Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

He pressed his palm to her forehead, her cheeks. She didn’t have the fever. He said again, this time right in her ear, “Wake up. I don’t like this. I came after you because you stole Durban and here you have the absolute nerve to act ill. You have even more gall to be a female. Damn you, wake up.”

She opened her eyes. It hurt, but she did it. The man’s voice sounded very irritated. At first she’d believed it to be her stepfather’s voice, but then she knew it wasn’t. It was his voice, the baron’s voice. Her vision cleared and she saw him not an inch from her nose. He looked worried. Why?

Then her stomach clenched and she lurched up. She felt his hands on her arms, pulling her back down. “I’m going to be sick,” she said and felt him pull her up fast and hold her steady. She drew deep breaths, shuddered, breathed through her mouth. No, she wouldn’t vomit; she refused to. She swallowed, took several more shallow breaths, and said, “The great-aunts don’t know about this. Please don’t tell them.”

“Why the hell not? They’ve got a thief disguised as a valet, and you’re also a girl. Is this why they call you Mad Jack? You pull ridiculous stunts like this? Dress like a boy and parade about? Damnation, what is going on here? Who are you, damn you?”

“Stop cursing.” She felt pain pounding in her jaw and head; her ribs ached, drew, and pulled, and she wanted simply to close her eyes and fall back into the straw. She was cold, yes, that was the worst of it—not her ribs, not her cramping belly. She was cold and she didn’t know what to do about it.

She looked up at him and said, “I’m cold. Please, do you have a blanket or something?”

“I’m as wet and cold as you are. Just where do you think I’d find a blanket? Do you even have any idea where you are?”

“In an old barn. Durban brought me here. We can’t be too far from Folkstone.”

“Here, let me cover you with straw again.” He paused a moment as the shaft of bright sun hit him in the face. “No more rain. All right. I have no idea where we are, but we’re nowhere close to Folkstone. We’re somewhere west of London.”

“No, no, we’re south of London.”

“If you were a man, you’d know in your bones what direction you were going. It’s an automatic thing, this knowing where you are, bred deep in a man’s bones. But you’re not a boy, you’re a damned girl and you were riding poor Durban as hard as you could, due west. On the Reading road, toward Bath.”

She groaned and closed her eyes. “Oh, dear.” She opened her eyes and blinked. “Do you really know the direction automatically because you’re a man?”

“Naturally. Without men, women wouldn’t find their way home. It’s a sorry thing, but there it is. Now, take off as many clothes as you can and I’ll hang them out in the sun to dry. There’s nothing else we can do, so get on with it. Oh, your ribs. Do you need help?”

“No, go away.”

“Fine,” he said, rising. “I’ll strip myself.”

He heard her breath whoosh out from behind him. He spun on his heel and saw her weaving where she stood, but he wasn’t in t

ime to catch her before she fell back down onto the straw. He let loose with a string of curses that had Brewster neighing loudly at him, and then she whispered, “You’re cursing again.”

“I’m cursing because it’s simply the only thing to do. It’s what a man does when he doesn’t understand what the devil is happening or why it even dared to happen to him since he is completely innocent, and thus his spleen demands venting. You were stealing my horse, I chased you down, and now you have the gall to be a girl and a mad valet to my great-aunts. On top of everything, you’re sick, damn you.” He smacked his hand to his forehead. “It’s a new day and I had a bloody awful evening and night.”

“What happened last evening?” She didn’t move, just lay there on her side, trying to control the god-awful pain in her one rib that he’d kicked into her back and the sick throbbing in her head. She felt less cold now, which didn’t make a lot of sense but was true nonetheless. And here she was talking. Who cared about his blasted evening? “Did your mistress tell you she’d found a better protector?”

“Ah, so there’s still a bit of hornet left in you, is there? What would you know about mistresses and the men who keep them?”

“Every man has mistresses if he has the money. Everyone knows that. It’s the way things are.” Slowly, she tried to pull herself upright. She managed it, breathing hard, still feeling a bit sick to her stomach, and hating the dampness of her clothes sticking to her. “But it isn’t right. It really isn’t. Men might automatically know directions, but if they aren’t faithful to their promises, then they shouldn’t be admired.”

“Maybe it’s only other faithless men who admire them. Now, are you going to fall down again? You’re a female, so I suppose I should expect it.” He paused a moment and frowned. “You got the best of me twice last night. I don’t understand that.”

“Men have direction and women have brains—well, and a bit of luck too. Now, I’m going to get up and I’m going to get these wretched clothes off. Yes, I’m going to do it right now. Turn around. Thank you.”

“When you get your clothes off, I’ll look at your ribs.”

“No you won’t, my lord. If you try it I’ll smash you to the ground again.”

Gray laughed, he couldn’t help it. “We’re somewhere in the wilds of nowhere—well west of London—but at least it’s not raining, so I won’t complain. Look, Jack, or whatever your name is, the thing is—” He’d turned as he spoke and there she was, standing in a chemise that came to her knees, and one riding boot on the other lying in the straw beside her. Dark blond hair spilled over her shoulders and breasts. She looked utterly, amazingly female. He hadn’t a clue as to what he had been about to say. He quickly gave her his back again. “Toss your clothes over near me and then get under as much straw as you can.”

He stripped down to his breeches, had his hand on their buttons, then sighed and shook his head. No, Jack wasn’t a Jack. He couldn’t strip all the way. He picked up her clothes and his shirt, waistcoat, and greatcoat and left her.

She lay there, shivering like a loon, wondering what would happen now and knowing it wouldn’t be good. She closed her eyes, felt nausea stir in her belly, and began breathing lightly and quickly.

He said from above her, “Now, think about your ribs. Did I get one or two?”

“One.”