing her rose-colored skirts as she watched snow fall thick and white on the gardens. Her stomach knotted, and she felt that if she dared to move, she’d toss her accounts.

“I think I should return to my room and rest. The doctor should be by to visit shortly,” Phillip said. His words were a dagger to her heart.

She swallowed her pride and her hurt as she turned to help him. He shook his head and moved his hands on the wheels, pushing himself. That only made her despair deepen.

“I’ll have Marcus help me.” He wheeled to the door and pulled the bell cord, which brought Marcus to him. The valet gave Ella an apologetic look as he wheeled Phillip away. Ella watched him go, feeling strangely numb. She had waited all these years to see if he would notice her, care about her, love her?

I’ve been such a silly, childish fool.

Ella turned to stare out the window again, watching the light fade into evening. She had not moved once in several hours, and her body was stiff as she turned to leave the library. Inside she felt cold and numb, as though she’d spent the last few hours in the gardens without a coat.

“Ella?” Charles stood in the doorway. “Phillip has just left for his townhouse. Dr. Shreve thought it was safe enough for him to be moved. I thought you should know. He said to thank you for all that you’ve done.”

Ella bit her lip as tears filled her eyes.

Do not cry. You must not let him see any tears .

Charles came deeper into the library. “Little bit?” She knew he would see through her if she tried to hide her pain.

“I’m fine, Charles. Truly.”

Please go. Leave me to my broken heart.

“Ella…” The way he said her name, he knew without even seeing her face. Charles always knew her, as the oldest child always knows the youngest. It was a bond they’d shared since she was born.

She spun to look at him, her lips quivering as she desperately tried to hold herself together. “Charles.”

“Yes?”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Her brother joined her at the window in quiet contemplation.

He clasped his hands behind his back and watched the evening shadows upon the snow with her. “Love at first sight?”

“Yes. As though the person you saw that first time belonged to you, even before you knew their name.” She expected her brother to tease her, to remind her that she was forever too young to fall in love and get married. But he didn’t.

“I know the feeling exactly. You wonder how on earth you could even draw breath all the days before you set your eyes upon them. Because once you’ve seen them, everything else simply fades compared to their brilliance.”

Ella’s lips parted in stunned silence. He’d never spoken of love before, never kept a mistress for more than a few months. Yet now he was utterly changed. He seemed settled, grounded in a way he’d never been before.

“You speak of Lily Wycliff?” she asked.

“And you speak of Phillip?” he replied.

She gave his arm a tender squeeze and kissed his cheek before she left him to gaze upon the snow. “Perhaps one of us will have true happiness.”

As she left the library, she glimpsed her book about Pompeii. She hadn’t read it in five long years.

I know how their story ends; it is time I let go of the past.