Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

Saint carried her upstairs and eased her down onto the bed. Our bed now, he thought. He undressed her as gently as he could. “Damned women’s corsets,” he muttered, pulling the stays loose. He left her in her shift and methodically examined her.

Enough was enough, he decided a few minutes later. He slapped her face, saying as he did so, “Come on, sweetheart, wake up now. I’m scared silly, and you don’t want your husband a dithering idiot. Wake up, Jules.”

Jules heard a man’s voice, but it made her head hurt, a dull, pounding pain. “No,” she muttered, trying to pull away from the hands on her shoulders. “No.”

“Come on, love.”

The light was dim, and he was shadowy, just as the light had been on the balcony at the Stevensons’ ball, and she thought he was Jameson Wilkes. She cried out and tried to push him away. “No!” she shrieked.

Oh God, Saint thought, not again. From her fear, he was quite certain that it had been Wilkes.

“It’s me, Michael. Michael,” he repeated, not touching her. He waited patiently for her to quiet and regain her wits.

“Michael?” Jules managed to focus on him. “Wilkes,” she gasped. “He tried to—”

“I know. But he didn’t. Thomas saved you, sweetheart. You?

?re home with me now. And safe.”

Of course, he’d said that before. And he’d lied.

“My head,” she whispered, for the sound of her own voice sent waves of pain through her entire body.

“When you fell, you hit your head. You’ve probably got a concussion, but you’ll be all right. How does your jaw feel?”

“I don’t know, all I can feel is my head.” She shivered in reaction and Saint quickly pulled a blanket to her chin.

“I imagine it hurts quite a bit,” he said very softly. “I can’t give you any laudanum, at least not yet.” he held up three fingers. “How many, Jules?”

“Three.”

“And now?”

“Six.”

“Good.”

“The ball,” she wailed softly. “I wanted to waltz with you again.”

“We will again, soon, I promise. God, you did scare me silly.” He took her limp hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He kissed her fingers.

“He’s crazy,” Jules said, watching her husband holding and kissing her hand through a haze of pain.

“You’re certain it was Wilkes?”

“Oh yes. He mocked me and taunted me. Just like the other—” She broke off, biting her lip, appalled.

Saint was silent for many moments, studying her pale face. “What other time?” he asked.

She wanted to lie, but the tone of his voice wouldn’t brook a lie. “A while ago, that first day I was with Chauncey.”

“Would you mind telling me why you didn’t inform me of this?”

He sounded so controlled, so very calm, that she said honestly, “I was afraid that he would hurt you.”

He went rigid.

Jules didn’t notice. She was trying desperately to control the pain. “I knew he couldn’t hurt me—there were so many men about on the street. But I thought if I told you, you would go after him. You’re so honorable, but he’s a snake. I couldn’t bear it if he hurt you.”