Page 10 of The Banished Bride
“No. They simply pass out cold,” she remarked, taking care to lie his lifeless form across the full length of the seat cushion. She rapped on the trap and called out to the driver. “Ranley, we must stop at the next cheap inn.”
Alex awokewith a fuzzy head and the bitter taste of laudanum on his lips. He wished he might dismiss his recent memories as mere drug-induced hallucinations, but he knew they were all too real. He winced, not from the pain of his wounded shoulder but from the realization of what a cake he had made of himself. Over the years he had carried out over a score of more difficult and dangerous missions, always with resounding success. Now, on his last assignment, he had bungled things badly, and in a match up against an inexperienced country chit, no less. What had she called him—the most bumbling British agent in all of Christendom?
He winced again. Lord, maybe the general was right, he thought glumly. Maybe he was getting too old for this.
A slight swish of skirts caused his eyes to come open.
“Oh, yer awake, sir!” The female sitting in a straight backed chair by his narrow bed jumped to her feet rather nervously. Though she looked to be not a day under sixty, she moved toward the door with surprising alacrity. “I’ll go fetch yer wife.”
Wife?He must be dreaming—or rather, experiencing his worst nightmare.
“I see the laudanum is finally wearing off.” The face that bent close to his was nothing like a nightmare. Indeed, he had forgotten how attractive she was, with those smoky emerald eyes and cascade of curls. The shimmering color reminded him ofexotic spice, while their texture looked to be as soft as the finest India silk. And that odd mouth, strong and a trifle wider than might be thought pretty, yet softly rounded, just as a woman’s curves should be.
“… back in the morning.”
He blinked, realizing he hadn’t heard a word she had been saying.
“Still groggy I see.” Aurora pulled the chair closer to the iron bedstead and sat down. Her fingers brushed against his forehead. “But the fever seems to have passed. It’s a good thing you have a strong constitution, for the doctor said a nasty inflammation had set in.”
“How long have I been abed?”
“Two days.”
“Two days!The devil—” He tried to sit up, but the movement caused him to feel a bit lightheaded.
Aurora reached over and tucked the flimsy pillow behind his shoulders. “Perhaps that will help. I’ve also ordered up a bowl of porridge and some tea. You’ll likely feel a bit better once you’ve gotten some food down your gullet.”
“Thank you,” he muttered, his eyes avoiding hers. Lud, he was still appearing the helpless fool and it didn’t sit well at all. “How did I get here?” he demanded after a pause, his voice a bit rougher than he intended.
“Do you wish the full account, or an abbreviated version?”
His brow furrowed.
“Actually, you had better hear it all, since you will have to stick to your part of the story if you wish to avoid drawing attention to yourself. Which, as a British soldier on a clandestine mission, I assume you do not. Even innocent country chits know that.”
Alex could only nod, though his teeth set on edge.
“Very well.” She rearranged the folds of her skirts, revealing, just for an instant, a very nicely turned ankle.
He forced eyes shut so that he might pay attention to her words.
“I ordered my carriage to stop at the first inn that looked to be a bit less patronized than some of the others. Informing the proprietor that my husband had been taken suddenly ill, I had my driver carry you up to this room, then engaged a second chamber with the explanation that I didn’t wish to disturb your rest,” explained Aurora. “The added blunt made it unlikely they would ask any further questions. A doctor was recommended, and after a certain number of guineas changed hands, he was more than willing to forget he had to dig a bullet out of your shoulder. We both agreed the inflammation and fever must have been caused by a putrid boil?—”
Noting the reproachful look that crossed his features, she shrugged. “Well, we had to explain the bandages around your shoulder.” Picking up where she had left off, she finished off the story without further ado. “I also hired the innkeeper’s mother and wife to help keep watch over you at night, thereby further ensuring their cooperation as well avoiding being in the same chamber with a strange man. Oh, and as my purse is, as I told you, rather light these days, I took the liberty of paying for all this with the gold I found sewn in the lining of your jacket.”
Alex was rendered speechless for a moment. Holy Hell, he thought, Wellesley had found a rival for decisive action and deft maneuvering.
“Since it was likely issued by dear Whitehall, I figured I was entitled to it as well,” she quipped. “We spies are known to get paid by both sides on occasion.”
“Sorry,” he growled. “If you recall, I was feeling a bit ill.“
“Yes, no doubt the fever had addled your brain,” she agreed “There is no other explanation for such a patently ridiculousnotion.” Despite the edge of sarcasm to her voice, he noted that the line of her jaw seemed to soften somewhat. “So, you do not still think I am the dastardly spy you seek?”
“I suppose not. You have had plenty of opportunity to send me to my Maker.”
“Hardly an overwhelming vote of confidence.” However her lips twitched in a slight smile, and he found he couldn’t help but grin back.
“Thank you. For everything,” he repeated softly. “Truly. I am usually not quite so cow-handed as this. Indeed, I haven’t made such a hash of an encounter since—well, since I was much younger.”
