Penny woke with a start, bolting up from the bed, clutching the sheets tightly to her body, heart pounding though she did not know what had woken her. It took a minute for her to come fully to her senses and realize where she was. She blinked, but the darkness that surrounded her vision did not lift, and neither did the strange rasping sound that seemed to fill the entire room. It sounded as though someone was in the room with her and was struggling to take a breath. She shook her head to clear her sleep-dulled senses and groped about till her fingers brushed the little bedside table, hoping to find an unlit candle and a tinderbox. The sound turned into a rasping cough, and Penny realized with a jolt that Phillip was in the room with her. Was he the one making those distressed noises? she wondered, even as her fingers thankfully felt the tinderbox.
She carefully struck the match, the brief flare of light illuminating the room, and she reached for the candle and lit it, then pushed off from the bed, sucking a breath as her bare feet came in contact with the cold floor. Penny walked over to where Phillip lay and held the candle up to examine him.
He was still asleep, judging from his shut eyes, but even in the dim light, his face appeared blue and flushed. The covers had been flung aside
in fitful tossing, and he lay curled up tightly, shivers racking his body, and she could make out the rapid rise and fall of his bare chest.
Setting the candle on the floor carefully on the floor, she knelt down and placed her hand on his forehead, gasping in dismay when she realized how feverish he was. The cold rain and exhaustion must have affected him terribly, Penny noted, rising hurriedly to retrieve the jug of icy washing water the maid had left the night before. She leaned down and with quick fingers, ripped off the hem of her shift, the delicate material easily giving way. She then hastened to apply the wet cloth to his forehead. He batted it away weakly and murmured something unintelligible.
“Phillip?” she called softly, gently shaking him, but he did not stir, so she applied a bit more pressure. He groaned, and his eyes shot open, glazed with fever and unfocused. He squinted at her for a minute then relaxed and smiled.
“Penny,” his words came out in a whisper, slurred from sleep and fever. “Beautiful…”
“You have taken ill, Your Grace,” Penny said gently, removing the now warm washcloth and dipping it in fresh water. “You should not have stayed out in the rain too long.” She wrung out the cloth and placed it on his head, gasping when his hand shot out to grip her own, his grip firm and strong despite his condition.
He tugged her towards him, the move bringing her a few inches from his face, and his hot breath fanned over her face. She struggled, but he seemed to be possessed by some kind of demon, for with another tug, she lost her balance and fell across his chest, his skin burning her through the thin fabric of her shift.
“Phillip!” Penny gasped, struggling against him vehemently, her mind in a panic. Dear God, his grip was so tight; she was certain it would leave bruises on her skin in the morning. “Let me go this instant. You are not yourself. Release me at once!”
Instead of letting her go, he wrapped both arms around her, effectively rendering her a prisoner within his arms. Alarm shot through Penny, and she struggled against him harder, her hands trapped under his
steel-like arm. She briefly considered screaming for help but quickly discarded the thought. It would only make matters worse if the deception were to be discovered.
Suddenly, she became aware of something hard brushing against her bare legs where the shift had risen in her struggles, exposing her thighs. Horror, mortification, and fascination swept through her as realization dawned.
“No! No! Let me go…Wake up…please…” she cried out softly, even as she felt his hands move down to cup her bottom, bringing her even closer to the evidence of his desire.
“Ah, Penelope, my sweet one” Phillip muttered, his mouth so close to her ears, sending involuntary shivers running down her spine. His mouth captured her earlobe, sucking it into its hot depths. “So sweet…” he murmured again, moving lower to kiss the base of her throat gently.
“Oh Lord!” Penny caught herself moaning, his mouth doing the most deliciously sinful things to her body, and she ceased her struggles, shutting her eyes at the flood of desire that flowed within. His mouth moved up again to her ear, then to her shoulder, trailing hot kisses along its length, while his hands squeezed her bottom, melding her to him in the most scandalous way. She raised her hands to bury her fingers in his thick, luxurious hair, revelling in the silky feel of it as it slipped between her fingers. He moaned approval, and his mouth sought hers, delving and consuming her, breaking the last vestiges of her resistance, and she gave herself completely to his passion.
Suddenly, he moved, and the next thing she knew, she was pinned under him, his legs between her spread legs, his hands roaming all over her body passionately, cupping her breasts, eliciting a loud moan that Penny scarcely recognized as her voice. His hands caressed her bare thighs, sending her into a quivering mass of need, her own hands exploring every inch of him hungrily.
With a sigh, Phillip lowered his head and took her nipple into his hot mouth, sucking her through the thin shift, his tongue making bold strokes on her sensitive flesh, sending her spinning out of control. His
other hand travelled down her body, caressing her bare thighs where the shift had ridden up, stroking her heated skin, creeping upwards inch by agonisingly sweet inch towards the place where she burned for him.
“Please…” she begged him in a whisper, needing an end to this torture, desiring something more than just this. He grunted in reply and reached between them to unfasten his trousers, taking her mouth again in an all-consuming kiss that robbed her of breath and sense.
His mouth left hers, trailing soft kisses down her neck and shoulders, then suddenly, she felt him go limp, and his breathing evened out. Penny opened her eyes in confusion, her eyes going to his face, widening the moment she realized he had fallen unconscious, no doubt overcome by the fever. Reality came crashing back down on her, and she felt the waves of guilt, shame and horror wash over her. She choked back a sob, though tears of shame spilled down her cheeks, even as his weight pinned her to the floor. She placed her palms on his chest and shoved, but he didn’t budge, his head lolling to the side as his breath quickened.
“Oh God…what have I done?” she whispered, amidst her tears, pushing against him with all her might, and finally, he rolled off her. She sprang up and straightened her clothing, staring down at his sleeping form. He appeared to be in distress, so she picked up the discarded cloth and resumed her ministrations, letting the tears stream unchecked down her face as she soothed him with soft whispers, then rose again, picking up her gown and dressed hurriedly. She needed to inquire from the innkeeper if it was possible to summon a physician immediately.
She made her way downstairs, following the sounds of boisterous voices to the taproom, pushing the door open, revealing a crowded room, hazy with the smoke from several tobacco pipes. She hesitated in the doorway, her eyes searching for Mr. Potter. Several pairs of eyes turned her in surprise, but she ignored the inquiry and stepped further into the room.
Fortunately, the innkeeper spotted her and bustled forward. “Your Grace!” he exclaimed pleasantly, even though there was a worried frown on his brow. “I hope there is no problem with your rooms?”
She shook her head and leaned forward so he could hear her properly over the din. “My husband has taken ill. Is there any way we can get hold of a physician immediately?”
He thought for a moment then his face brightened. “You are more than fortunate tonight, Your Grace. There is a most distinguished physician lodging here at the moment. Doctor Lakesham caters to the health of quite a number of prominent personages in Scotland on his way to London. If you will take a seat, Your Grace, I will inform him that his services are needed at once.”
“Thank you, Mr. Potter. I prefer to stand.”
He nodded and hurried away towards a table, bending to speak to a gentleman seating by himself nursing a tankard of beer. Penny felt the slightest bit of alarm. The last thing she wanted was a drunk man examining Phillip, but as she watched, the man nodded and looked towards her, then rose and approached, his steps steady and quick.
He bowed smartly, his eyes sparkling with a reassuring intelligence. “Your Grace, Mr. Potter informs me His Grace is ill?”
“Yes, he is…and…and he is quite delirious too.” She felt hot colour suffuse her cheeks as she remembered just how he had been delirious, grateful for the dim lighting in the room. “Please help me.”
“Allow me to fetch my bag, and then I will join you in your chamber immediately. Have Mr. Potter send up some hot water and cloths.”
She nodded gratefully, and he hurried off while she relayed his instructions to the innkeeper then returned to her room. Phillip still lay in troubled sleep. The covers she’d draped over him before leaving had been kicked off. The thought occurred to her that the doctor would find it extremely odd for her “husband” to be on the floor. She studied Phillip for a moment, worrying her lower lip as she tried to devise a way to move him to bed. He appeared to be twice her size, and any solo attempt to move him would be futile.
Finally, she leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Phillip…please wake up…You have to help me.”
He muttered something in reply but did not pay her any heed. She sighed and slipped her arms under his shoulders, wincing at how hot his skin was and managed to get him in a sitting position; so heavy he was, she was panting hard.
A knock sounded, and she let go of him then hurried to the door.
To her relief, Molly stood there, a stack of towels and a bowl in her arms.
Penny reached for the towels, then gestured the maid inside. “You must help me move my husband to the bed before the doctor arrives,” she pleaded. Molly nodded without a word, and the two women struggled to lift Phillip, not an easy task considering he could have easily carried each woman. With great effort, the exhausted women finally managed the task just as another knock sounded and the doctor announced his presence.
“Thank you,” Penny said to the girl, who smiled shyly in return and went to open the door.
Penny hovered anxiously while the doctor examined Phillip. He finally straightened and turned to her. “It is just as I feared, Your Grace. He has got the fever. Did he go out in the rainstorm last night?”
“Yes…we walked from the bridge, and the rain caught up with us, then he went back out again. Is it serious?”
He shook his head and handed her a bottle filled with a murky brown liquid. “Fortunately, he should be all right in a day or two. You must give him this medicine every four hours till the fever breaks. Make sure he has enough liquids in him too.”
Penny took the bottle, her heart sinking as she realized what Doctor Lakesham had said a day or two? Surely that would be too much time wasted; Edward and Jane might already be wed and well on their way back in two days. She stifled a cry of dismay, her gaze falling on Phillip who still looked so pale, with an occasional fit of shivering. She couldn’t very well leave him here in this condition. Her heart torn with worry and concern, she nodded and thanked the doctor who was gathering his equipment back in the leather bag.
He finished packing and turned to her once more, the bag in his hand. “I will return to check on his improvement in the morning, but if he should suddenly turn worse, do not hesitate to send for me.”
“Of course, thank you so much, doctor.”
Alone with Phillip once more, Penny drew a chair closer to the bedside, sinking onto it in exhaustion and resumed her administrations on his forehead with the wet towel.
***
Phillip felt as though his entire body had been had at with a mallet. What the devil had happened to him during the night? He pried open one eye, squinting when the blasted sunlight almost seared his eyelids. Was he drunk? he wondered, and why was it so bloody warm? Where was that useless valet of his, and why had the fool opened the drapes this early in the morn? He made a mental note to relieve the man of his position. He opened his mouth to call out, but all that came out was a strangled moan, and his mouth felt as though it were stuffed with foul tasting wool. What the hell! Through the haze of his thoughts, he suddenly became aware of singing…A woman singing? Why would a woman be in his room in the first place? He never brought his paramours home.
“You’re awake!” a soft feminine voice exclaimed in relief, and he felt a soft, cool hand on his brow. “Thank God you are all right. I have been so worried.”
Huh? He turned his head towards the sound, and Penny’s smiling face filled his vision. He opened his mouth again, but the same croak as before was all that came out.
“Oh! Let me get you some water to drink.” She rose in a rustle of fabric, and moments later, a cup of cool water was pressed against his parched lips. “You will have to rise a little so the water does not spill.”
He did as she asked, moving to prop himself up against the pillows, the small effort strangely draining him of energy. The water provided some measure of relief, and he finally was able to speak.
“What happened?” he rasped, feeling tired. “The last thing I remember is going to sleep on the floor. What time is it?”
“You fell ill, but you must not talk right now. I will have some soup brought up.” She rose up to go, but his hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
“What time is it, and why the bloody hell are you not on your way to find your brother?” he asked firmly. To his surprise, she jerked away from his touch as though she had been burned. Hmm, interesting.
“I could hardly leave you to your fate,” she said quietly, her expression carefully shuttered as though she had something she wished to hide. “You were very ill.”
“How long?”
“Three days.” She turned away and left the room.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered, shoving aside the covers and swinging his legs over the side. The movement set his head spinning, and he fell back onto the bed, shutting his eyes till he was certain the room had stopped spinning before opening them again. He found himself staring up at the window, and even from this angle, it was obvious the sun was up and about. His mind wandered to Penny. She had stayed behind, risking her brother’s safety to help him out, when it would have been so easy to have paid a nurse to take care of him while she continued on her journey. She had looked so tired, yet the circles under her eyes did nothing to detract from her beauty…and that voice…
Penny gripped the rails as she descended the stairs, exhaustion sweeping through her in waves. The past three days had been especially difficult, in between caring for Phillip and incessant worry about Edward and Lucy. Thank heavens he was finally awake and on the mend; at least she wouldn’t have him to worry about anymore.
Crossing the main room, she spotted her new friend, Charlotte Bingham, standing by the door, talking to the innkeeper. Penny noted the small bag by her feet and recalled her saying she would be leaving for London today as her stage coach was finally ready to depart. Charlotte spotted Penny and hurried over, her red hair catching in the sunlight streaming through the door.
“Your Grace! I’m so glad I saw you before my departure,” the girl exclaimed, bobbing a curtsy even though Penny had tried to dissuade her from doing so several times. Pretending to be a duchess was one thing, but having people who under normal circumstances would treat her as a friend addressing her thus was quite the uncomfortable experience.
“I was reluctant to call on you in your room, for I did not wish to disturb His Grace. How is he?”
Penny smiled at the girl gratefully. “He has finally awakened. I’m just going to get some broth from Mrs. Potter. You are leaving now?”
Miss Bingham nodded towards the door where Penny could see other passengers milling about, getting ready to embark on the second half of their journey. “Yes, and I am so pleased to learn of his recovery. You look so worn out. Perhaps you should get some rest yourself.”
“I will. Thank you. Have a safe journey, and I certainly hope you are successful in convincing the Marquess.”
“May I write to you sometime? And if it’s not too much of an inconvenience, I could pay you and your husband a visit?”
Oh no, Penny thought in dismay. That would be most disastrous indeed. She managed an uncertain murmur and made her excuses, hurrying away to find Mrs. Potter. She earnestly prayed Charlotte would not try to visit her.
Mrs. Potter took one look at her and began to ladle some soup from the steaming pot, then filled another plate with food with firm instructions to ensure that she finish it and get some rest. Penny smiled at the woman, who had taken to fussing over her like a mother hen, and followed Molly carrying the tray back upstairs.
She found Phillip sitting up in bed, feet on the floor, and he appeared to be glowering at the carpet, though he looked up the minute she entered with Molly.
“What do you think you are doing?” Penny demanded, scowling at him. “You should not try to get up, or you will fall ill again. Get back in that bed this instant.”
He glared at her, making no move to do as she had ordered. “I am fine. Do not fuss.”
Penny bit back a scathing retort, mindful of the maid watching them in fascination. She simply directed Molly to place the tray on a table close by the bed. She dismissed the girl and turned back to face Phillip, planting her hand on her hips.
“You were much easier to handle when you were unconscious.” she muttered, handing him the plate of steaming soup, which he took and eyed sceptically, raising a brow at her.
“Soup?” he queried, even though his hands shook with the effort of holding the plate. Penny hastened to his aid, but he froze her with a glare.
She sighed and turned away from him, picking up her plate and began to eat. The foolish man was too proud for his own good. Fine, she would let him have his pride. Thankfully, he did not seem to remember their inappropriate moment three days ago. She watched him covertly from beneath the curtain of her lashes, watching as he slowly took a sip of the contents, grimacing at first, but to his credit, he slowly ate until the bowl was empty. She returned her attention to her food with a secret smile.
“Thank you, Penelope.”
Her head jerked up, and she found him watching her. Already, he looked much better, to her relief.
“You would have done the same if I was the one ill.”
He chuckled and lay back on the bed. “Do not be so certain. You seem so assured I have some redeeming qualities about me, but you are sadly mistaken.”
“There is always some good in everyone.” She finished her meal and settled into the couch more comfortably. A huge yawn overcame her, and she blushed when Phillip chuckled.
“Such an unladylike yawn.”
She shot him a look. “I thought we are married? You should not care if I exhibit unladylike behaviour, dear husband.”
He laughed and patted the bed invitingly. “Well then, ‘wife,’ perhaps you would like to take your place beside your dear husband. The bed is quite cold and lonely.”
Penny blushed as she remembered the last time she had been in a bed beside him. As always, the thought of that particularly steamy encounter brought a rush of guilty pleasure. She prayed he would never be able to recall that wanton moment when she had begged him to fulfil her desires. She looked at him, only to discover that he had fallen asleep again. She took a deep breath and reached for the book Miss Bingham had given her in order to pass the time. It was a Gothic romance book, filled with spectres and a heroine who, much to Penny’s annoyance, always seemed to be precariously perched on the edge of one cliff or the other, waiting for the hero—a man who reminded her of Phillip with that unbearable arrogance. She read until she fell asleep.