“So that you wouldn’t feel I was betraying you when I drugged you.”
He stopped rubbing his forehead. “You did what?”
Gillian frowned. “You needn’t act as if you didn’t notice, husband.”
“You drugged me? So I couldn’t attend the duel?” Gillian nodded. “You drugged me? Ah, the draught. You drugged me with my own brandy? And then you let me make love to you?”
Gillian took a step or two away from him. Her Lord of Outrage looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh and kiss her silly, or to yell the hair right off her head, and if he settled on the latter, she wanted a little bit of distance. “It wasn’t what I had planned, Noble, ’tis the truth I hadn’t planned that you would…that you and I were going to…that we would…I just wanted you a little sleepy so that you would not wake in time for the duel, and…well…I must have given you a bit too much because you slept like the dead.”
His indignation of earlier returned. “Do I remember correctly you engaging in a discussion of my personal attributes with Crouch?”
Gillian’s face brightened and she stepped forward again. Here was safe ground. Surely he couldn’t find fault with her wifely devotion in defending him. “Oh, yes, I did wonder if you were awake or not. Crouch said some rather rude things about your lovely behind, and I corrected him. It’s not a good thing to let one’s pirate have too much leniency where that sort of thing is concerned. With comments about one’s behind, that is. Don’t you agree?”
Noble opened his mouth to speak, realized he didn’t know what the hell he was going to say to that, and closed it again. Tiny pinpricks of pain in his temples were dulling into a steady throb. If he concentrated, he could ignore them enough to continue the enlightening discussion of a moment ago.
“Let me see if I have this straight. You drugged me and kidnapped McGregor so that neither one of us could attend the duel, thereby making each think the other had absented himself from the duel?”
Gillian nodded. “I thought it only fair, you see. I didn’t want one of you being accused of cowardice by not being present.” She looked thoughtful. “It worked quite well, Crouch tells me. Lord Carlisle was most obliging and gave Crouch no trouble once he had a zoc. Crouch wouldn’t tell me exactly what a zoc was, but I’m sure it must have been nice if it persuaded Lord Carlisle to go along quietly with him.”
Noble considered telling her it was cant for a blow, then decided against it. She was picking up enough of the vulgar tongue from Crouch; she didn’t need additional words. “I trust he has been released?”
“Oh, yes, quite early this morning. Crouch said he was furious, but settled down once he gave him another zoc. I do hope they are not habit-forming.”
Noble closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair. He didn’t know whether to throttle her for interfering or kiss her and then tell her his own actions. Perhaps he should do both. Just a quick little throttle, and then the kissing. Lots of kissing. He opened his eyes and looked at her standing in front of him, her face worried. Maybe the throttling could wait and he should start in with the kissing first.
“Oh, yes, I agree with that.” Gillian nodded emphatically. Noble stared at her.
“You agree with what?”
“That the throttling can wait and you should start in with the kissing first. I like it when you kiss me. You make my knees turn to water.”
Oh, lord, now he had picked up her Unfortunate Habit! He steeled himself against her hopeful look and frowned. “Wife, I will not have you interfering—”
“Noble?” she interrupted him, looking worried again. “Is this lecture going to take long? Because if it is, I’d like to talk about something else—”
“I am quite sure you would, madam—”
“I’d like to talk about Nick,” she continued as if he had not spoken. “He told me about what happened that night when your Elizabeth died, and I do think he needs to be reassured that you do not blame him for anything. He was most distressed by the thought that he had failed you, or shamed you in some manner.”
Noble stared at her, unable to believe what she was saying. “He told you? In the same manner he told you he liked being in London?”
She frowned. “No, of course not, he told me. That is, he spoke—”
Noble was up and out of his chair before he knew what he was doing. “He told you? He spoke?” He had both hands on Gillian’s shoulders and glowered into her face. “He actually spoke to you and you didn’t bother to mention the fact to me?”
“I had to drug you,” she started to explain, then threw up her hands, muttered something about him not understanding, and, turning, bolted out of the library. Noble stared at the spot where she had been standing, trying to grasp this miracle she had worked; then her words sank in. Nick had spoken about that night?
He passed her on the first flight of stairs, racing up to the second floor, where Nick’s rooms were. If Nick was remembering the facts of that night, he needed more than just simple reassurance — he needed every ounce of love his father could give him. As Noble leaped up the last few stairs he sent a prayer of heartfelt gratitude that God had sent him Gillian. Without her, he wouldn’t have learned how to love again.
He paused in the doorway to Nick’s room, sick with the thought of what he would find. His son, his innocent little boy, exposed to horrors Noble fervently hoped he’d never understand, events so traumatic that it had stripped him of speech. He stood with his hand on the doorknob, willing himself to enter the room and face the boy who fought his devils just as fiercely as Noble fought his own.
“He needs you, Noble,” Gillian said softly behind him.
Noble nodded, still unable to open the door. Gillian leaned into him for a moment, then put her hand on his and waited. Noble took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
Nick leaped up from the window seat and stared at his father. Noble’s silver-eyed gaze held that of his son for a brief minute, then the boy was flying across the room crying, “Papa!”
Gillian smiled even as she wiped discreetly at the tears that overflowed at the sight of Noble sitting with his son on his lap, the boy sobbing into his chest, reliving once again that horrible night. She met her husband’s eyes briefly, then slipped out of the room with Rogerson.
“He’ll be better now, ma’am,” the tutor reassured her.
“They both will,” Gillian responded, dabbing at the last few tears. “They’ve learned how to climb walls, I think.”
“Walls, my lady? I don’t understand.”
Gillian beamed at him as she started down the hall. “It doesn’t matter, Rogerson. They understand.”
“Good lord, man, you look like death warmed over. No man looks like that who’s spent the night worshipping at the feet of his lovely bride; therefore you must have drank yourself silly instead. Noble, my boy, we really must have a talk one of these days.”
“My lovely bride,” Noble said as he settled himself across from Lord Rosse, “drugged me last night so I couldn’t attend my dawn appointment.”
Rosse stared at him. “You didn’t tell her you’d apologized and called it off?”
Noble explained about Gillian’s plan to save both his and Carlisle’s honor. Rosse laughed over the tale until he realized that his friend was looking even more grim than before, if that was possible, which he would have doubted had he not been looking at proof.
“Well, that explains where Carlisle had disappeared to last night when I delivered your note. But don’t tell me you are angry with the charming Gillian for her attempts to save your worthless hide?”
Noble didn’t react to his gentle teasing. “Nick’s talking.”
Rosse looked at the Black Earl’s tight jaw and the eyes that glittered a hard, cold silver. “He remembers that night?”