The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne by Natasha Blackthorne Read Free Book Online Page A

so hard to heal her troubled mind and body. But some days, she couldn’t quiet her doubts. On those days, a certain lucidity—was it lucidity?—gave her a rare clarity. It seemed to her that if he cared for her, he wouldn’t seek to hurt her. He wouldn’t insist on treatments that were a torment to her.
    If only she didn’t need his horrid treatments! If only she could escape his care!
    But she was too frightened of sinking back into that terrible blackness again.
    Or of becoming completely debauched. Wildly out of control of herself.
    “If I am to cure you,” Dr. Meeker’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Then you must trust me. You must trust me completely.”
    “Well, I am not any better, am I?” She spat the words at him defiantly.
    “Whose fault is that?”
    “Indeed, whose fault is it?”
    “You must trust me, implicitly. Completely. If you will not open yourself to me, if you will not give me that ultimate—”
    “I am broken,” she whispered, letting all her anguish into the statement.
    “You are determined to withhold yourself from me. Determined to defy me at every—”
    She turned to him and jerked her hands from his grasp.
    He started and placed a gloved hand to his lapel. “Such a wild, angry expression. Do I deserve that? I am the one who is devoted to helping you.”
    “I. Am. Broken!” The words exploded from her.
    “Abuse now, Catriona?”
    She panted, unable to still the racing of her heart.
    He returned her glare calmly. “Take care, my dear. You don’t want to alienate me.”
    “I am broken—why won’t you accept that? I shall never be healed, I shall never be whole again.”
    “I am the only man who shall ever care for you in a purehearted way. I daresay even your own father could not possibly care for you with my depth of feeling.”
    The intense probing of his black stare became too much and she turned away again.
    “No, do not turn from me.”
    “Are you going to administer—” She swallowed hard. “—treatment today?”
    He shook his head. “No, I think a little laudanum will suffice. You look tired. You need a good night’s sleep. I shall return in the morning and administer treatment.”
    “Oh.”
    “See, I am not without a heart. I shan’t drive you harder than you can bear.” He took her hand again. “You must try to stay open to me. It would hurt me too much, for I know, even more than you can, how badly you need my guidance. I sacrifice so much for you, but I do it gladly. I know you cannot hope to recover, indeed you cannot hope to survive without me.”
    She couldn’t be sure of that. Maybe he was right, but dear Lord, she longed to be free of him and his treatments. She wanted to be her old self. He said she could never be whole again without his help.
    She felt guilty for doubting him. Yes, there had been that time when she was close to the final despair, and he had been the only person she could turn to. He had brought her back from the very edge.
    Did that give him ownership over her life forever?
    Torment churned within her.
    Dr. Meeker cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to his placid, distinguished features. “Yes, indeed, you are tired.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I shall go and instruct Mrs. Tibbs to administer more medication straightaway.”
    Sunny nodded.
    What good would it do to fight this dictate? If she refused the medication, they would force it on her. She watched him gather his things back into his black bag and exit her chamber.
    Relief made her so weak that she sagged against the coverlet.
    No treatments today.
     
    * * * *
     
    Stripped down to his shirt and trousers, James sat on his bed in his old chamber. There had been no point to making Aunt Frances vacate the baron and baroness’ chambers. He certainly didn’t plan on spending much time here, anytime soon. She could occupy the suite until he brought home a bride. He sighed. That would have to be soon. Sometime within the next two years.
    His head throbbed,