The Infamous Rogue Part 14

"My goodness!" from Lady Lucas.

The earl leaned forward. "Have you had success with the procedure, Dr. Crombie?"

"Great success, my lord."

"Can you cure a headache, for instance?"

"Certainly, my lord. I can treat both minor and serious afflictions."

Rosamond glanced at her brother. "Do you have a headache, Max?"

"Not I, no...But I was thinking about Miss Dawson."

The harridan dropped her fork and turned to her charge in alarm. "Are you ill, my dear?"

"I'm fine, really." Sophia quickly squelched the fuss. "I had a little headache earlier in the evening. I feel much better now."

"You don't look well, Miss Dawson," said Anastasia. "You look sickly."

Sophia soured under the implication. James almost snorted with laughter. She wasn't suffering from a headache or an injured ankle. She was suffering from unfulfilled l.u.s.t. The woman had a hard heart; she had dismissed him earlier in the evening. However, she had not dismissed the stirring feelings inside her. Not entirely. He sensed her arousal. And with steady encouragement, he intended to get her to admit those feelings aloud.

"Well, if Miss Dawson is agreeable, I wil gladly perform the mesmerism," said the healer.

Sophia looked cornered. It seemed every guest at the table considered it a good idea that she undergo the treatment to cure her "headache." If she resisted, she might be cla.s.sified as unreasonable or even reckless for putting her well-being at risk. And perish the thought she should be considered as anything other than perfectly agreeable.

A few minutes later they were all cloistered inside the drawing room. The ladies gathered around Sophia, who was seated in a chair opposite the physician. The earl stood behind the doctor, looking on. Meanwhile, James remained in the shadows beside the window.

The healer removed a luminous bauble from his coat pocket. "I want you to look at the timepiece, Miss Dawson."

Sophia sighed. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed at the watch as instructed.

James shifted his eyes to the timepiece, too, thinking about the fob watch Sophia had gifted him seven years ago.

"Concentrate," said the doctor. "Look into the watch...fall deeply into the watch."

James glared at the radiant timepiece in the firelight. He remembered the ticking sound coming from the watch Sophia had given him on the island. He remembered returning to the empty plantation house, the smal box sitting on the windowsill. He remembered admiring the fine timepiece, the polished gla.s.s face, the sleek hands...and then reading the elegant inscription on the back of the watch: May you rot in everlasting h.e.l.l.

"Close your eyes," said the doctor.

James closed his eyes.

"Take a deep breath."

James breathed in a slow and heavy breath.

"Concentrate on the pain."

He gripped the cold gold between his fingers, knuckles white, blood pounding in his ears. He let out a robust cry before he smashed the watch against the wall.

"Think deeply about the pain. Let it fil your mind, your soul."

He glared at the damaged timepiece on the ground, imagined grinding it into the floorboards. But he crouched beside it instead and started to pick up the pieces.

"Now I want you to stop thinking about the pain. Think about a pleasant memory instead."

James watched the woman from afar. So lovely. More lovely than any of the delicate blooms in the garden. She was kneeling, her bare toes buried in the moist soil. She cared for the garden, for him with such pa.s.sion. And it welled inside him, the profound and stirring sentiment...

I love you, Sophia.

"I want you to feel at peace...now open your eyes."

James opened his eyes, bewildered.

"How do you feel?" said the doctor.

"Wonderful," said Sophia. "My headache is gone."

James thought the bones in his breast about to snap. Blood throbbed in his head under the crushing pressure of the haunting memory. He pressed his fingers to the desperate pounding at his temples, crushing the pulsing nerves into submission.

The pain was alive and deep and burning in his belly. The old wound bled without mercy, fil ing him, drowning him.

A crescendo of applause.

"Bravo, Dr. Crombie!" cheered Rosamond. "That was magnificent."

"Yes, well done," praised the earl.

The doctor beamed. "It was my pleasure to be of service."

James swallowed the bitter bile that was churning in his belly, rising in his throat. What service? The blasted healer had ripped him apart. He was in greater agony now than he had been on the night of the earl's ball-on the night he had reunited with Sophia.

James glared at the coterie swarming around the "cured" Miss Dawson, and he vowed the witch would not get the better of him-ever again.

Chapter 9.

"M esmerism is so fascinating...is your headache truly cured, my dear?"

Sophia eyed the steam rising from the bath in the adjoining room. She longed to slip under the balmy water and let the heat ease her stiff muscles and sore temperament. But Lady Lucas was filled with vivacious energy. Sophia suspected she might not reach the warm pool before it cooled.

"Yes, Lady Lucas." She sighed. "I'm fine."

Sophia was wearing a silk wrapper, her hair pinned. She was sitting on the bed as the matron strutted across the room in quick and lively steps. But Sophia wasn't really fine.

She wasn't suffering from a headache...but a throbbing in her bones that refused to cease.

A pity the physician's performance hadn't put her in a trance and cured her ailments.

Perhaps the hot bath would fare better in that regard-if she ever reached it.

"The earl shows you great affection, my dear."

Sophia's heart swelled. "Do you really think so?"

"Oh yes. Do you see how he cares for your needs? He went to fetch the physician as soon as you injured your ankle. And tonight he even urged the doctor to heal your headache." The woman eyed the bright patterned rug as she paced. "Mark my words, Miss Dawson. The earl is very much in love with you."

Sophia had thought the same thing. It was a comfort to hear the matron express a similar conclusion. It proved she was not imagining the whole courtship...as the black devil had wanted her to believe.

The dark and striking image of Black Hawk filled Sophia's head. She remembered him standing on the balcony, strapping arms folded. He had concealed his fingers from her.

The fingers that had caused her so much anguish earlier in the day. The fingers that still disturbed her senses and tortured her mind.

She dismissed the man's mesmerizing features from her thoughts. She reflected on the earl instead.

Sophia sensed the tingling sensation in her fingertips. There was a thickness in the air, making it hard to breathe, and she took in a deep breath to satisfy her greedy lungs. Soon she would be the next Countess Baine. The thought put her in a near tizzy, for she was so close to achieving her dream. She even tasted the air of respectability in the opulent setting surrounding her. The lavish drapery and fine furnishings and bright carpeting reflected the tastes of a proper lady: one she was very much determined to become.

"If only the barbarian wasn't here," griped the matron.

Sophia's heart cramped. What about the barbarian? He was a wicked soul, irredeemable.

Had he misbehaved? Had he said something foul to Lady Lucas?

"How dare he force his attention on you, Miss Dawson. And right in front of the earl!"

Sophia was alarmed. Had the earl witnessed her exchange with the captain on the terrace? Had he observed the ruthless brigand whisper into her ear?

"What do you mean?" she said, parched.

"He handled you like an ogre this morning." The matron sniffed. "It was so distasteful.

You must have suffered sorely, my dear."

Sophia sighed. She had suffered, yes. She suffered still. It was seared in her memory, his adroit fingers working under her skirts, teasing her flesh until she trembled with need. But she would endure the discomfort, the restless energy teeming inside her. She would not risk betraying him as a rogue; the truth might expose her own infamous past.

"But I suppose we must be cordial with the captain," said the matron. "The earl's befriended the barbarian."

An oddity, that. But Sophia supposed the earl was just being hospitable. The captain had saved his sister from a disgraceful fal , after al . It stood to reason the man would be so affable and courteous.

"Let us forget about the barbarian, Miss Dawson."

A sound idea. She was f.a.gged. The day had boasted both successes and setbacks. She was one step closer to becoming the next countess. However, each step proved more troublesome with Black Hawk at her heels. She wanted to rest in the warm and inviting water and forget about her grueling ordeal for a few blissful minutes.

"The earl wil propose to you soon. I can sense it."

But the matron's a.s.sured words piqued Sophia's interest once more. She put aside the thought of a bath and relished the humming joy swelling in her bosom. "He wil ?"

"Oh yes."

"When?"

"Patience, my dear. The earl is a prudent man." She muttered, "Perhaps too prudent."

"How do you mean?"

"Prudence is a virtue...but it can lead to an indecisive nature. The earl might be struggling with the right thing to do: to marry you or not to marry you. We must plan our next move carefully. We must encourage the man to propose. What are our plans for tomorrow?"

"I think the party is going to the park for an afternoon of boating. The earl's sister is organizing a waterside picnic, too."

"Hmm." The matron twisted her lips in thought. "We will al be at the picnic, so there isn't much chance of him proposing to you there...but a boat ride sounds romantic. We must get you and the earl alone in a rowboat. He will surely ask for your hand then."

There was a quiver of doubt in Sophia's breast. "I was alone with the earl tonight. We were together on the terrace. He did not propose, however."

"Drat!" But then the matron paused and eyed her charge. "You were alone with the earl tonight?"

"Briefly." She was swift to impart, "He was a perfect gentleman."

The older woman's lips puckered. "I trust he was; the earl is not a rogue."

Unlike Black Hawk. The pirate lord had come upon her shortly after the earl. And he was a rogue, with his sinful touch and wicked words. She was woozy just thinking about their encounter.

"You must never put yourself in a questionable position, Miss Dawson."

Sophia's sensual thoughts snapped. "Yes, Lady Lucas."

"It is one thing to sail with the earl during the day and in full public view. However, you mustn't be alone with him in the dark, even for a moment. It might ruin your reputation."

Sophia's heart started to thud. What then would being alone with Black Hawk do to her reputation? Smash it beyond recognition, she supposed. The very thought was chil ing, and she shuddered.

"I understand, Lady Lucas."

The matron nodded. "Lord Baine is an honorable man. Even if a scandal had resulted from the encounter, I suspect the man would've immediately proposed to save your good name. He is not the sort to take initiative, but if pushed..."

"What is it, Lady Lucas?"

"That's it!"

Sophia pinched her brows. "What's it?"

"We will push the earl."

"Off the boat?"