For the Love of a Soldier (8 page)

Garrett studied his friend. When Brandon’s eyes gleamed from behind his spectacles, Garrett frowned. It was little wonder the man had married his half sister, for the two of them had the uncanny ability to rip his feet out from under him. They would not have allowed him to walk his line of indecision for much longer. If he hadn’t come around on his own, they would have hauled him back to the living, ready or not.

Good thing he was ready.

A
LEX FLOATED IN
a hazy void as impenetrable as the thick fog layering the city. She fought to emerge from it. Disoriented, she blinked as her gaze drifted over her surroundings.

She lay in a spacious feather bed, the covers drawn up to her chin, a floral canopy above her. A dresser stood across the room, a comfortable easy chair beside it, and a wardrobe in the corner next to a commode. Dim light from the bedside lamp played over the bouquets of rose carnations climbing the wallpaper. The room was warm, welcoming, and totally unfamiliar.

Alex’s heart thundered. She fought the choking fear that curled around her as she struggled to piece together the events of the evening. Like grasping at shadows that refused to slide into focus, the memories blurred and stumbled into each other.

She was in the card room at Hammond’s. She had lost the hand against…

Kendall
.

His name doused her with a chilling blast of awareness. She
sat up abruptly, her head pounding. Closing her eyes against the pain, the images flooded her. A murderous plot, the confrontation with Kendall, the carriage accident, and then merciful blackness.

Good Lord, had Kendall been killed after all?

“Shh, Miss. Ye be all right. Lay back and rest. Ye be safe now.”

The words were soft and soothing with a lyrical country cadence. The hand pressing her shoulder was gentle but firm.

A wet cloth pressed against her forehead, the touch calming Alex. Her breathing leveled, the pain receded, and for the moment her fears were held at bay. When she opened her eyes, a maid leaned over her, her white cap perched on her head and her expression one of concern.

“My name’s Molly, and I’ve seen to ye. ’Ave a nasty bump on ye ’ead, but ’twill mend. Could ’ave been worse. Whot a fright ye ’ad.” The maid stepped away to dip the rag into the porcelain basin on the commode and wring it out. Short and plump, her pear-shaped figure swayed as she walked. She returned to the bed carrying a glass. “’Ere’s a dollop of brandy. Can be the devil’s drink, but the angels claim it as well ta ease aches and pains.”

Gingerly, Alex sat up. If she kept her movements slow, her head remained on her shoulders and did not topple off as she half expected. She clutched the glass with both hands and braced herself to voice the question she couldn’t avoid. “And Kendall? He also survived the…the accident?”

The maid waved her hand as if to brush her concerns aside. “No worries there. ’Twas Lord Kendall that sent me to ye. Would take more than a tipped carriage ta harm him. ’E’s survived far worse.” Her voice lowered and she spoke in hushed tones. “The ’orrors of the war and all.”

Alex sagged back into the bed. The weight of her burdens might cause her to stagger, but shouldering the news of a man’s murder would have dropped her to her knees.

She lifted the brandy to her lips and drank. Liquid fire burned a scorching path down her throat. Bolting up, she blinked furiously as her eyes watered, and a spasm of coughs erupted from her. She clutched her head. An ease for aches and pains indeed. One would forget their own mother if they imbibed enough of this potent brand.

Needing to keep her wits clear, she set the glass on the bedside table and froze. Her lips parted at the sight of her bare arm.

Good Lord, was she naked?

She snatched her hand back to press it to her chest and exhaled at the feel of fabric against her breasts. She glanced down. She wore a deep royal blue satin nightgown, whisper thin and baby soft against her skin. Of the finest quality, it was rich, decadent, and designed to please a man. The round curves of her breasts peeked above the plunging neckline. Heat burned her cheeks, and she drew the covers up to her neck.

Kendall
. Womanizer and rake.

How dare he! How dare he give her one of his mistress’s castoffs as if she’d step into the role. Her memory was fast returning and with it, her relief at Kendall’s survival faded. He may have discovered her to be a woman, but he had yet to discern what sort of woman she was. She was most certainly not
this
kind of woman, or rather
his
kind of woman.

Not now. Not ever.

“Miss? Miss, ye be all right? Ye be lookin’ a mite flushed.”

Alex started at the voice. “Ah, yes, it’s the brandy.”

“Ach, I shouldn’t ’ave given it ta ye on an empty stomach. It’s a mite early, but I’ll do some foragin’. See if I can scrounge up a wee morsel. A bit of meat on ye is wot ye need. Ye be skin and bones. Lie back and rest for now.” Molly fluffed the pillows behind Alex and tucked the covers securely about her before she left. Food in Molly’s world was clearly medicinal, as her stout build attested.

Alex closed her eyes, cursing her stomach’s betraying growl at the mention of food. Pity a person had to eat. Poverty would be so much easier if one could forgo that expense.

She shook her head, bemused. Clearly, the accident had addled her wits. She winced as her fingers probed the bump above her hairline. She ran her hands through the tangled strands of her hair, wondering what had happened to her wig and clothes, wondering what Kendall had thought when he discovered her to be a woman.

She hoped he’d choked. At the very least, he should suffer wrenching guilt over his callous treatment of her in the carriage. She squirmed at the memory of his shoving her into the cab, his hand bold and intimate upon her buttocks. Her cheeks
burning, she curled her fingers around her upper arm where Kendall had handled her. His grip had been punishing before he eased it, as if he had sensed her frailty.

Just when Kendall appeared ready to wring her neck, those gray eyes nearly flaying the skin from her with their razor-sharp scrutiny, he had retreated. Of course, with her cowering before him, Alex hadn’t presented him with a fair fight. But still. The man had been filled with a boiling cauldron of anger, yet it had never overflowed onto her.

A seasoned soldier, Kendall might be cold, hard, and unsympathetic, but he possessed control. He would not hurt her. He had proven that tonight.

The man baffled her. Regardless of his distrust of her, he had kept her safe. And that was something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Not since leaving home over a year ago.

Her eyes drifted over the room and settled on a garment draped over the end of the bed. Recognizing her evening jacket, she leaned forward to draw it to her only to realize it was not hers. A familiar masculine scent identified its owner. Kendall. After a brief hesitation, she slid it on, drew it closed, and folded back the long sleeves covering her hands. It felt as if she were enfolded in the man’s arms, held safe.

She froze, the intimacy blindsiding her. The doorknob rattled and Molly returned. Alex silently thanked her interruption, not wishing to be alone with her betraying thoughts, for they tread into forbidden ground.

The maid carried a tray and wore a broad smile. “Cook is a cheap, untrusting old biddy and locks up most of the cabinets.” Molly snorted. “A body would starve on her rations.” She winked at Alex. “But I managed ta dig up some bread and cheese and best of all, fresh custard. Now miss, that should return the pounds ta ye.”

The maid had heated up a cup of cocoa and Alex cradled the steaming mug in her hands as she sipped, forcing herself to wait until Molly departed to attack the food. It was a feast, and her mouth watered just looking at it. She planned to regain her strength, rein in her straying thoughts, and later deal with Kendall. Much, much later she hoped, and not on an empty stomach.

When the custard crossed her lips, she couldn’t resist closing
her eyes to savor it. She settled back into the plush pillows of the feather bed and for the first time that evening, a smile curved her lips.

“Molly must have told you I died.”

Alex jumped, blinking at the sight of Kendall standing in the doorway. He leaned his tall figure against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. The bedside lamp cast flickering shadows over his handsome features, but she didn’t need much light to know those slate gray eyes were locked on her. She swallowed, returned her fork to her plate, and hastily wiped her mouth. “No, of course not.”

Straightening, Kendall closed the door behind him and strolled to her bedside to inspect her platter of food. “Ah, custard. Molly jeopardized life and limb to venture into Cook’s domain, but considering Molly believes food is the cure for all ailments, she’d risk it.” He lifted his eyes to hers and his voice lowered. “She might be right, for here you are awake, not looking like death warmed over, and smiling,
Mr
. Daniels.”

Alex’s hand closed the collar of his jacket, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. Kendall’s linen shirt clung to his broad shoulders. A stray lock of hair curled over his forehead and his lips pressed together as he studied her. In the dim light and towering over her, he looked even more formidable than he had in the carriage.

She shifted, feeling as if his perusal stripped her bare. Alex cursed him and his effect on her pulse rate. She no longer feared Kendall would physically harm her, but he was still too handsome, too familiar, and too close for her comfort.

“How is your head?”

His obvious concern for her welfare caught her off guard. “Fine, as long as I don’t move.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure you don’t.” His eyes dropped to her hands clutching his jacket closed. “Nice robe.”

She caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes and stiffened. “Thanks to you, I have no robe and no clothes.” She lifted her chin. “I’d appreciate it if you returned them immediately, as I’d prefer to change out of your mistress’s castoffs and be on my way.”

She spoke quickly, fearing she’d lose courage if she hesitated. “Tonight’s accident confirms I spoke the truth. We both
could have been killed, so you can’t suspect me of being part of the plot against you.” She lowered her hands and sat up straighter, hoping she presented a braver front than she felt. Like a card game, no tells.

Kendall raised a brow. “Yes, you’re definitely much better.” He slid a chair from the corner of the room and drew it beside the bed. He spun it around, straddled it, and rested his arms along the back. “Are you quite sure you’re wearing a castoff? Why don’t you return my coat and let me be the judge of that?”

Her grip tightened on his jacket collar as she sank back into the pillows. There was something different about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Of course, he was no longer furious with her. He appeared more relaxed, but there was something else. She realized she was staring at him, and when she saw his lips twitch, she flushed.

“No?” He raised a brow. “Fine, keep the coat; just don’t wear it on your next visit to Hammond’s card room.”

He was baiting her.
That
was the difference. The other Kendall would never have teased her. He didn’t possess a sense of humor. Her eyes widened, wary of this new tactic, this different Kendall. What was his game?

In a flash, he became serious. “While it appears you spoke the truth about what you overheard tonight, you still lied about so much more,
Miss
Daniels, if that is in fact your name?”

She bristled. “That wasn’t a lie. It was but a simple deception to earn a few quid. No harm done, other than to the gents’ deep pockets and perhaps their dignity, as no man likes to be bested by a woman. However, that would only be if I had won, but as you are well aware, I did not.”

“Filmore’s an ass and Chandler has no dignity. But what about you?” He nodded toward her. “Don’t you have a care for your own reputation? You risk scandal should your deception be discovered. That damage is harmful and irreparable.”

Once again, those gray eyes narrowed on her. She stifled her retort that she didn’t give a scrap for society’s judgment. Her gaze dropped to her platter of food, and she recalled the deep, gut-wrenching cravings during those times when she’d stretched out a single loaf of bread for days. She no longer lived in the society to which Kendall referred. In her world, a sterling
reputation couldn’t put food in one’s belly, clothes on one’s back, or a roof over one’s head, so what good was it?

She clenched her jaw, unable to hide the bitterness coloring her words. “Some risks are worth taking.”

This time when she met his eyes, she didn’t look away. The silence stretched as he continued to study her in his infuriating manner, as if he could see through her bravado.

It was then she noticed his eyes weren’t a solid slate gray, but ringed by a pale blue circle and unusually long lashes. His features were all sharp angles, his cheekbones chiseled into the hard contours of his striking face. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she noticed his top lip was fuller than his bottom, softer, almost sensual. Suddenly those lips curved into a smile, a bright beaming flash.