Kristen, at the doctor's insistence, followed him downstairs to let Constance know how her grandson was doing. Kristen needed to check on Hagan and change her clothes before returning to sit with Trevor, but she knew it could wait a few minutes. After all, she knew that if she were in Constance's shoes, she would want to know immediately how Trevor was doing.
The duchess got to her feet as soon as they entered the sitting room. She looked pale and worried.
"How is my grandson?"
"With a little rest, he will be fine." Harrison rubbed the back of his neck, his weariness showing just a little. "He needs a good night's sleep to shake off the whiskey, but Trevor is as strong as a horse, and he'll be on his feet by tomorrow, if I'm any judge." He rubbed the back of his neck again. "You could try keeping him confined to bed for a day, but I doubt you'll be successful." Harrison chuckled, then added, "Your new daughter-in-law was a big help to me." He turned to Kristen. "Thank you very much."
"She isn't my daughter-in-law yet!" the duchess blurted out. Her vehemence made Kristen wonder if the woman would do something to prevent the marriage.
"Now, Constance." Harrison shook his head. "I'm used to you being rude to me, but I'm sure Kristen doesn't realize you have a heart buried in there somewhere."
"I don't know why I put up with your insolence, Harrison." The duchess looked like an angry dog when its hair stands on end.
"Probably because you have little choice. Another physician wouldn't put up with you." He actually winked at Constance, then got his hat and started for the door.
"Kristen, you need to get some rest yourself. I'll check on Trevor tomorrow. Good night."
"Goodbye," Kristen replied automatically, then decided to leave, not wanting to be in the same room with the old bat. How could she have felt sorry for the woman? But she stopped dead in her tracks when the duchess called her.
"I want to know what you are up to, young woman. I'm telling you now that it will not work!"
Kristen turned slowly. "I beg yer pardon?"
"I find it strange that my grandson suddenly appears with a Scotswoman, whom I've never heard of, telling me he intends to marry her."
Kristen was determined that the woman wasn't going to get under her skin. "Was it not yer wish that Trevor marry?"
"Of course it was, but--"
"But not tae a Scot," Kristen finished the sentence for her.
"Precisely."
"'Tis sorry I am that ye feel that way. However, yer grandson seems tae think differently and practically begged me tae marry him. I guess ye never know when true love is around the corner." Kristen smiled at the speechless woman. "Now can ye show me where they sent my brother?"
"Certainly not," Constance huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "One of the servants will show you to the second floor. At least my mind is relieved that the lad isn't yours." She turned and called for a servant.
Kristen's eyes flared. "I'd be very careful how ye speak of my brother. He's ten times better than ye'll ever be. 'Tis a shame our relationship will be painful. I was hoping for something more."
"If it's money you are after, you'll never get a farthing!"
"I dinna think that ye instructed Trevor on how he can and canna spend his money. 'Tis funny, he struck me as being his own mon." Seeing the startled look on the duchess's face that she would dare to speak so boldly, gave Kristen a small victory, but she knew battling with this woman every day would be difficult. She followed the servant who appeared in the door, leaving the old bat to be by herself.
Upon reaching the second floor, Kristen resisted the urge to look in on Trevor, but instead went seven doors down to Hagan's room and peeked in on him.
"Hello, Kristen." Hagan glanced up from where he sat in a chair looking at a large book. "Isn't this the biggest place you've ever seen? Never been in a house this big before."
"'Tis grand. I hope we'll like it."
"I think we will." Hagan sounded like a grown man. He put his book down. "How's Trevor?"
"The doctor removed the bullet, and said he'll be fine after a few days."
Hagan looked very somber. He paused before he finally said, "I was worried."
"That's sweet." She reached over and ruffled his hair. "Ye'll talk tae him tomorrow, but right now ye need tae be in bed."
"Oh, Kristen."
She held up a hand. "'Tis been a bit trying today, so do as I say."
After getting Hagan to bed, Kristen went out and found her room was just as somber as the rest of the house. Rebecca had wasted little time in putting away her clothes and was just now turning back the bed.
"How is His Grace?" Rebecca straightened.
"I'm getting ready tae go back and check on him. But I think he'll be fine tomorrow, though maybe a bit sore." Kristen started unbuttoning her dress. "Ye know, I thought he was dead back there. When I think about it, we were all lucky tae still be alive."
"Yes, mum," Rebecca agreed as she helped Kristen into a comfortable day dress of dove gray.
"That feels much better."
Rebecca sat down on a chair. "Have you had a chance to meet the duchess?"
"Unfortunately, yes. She's a grumpy old bat."
Rebecca laughed. "That's an appropriate description."
Before Kristen knew it, she had joined in Rebecca's laughter, too. All the tension Kristen had built up was slowly ebbing away.
"I probably should have warned you about the duchess. My mum said she has never seen the woman smile, and she's constantly complaining about something." Rebecca blushed at her boldness. "I really shouldn't be talking about my employer."
"Ye know I'd never tell anyone," Kristen assured her. "Besides if ye don't tell me, who will? I'm a stranger here. I dinna see what the woman has tae complain about. She has a beautiful home, people who wait on her hand and foot." Kristen shook her head. "I don't understand. She should try living down on the docks, then she'd appreciate what she has."
"Docks?" Rebecca questioned. "I never did understand why you went down to the docks. Trevor said you came from a convent."
"I know." Kristen couldn't make up her mind whether to tell Rebecca the whole truth. She decided against divulging her background just yet. "It really is a long story that I canna comment on because I promised Trevor."
"I understand. I'm just glad you're here."
"Thank ye."
"As far as the duchess appreciating her wealth, I don't think she ever will. Some people never find the good in anything."
Kristen smiled ruefully. Rebecca was wise for her years. "Yer right, but I bet if we look hard enough we'll find some good in her."
"I'll leave it to you to find," Rebecca said. "The staff will appreciate it."
Kristen looked at Rebecca with amusement. "Get some sleep. I'm going tae stay with Trevor for awhile."
Kristen carried an oil lamp to Trevor's room. Just before she got there, she noticed the door was half-way open. Carefully, she peeked through the doorway and frowned. Constance was leaning over her grandson speaking to him.
"What has that woman done to you?" she murmured to him.
Great! Kristen thought. She could see it now. She would be blamed for everything that happened around here, whether she did it or not. She would take credit for the first wound, but not the second. Kristen bit the side of her mouth to keep from saying something she'd regret.
"Don't worry, Trevor." Constance patted his hand as she bent over the bed. "I'll help you see the right thing to do. I can't believe you brought a Johnstone under our roof." She sighed. "I do wish you'd wake up Trevor and talk to me." She sighed again.
"You remember Charity Fulbright? Well, she'll be here in two days for a visit. You remember how pretty you always thought she was? She would make you the perfect wife, Trevor, and she is English, not a bloody Scot!" Constance pulled the cover up and folded it back across Trevor's chest. "I do wish you'd wake up. We have so much to discuss." There was a moment of silence. "Well, I guess I shall have to wait until tomorrow. Rest now." She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "We'll talk in the morning."
Kristen moved back around the corner so Constance would not realize that she'd been eavesdropping, and waited. The old bat was determined to cause trouble, Kristen realized. Just what she didn't need. She could find trouble on her own. She didn't need any help. She'd been hoping to find a family, yet she'd only found more problems.
But then, Kristen was used to trouble. Seems it followed her, no matter where she went.
Trevor clenched his teeth as suffocating sleep kept pulling him back under. Every muscle in his body felt as if it were on fire, and an odd sort of coldness made him shiver as he huddled down under the blankets. He hoped Doctor Harrison had worked his magic one more time. He'd taken care of all Trevor's aches and pains over the years. He'd smile if the effort wasn't so great.
Kristen?
Somewhere, Trevor remembered her soft touch as the doctor worked on him. She had stayed to assist Harrison when most women would have fainted dead away. There seemed to be so much more to Kristen than just a common thief. Every day, he could feel her stealing closer to him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted to share his thoughts . . . his feelings, but he didn't know how.
And then he remembered how painful love could be. Kristen would probably leave him, too. He'd have to be careful.
Damn, his head hurt as he tossed and turned. Much better to let the darkness claim him again. Sleep. That's what he needed. Peaceful sleep.
When the hallway was free, Kristen moved quietly back to Trevor's room. She set the lamp on the dresser, then moved over to his bed and placed her hand on his forehead. She found it warm, but not hot. Her fingers trailed down the side of his face, and she marveled at how strong his features were. His square jaw was rough where he needed to shave, but he was beautiful just the same. Especially when he slept. His chestnut hair gave a warmth to his face, and she resisted the urge to run her fingers through it.
He appeared to be slumbering like a baby and not in any need of her attention. But something kept her there. Some unknown drawing force made her want to shield this man and that brought a smile. How could she protect him? The protectee trying to protect the protector. In a funny sort of way, Kristen knew she could save him from himself.
Trevor stirred slightly, catching her hand in his. Kristen watched his face as he slowly opened his eyes, trying to figure out exactly where he was.
"Kristen," he whispered her name.
"I'm here," she said hoarsely. "How do you feel?"
"Not worth a fig," he rasped.
"Are you in pain?" She smoothed the hair from his forehead. "Is there something I can get you?"
"Maybe a sip of water."
Kristen leaned over and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the stand. She slid her arm under his head and helped him sit up as she held the glass to his lips.
When she put the glass back, she wondered if Trevor had ever been this helpless before. She couldn't imagine so. She sensed he was a man used to doing everything for himself.
He was a man who needed no one.
A man who probably would never need her.
Trevor stared at her so intently that Kristen couldn't figure out what he was thinking.
"You know, Kristen, we are a lot alike." His speech was slurred by the whiskey he'd been given earlier.
As usual, the whiskey brought back unpleasant memories to Kristen, and she had to will herself not to panic. She had to stay by his bed. As she watched him, she realized that just because she could smell the liquor it didn't mean that he would become violent.
That had been in another world. One she needed to forget. Actually, Trevor looked so calm and peaceful she couldn't help but smile at him. "I dinna think so,” she said. “We come from very different worlds, and are nothing alike."
"That's true, but we are still very similar, you and I. We both use people to get what we want. Our present arrangement is a perfect example."
She nodded. "Aye, I guess it is.”
"Maybe that's why I understand you so well." He absently rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
"I think it's best ye get some sleep." She lifted her hand and let it drift down the side of Trevor's face. She wondered why she had this strong urge to touch him . . . to be close to him.
"Would you like to kiss me goodnight?"
"Nay."
One of his eyes opened a little wider. "Why not?"
"'Cause ye are sick, and ye smell of liquor." Every time his gaze met hers, her heart fluttered. "Ye know I have a strong dislike for the drink."
"Kristen," her name was a caress upon his lips. "I'm not your stepfather. I will never abuse you."
"Just the same, liquor has a strange way of making one forget who they are."
Trevor studied her intently as sleep threatened to pull him back to its silent world. He fought it a little longer. He could sense her nervousness, and he wondered how many bad memories she had. He never wanted to see fear in her eyes.
Sleep seemed to be calling him stronger this time and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Yet, he didn't want Kristen to go. He wanted her to stay with him while he slept. He knew that was being very selfish, but still . . .
"Why don't you get some sleep, sweetheart. I will be fine and you need some rest."
"But what if ye be needin' something?"
"Go." He squeezed her hand. "This house is overrun with servants. I'll be fine, and I will rest better knowing that you are, too. You know you could sleep here beside me. That would make me feel much better." He grinned.
"I'm sure it would." She tried to look stern, but a smile overrode her best intentions. "Ye really are a rake." She stood.
"Now, you have insulted a sick man. Rodney is the rake, not I." Trevor shut his eyes because the effort to keep them open was too great.
"Really." She looked at him doubtfully. "Good night," she said as she left the room, leaving Trevor to wonder just what this woman meant to him.
This business arrangement would be a sound one. Kristen wasn't one of those females who required a lot of attention. So, he'd be free to come and go, and he knew she'd be waiting for him when he came home. Yes, he'd have the best of both worlds . . . a lovely wife and his freedom to do as he pleased.
Trevor frowned. At the moment, he couldn't imagine not seeing Kristen every day. Then he reminded himself, it was just because she was new to him. Once they were married, and he'd made love to her, she'd lose all her novelty, and he'd be back to normal.
Damn, he was giving himself a huge headache. He began to toss and turn again, searching for that sleep. Of course, the whiskey wasn't helping. One thing was sure. He'd done a hell of a lot of thinking since that woman came into his life, and he needed to stop. He was the ruler of what he did and said, and thought. He'd make a mental note to stay away from liquor, so he wouldn't upset Kristen.
Sighing, he finally let the welcome sleep pull him into a dream world. But there, in its midst, was a woman with hair the color of the sun on an early morning sunrise and eyes the color of the forest, and lips that tasted of strawberries.
Trevor Claremont, Duke of Chatsworth knew he was a doomed man.