Page 38 of A Most Unsuitable Lover
Chapter Sixteen
Ian held Juliette close after their lovemaking. They had both stripped off what remained of their clothing and lay skin-to-skin beneath her bed’s quilted coverlet. He savored her nearness and the way she overwhelmed all of his senses in the most delicious of ways. He loved the way she felt, the way she smelled, the little contented sounds he made in the aftermath of her climaxes.
The beat of their hearts mingled where their chests were pressed together. A wandering thumb ran up and down the impossibly soft flesh of her upper arm; her fingers did the same, stroking lazy patterns in the dusting of hair on his chest.
Their peace was disturbed, however, when a frantic knock sounded at the door. Both of them shot upright as if launched from a catapult.
“Lady Juliette!” Ian recognized the frantic voice of the Duchess of Morton. He glanced back to catch sight of Juliette’s wide, shocked eyes. It had to be near two in the morning at that point. Whatever had precipitated this interruption was surely urgent.
Another round of insistent knocking echoed in the otherwise silent room.
“One moment!” Juliette called, gathering the sheet around her nakedness.
“You must hurry,” the duchess hissed. “Viscount Sommerfeld…he’s—”
There were three hard pounds from a closed fist as Lady Morton’s words were cut off. Juliette scrambled to locate her nightshift and dressing gown.
“I know McCullom is in there, and I am coming in. You’d best be decent.” The viscount’s voice was dangerously low and urgent.
Hardly a second passed before Juliette’s door flew open with a bang—she must have forgotten to lock it in her haste to be with him.
Immediately, Ian shifted to shield Juliette with his body, heedless of his nakedness. Truth be told, he would have expected the earl to arrive to exact his revenge for Ian defiling his sister rather than Sommerfeld standing in the doorway, disheveled and wild-eyed, barely dressed in a shirt and breeches. His piercing green eyes swept the scene but flew from Juliette to Ian’s face as soon as they registered her state of undress as she clutched the coverlet to her chin.
To Ian’s surprise, rather than berate them or threaten to tell the earl that they’d been discovered alone in a very compromising situation, Sommerfeld thrust the head of his cane at Ian.
“No less than a dozen servants have been trying to locate you for thirty minutes,” Sommerfeld snarled. “Meredith is bleeding.” His voice broke on the last word and Ian’s stomach plummeted, his limbs went cold. “And hysterical. She refuses to say anything beyond sending me to locate you. Specifically you. What the bloody hell is going on?”
Ian’s mind raced with possibilities. If there was any hope remaining, he needed to act quickly.
“Have someone retrieve my black medical bag from my room,” he ordered as he slipped on his breeches and punched his arms through the sleeves of his linen shirt. “It should be on the chair by the window.”
“Would you mind telling me what is going on?” Sommerfeld growled, fear and anger coloring his tone in equal measures.
“I cannot divulge anything until I examine the patient.”
Juliette gasped behind him when Sommerfeld snatched the front of Ian’s shirt, jerking him forward in a remarkable show of strength.
“Are you saying you won’t tell me what is wrong with my wife? This isMeredith.” Sommerfeld was appealing to Ian’s longstanding affection for the girl Meredith had once been, and the connection he shared with the woman she had become. Ian refused to grow flustered—he would do no one any good if he allowed his nerves to take over. She was a patient like any other. He could not think of how devastated she would be if this pregnancy failed.
“I know.” He tightened his jaw against the concern welling up inside of him and gripped the viscount’s forearm in a tight fist. “You must allow me to do my job.” He didn’t want to harm the man—Ian knew Sommerfeld only acted out of concern for his wife—but he would do whatever was needed to do his duties to the best of his ability.
Sommerfeld must have finally believed him because he removed his hands from Ian’s shirt and limped rapidly from the room, tugging the door shut behind him and bellowing for a servant.
“What is happening, Ian?” came Juliette’s small voice behind him. He turned to face her face, her crystalline eyes round with worry in her pale face, though her ivory cheeks retained a touch of pink from their lovemaking. How much had changed in so short a span of time…
“I must see to Lady Sommerfeld.”
“She will be alright?”
“I must go. Now,” was all the answer Ian could provide.
“Right, of course. Go!” She shooed him from the room, already standing to dress.
Ian ran down the hallway toward the stairs and the sound of rapid footsteps underscored by Sommerfeld’s helpless snarls.
∞∞∞
“I am so sorry,” Lady Morton ducked into her room as soon as Ian left. She was dressed for sleep in her white nightshift and cobalt blue dressing gown. Her long blond hair was plaited down her back and, though it was an absurd observation at such a time, Juliette realized how young she looked. The duchess was usually so outspoken and confident, but, at that moment, she looked impossibly young. It was difficult to remember she was not even thirty years of age when she commanded such a great degree of respect from every room into which she strode. “I heard a commotion in the hallway and discovered the viscount in a great degree of distress. He was roaring at a poor maid who’d said Dr. McCullom was not in his rooms, nor had anyone located him in any other part of the house or grounds,” she explained as she quickly helped Juliette into her dressing gown. “He explained that something was wrong with Meredith…and I had a good idea of what you’d planned when I saw the looks you two shared…and then Ian was impossible to locate…” Juliette’s cheeks burned and she turned her eyes down to the tie at her waist. “Please forgive me. It was the only thing I could think of to do. I tried to convince Sommerfeld to allow me to retrieve Ian, but he would not hear of it. I ran here as quickly as I could, but the man can be surprisingly agile.”
