In Love With a Wicked Man by Liz Carlyle Read Free Book Online

myself,” he said a little fractiously.
    “No doubt,” she said evenly, “but you may not move about in doing so. Now, stop standing on such ceremony. I’m going to drag this over your head, Edward, and you will—”
    “How do you know my name is Edward?” he interposed.
    “It was engraved on your watch.”
    “What watch?”
    “A magnificent gold pocket watch.” On a shaft of sympathy, Kate went to the chest and retrieved it.
    He took it, and snapped the cover open. “From Aunt Isabel,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting hers. “ Aunt Isabel ,” he said again, and if repeating the words might summon forth a recollection. “Good God. Who is she?”
    Kate laughed. “A rich and doting aunt, from the look of it,” she said, snapping out the nightshirt. “That watch is eighteen-karat gold, from London’s best maker.”
    He scowled a little, his brow furrowing. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, laying the watch aside.
    “I know it isn’t,” said Kate more tenderly. “You must feel so frightfully frustrated—and so frightfully cold —or will do, at any rate. So I’m going to pull this over your head, and over your shoulders. Then, when I turn my back, you will wiggle it down—without moving, if you please.”
    “And how the devil am I to do that?”
    She popped it over his head, careful of the fresh stitches, then regarded him with a little smile. “I knew it would not take long before you asserted yourself,” she said evenly. “Now, there. Wiggle into it— gently !”
    She turned and listened to his efforts, noting with some concern a little grunt of pain.
    “Shall I call a footman to help?” she ventured.
    “No,” he barked. “I mean—thank you, no. And what is that supposed to mean, anyway? Assert myself? Go on, turn round if you wish.”
    “I do wish,” she said, turning to survey his work. “And it’s just that I know the type of man you are.”
    “Ah!” He looked askance at her again. “And what type is that, exactly?”
    “The take charge type,” she returned. “The I’ll get out of bed when I bloody well please type.”
    “I must say, my lady, you’re mighty free with your language.” But he was grinning a little. “And you seem remarkably well-informed, considering I don’t even know my own name.”
    “Yes, you do. It is Edward.”
    “Did it ever occur to you that I might have stolen that watch?” he suggested. “Or bought it from some pawnbroker?”
    Again, she laughed, and this time she sat down by the bed to regard him more seriously. “No, you’re a gentleman—from London, I’m fairly certain—who has ventured into the West Country for a reason,” she said, and this time she took his hand and gave it a hard squeeze. “We must merely wait for that reason to surface. While waiting, however, the doctor advises you not strain your mind. Just rest, Edward. You are welcome here.”
    His eyes glinted with humor. “A crackbrained watch thief, welcomed with open arms by a woman who ought to be married but isn’t,” he said. “This is a curious predicament in which we find ourselves, Lady d’Allenay.”
    She let his hand go, and propped her elbow on one of the night tables, attempting to strike a casual pose. “Kate,” she said quietly. “Until we know your full name, you must call me Kate, for I can call you nothing but Edward.”
    “Kate,” he said, his expression suddenly serious. “For Katherine?”
    “Yes,” she said. “Now, I’m going to ring for some beef tea. Tell me, does your head hurt?”
    He smiled vaguely. “A bit,” he said. “How did you know?”
    “I see it in your eyes,” she said. “Dr. Fitch left laudanum. Will you take a little?”
    “God, no! The wretched stuff makes me ill,” he said. “Wait—how do I know that?”
    His gaze met hers again, and this time she saw the alarm rise.
    “You knew you weren’t married,” she said.
    His gaze turned inward, and she could see him fighting down the fear. “I do know