Page 25 of Unchaining the Heart of the Marquess
“Oh?” he asked giving her another drink.
“You are not the womanizer they claim you to be.”
“No, I am not, but it is a common misconception upon meeting a man such as I,” Owen answered smiling.
“It is because you are beautiful,” she whispered drowsily as the herbs in the tea took effect.
“Thank you,” he replied chuckling at her forwardness. “Your honesty is quite endearing.”
“‘Tis true. You are the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes upon,” her words slurred a bit as she spoke, and his face began to blur.
Owen sniffed the tea and coughed, laughing. “I do believe this is more brandy than tea.”
Josephine had never liked the taste of spirits and had avoided them whenever possible. She preferred water or tea. She had never built up a tolerance for it and was feeling the effects rather more quickly than she would have thought possible. “I do believe you are right,” she whispered. She did not like being alone when she was so miserable and appreciated Owen’s presence. “Tell me a story,” she requested needing a distraction from her misery.
“What would you like to hear?”
“Anything. A story from your youth perhaps?”
“Ah, now that I can do.” His voice sounded pleasantly nostalgic. “When I was but a young lad we raised pigs…” Owen’s voice faded in and out as he told her about the pigs escaping and him jumping on the back of one of the sows at the age of six trying to help his father round them up. Josephine would have laughed if it would not have hurt so much. He went on to tell her about the many humorous incidents that had happened on his family’s farm.
Owen came from a large family with many siblings. From his stories, Josephine could tell that it had been a life of hard work, but that he loved his family and had been greatly loved by them. She dozed on and off as she listened, his words came to life in her mind. She could just see the little boy clinging to the back of a large sow as it ran as fast as its little legs could carry it around the side of the barn and out into the pasture. In her fevered dreams, the scene took on a golden heavenly color where even the dust in the air glowed.
As his stories continued so, too, did Josephine’s dreams wherein Owen became the father and she the mother of all the Greeves children. Something inside her ached for just such a scene. She had worked in service to the Duke and Duchess of Chescrown her entire life. She had never known any other kind of life.
The idea of reaping the rewards of one’s own labor, having children with a man you loved, made her reexamine her choice of occupation. She could have been married with children by now if she had not been waiting for Frederick.Where is Frederick?
“His Lordship is not here.” Owen leaned forward and washed her face once more with the cloth. Josephine did not realize that she had said Frederick’s name aloud. “Your fever is rising. We must find a way to lower your temperature.”
“I do not wish to wait for him any longer. I will wait no longer.”
“I am certain that he will return.”
“I will wait no more,” she whispered then faded back into the darkness.
Chapter 13
When Josephine next awoke it was to the sound of angry voices. She could make out the sounds of Owen and her mother’s voices arguing with another man. “You will not touch her with your murderous blades,” Owen commanded. She turned her head towards the sound and found Owen standing between her and the doctor who had tended her before.
“I must bleed out the bad humors,” the doctor insisted attempting to maneuver his way around Owen’s bodily barricade.
“You do so, and I will make you bleed,” Owen growled balling his hands into fists.
The doctor turned to Josephine’s mother. “Please, madam, make this man see reason. If you wish your daughter to recover, I must bleed her.”
“No. You will do no such thing.” Josephine was surprised at her mother’s defiant tone. “Mr. Greeves and I have both lost sisters to bloodletting, and I will not allow you to take my daughter from me.”
“If you do not allow me to do this, then her death is on your heads. I wash my hands of the matter completely. Do not call for me again until you are ready to see reason.” The doctor stormed out of the room mumbling to himself about servants not knowing their place.
“What are we going to do? We needed his medicinals,” her mother’s voice sounded desperate. Josephine attempted to open her mouth to soothe her, but no sound came out. She viewed the scene before her through a fevered fog, her eyes mere slits. “If her fever worsens she could die.”
“I have a notion as to something that might help. We have used it before in my family,” Owen offered. Her mother nodded her head, and Owen turned around gathering Josephine up into his arms walking out of the bedroom door.
* * *
When Frederick returned to Chescrown, he had planned to go straight to his mother’s room to question her further but was stopped by the most unexpected of sights. As he rode up the drive, he saw a cluster of servants at the pond’s edge staring down at two people floating in the water. Frederick dismounted, leaving his horse at the stables, then walked down the slope to see what all of the commotion was about.
What he saw when he reached the water’s edge stopped him mid-stride. Greeves had Josephine submerged in the pond in nothing but a nightdress, her face the only thing above the water. She floated in a white billowy liquid cloud, her head cradled in Owen’s arms. “What are you doing?” he demanded fighting the urge to plunge into the water and carry her out.
