Page 80 of Only Scandal Will Do

“Katarina! My God, I died a thousand times watching you and Tommy!” He squeezed her to him as though he would hide her inside himself. “I could do nothing lest I distract you and give him the advantage. My love, you were insane to engage him. He almost killed you.”

Lethargy stole through her again, and she closed her eyes. Hard planks lay beneath her back, so he must have lowered her to the floor. Then, a curious ripping sound. Despite fatigue so deep she longed to sleep forever, the noise roused her. She opened her eyes. Duncan, bare chested, tore his good linen shirt into strips. Why was he ruining his shirt? Her sluggish brain tried in vain to reason it out, until he lifted her arm and fire shot down it in a searing sweep. A shrill scream escaped her lips.

The next thing she knew, he had hoisted her into his arms again and rushed out of the

room. Her arm felt caught in a vise, and she glanced down. A red-stained bandage covered the wound. Her husband’s handiwork, she supposed. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Through a jumbled impression of constables milling throughout the corridor, she saw Nigel and Will down on their knees, then closed her eyes against the whirling in her head.

When they emerged into the warm night air, she roused and gazed into her husband’s dear face long enough to ask, “Now will you show me that damned disarm?”

Then her head fell back as darkness descended.

CHAPTER 35

Large volumes of books scattered around her, Katarina sat up in bed, fuming. In the three weeks since her ordeal, not once had she left her bed, not even to be carried down to the sitting room for a change of scenery. Even more disconcerting, she had been a captive audience for Duncan’s admonitions regarding her behavior at the House of Pleasure. His choice words regarding her fencing, her dishabille during the match, and her disregard for her own safety, had led him to vow not to let her out of his sight until she had recovered completely.

Of course, when he’d rushed up to the third floor and found his best friend thrusting a sword into her arm, he’d been badly frightened. He’d watched the rest of the match play out, terrified to interfere, although ready to assist her if the opportunity arose. His need to protect her was behind his ultimatums, but she did not relish being confined to the house for several more weeks.

To add insult to injury, this morning Dr. Pritchett, pronounced her arm healing well, but had insisted on another week of bed rest. His concern was understandable, but she might just scream at more enforced idleness. Perhaps, she could get the sentence extended to include the whole house so she could at least be carried from room to room.

A light rap on the door, and Duncan appeared with a letter in his hand. He had shown Dr. Pritchett out, probably plotting with the man to increase the prescription for bed rest. But she smiled at her husband. The light in his eyes boded good news.

“What is it, my love?” She pushed several volumes away and patted the bed beside her.

“Who is the letter from?”

Duncan leaned down, grazed a kiss over her lips then sat back on the bed. “It is from

Reginald Matthews, sweet.” His eyes fairly glowed with a secret knowledge. “He has news.”

A gasp escaped her. She struggled to sit up further in bed. “Of Juliet! Oh, Duncan, how wonderful! Where is she?”

“A letter from a contact in Carlisle, near the Scottish border, reports that a man and woman took up residence at my property there in early July. The agent went to the estate, asking for Lady Juliet, but was turned away. The servants are being very closemouthed about whoever is staying there. It has to be Juliet, for they would have admitted no one else. So I am leaving first thing in the morning, love. I must get to the bottom of this matter.” He laid the letter on the bedside table and gathered her to him, mindful of her bandaged arm. “I will miss you sorely, sweetheart, but I should be back inside of three weeks.”

Head cocked, she gave him a withering look. “Do you really think I am going to let you go without me, Duncan? I can ride in a carriage as well as I can lie in this bed.”

“No, you cannot, Katarina. The doctor said another week of bed rest, meaning it is to be spent in a bed. You will not jeopardize your life again. God knows, you came close enough to losing it.”

The reproach seared her, and she cast her gaze down to the coverlet. Loss of blood from her wound and the exhaustion of the duel had almost killed her. According to Dr. Pritchett.

though, she would mend. “Then, wait until I can go with you, Duncan. You did say you were not going to let me out of your sight. And you won’t be able to see me if you are off to the north and I am here,” she wheedled, and turned on all the charm she could muster.

He smiled, so it must be working.

“And I would miss you too dreadfully if you were gone for three weeks. Please stay with

me?”

He played idly with her hand for a moment. “Five months ago, I believe, those sentiments would have been quite different, would they not, my dear?”

Kat smiled. “Yes, they certainly would have. And aren’t you glad they have changed? Stay with me, love.” She ran a finger over his lips. “Dr. Pritchett said it was safe for you to come back to my bed. You would make bed rest so much more appealing.”

“You asked the doctor that?” His tone was shocked, but his eyes twinkled.

“And you did not?” She drew him down for a scorching kiss designed to make him forget travel and any other plans for the day.

Duncan surrendered readily, taking her into his arms. “I suppose we could take this time to work on putting an heir in the nursery.”

Katarina smiled into his eyes, but shook her head. “No, we don’t need to do that.”