Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,70
is lovely, and best of all, she doesn’t know it.
“I’ll send a maid right up.” Jordana shut the door softly behind her.
Both father and daughter have such a hold on my heart.
Marissa turned her eyes back to the perusal of the hideous canopy above her head, wiping another tear from her cheek.
21
A tray arrived a short time later, a bowl of hearty soup and fresh-baked bread with butter. Marissa felt immeasurably better after eating and after the arrival of a maid who brushed out her hair and helped her see to her needs. Her ankle felt much better as did the ache in her head.
“My lady,” the young maid said. “Shall I help you into this?” She held up a plain cotton nightgown from the valise Marissa’s own maid, Felice, had sent over.
Marissa looked down at Haddon’s robe which she was still wearing. She’d rolled up the sleeves and belted it tightly to help hide the fact she’d discarded her chemise to wash earlier. Toying with the sash, Marissa shook her head.
A decision of sorts had been reached between her and Haddon. Unspoken, but there, all the same. Marissa had known from the second she’d awoken to Haddon at her bedside, holding her hand with no concern over Dr. Steward observing them.
The dream she’d had earlier came back to her. Reggie obviously approved.
“I believe I’ll stay in the robe.”
The maid only nodded and began folding up the nightgown to place back in the valise.
“My ankle is paining me,” Marissa hastened to explain to the girl. “I’m much more comfortable as I am.”
“Very good, my lady.” The maid bobbed and left the room.
Once the girl left, Marissa’s head fell back on the pillows. A delicious scent lingered on the silk as if she were enfolded in Haddon’s embrace. For the first time in years, at least in recent memory, Marissa could do nothing but allow someone to take care of her.
It was a novel concept, one she’d never been faced with before.
Her first husband, Kelso, had been such a flagrant rake, he’d never spared a thought for her comfort or well-being. Shortly after their marriage, he’d left Marissa in charge of everything; it was Marissa who had ended up managing Kelso’s holdings as well as the household.
A blessing, as it turned out. It had prepared her for the future.
Once she had given birth to Spencer, she had rarely seen her husband at all.
Reggie, bless him, had truly loved her, but even so, she’d always come in second to his love of rocks and minerals. When he’d disappeared, she had been suddenly left to manage the affairs of both her young sons until they could do so on their own. When her brother and his wife had died, Marissa had taken on the care of Nick and Arabella, her niece and nephew. Those years had passed in a blur of activity.
Cupps-Foster, Marissa barely remembered. Or her reasons for marrying him. He had never shown her the slightest regard once they’d wed, not that she would have welcomed it.
None of her husbands, even Reggie, would have carried her off as if she were something rare and precious, creating a scandal in the process.
Something told Marissa Haddon didn’t care.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come.”
The object of her thoughts came through the door. His hair was ruffled, coat discarded, shirt unbuttoned to show the lightly tanned column of his throat.
Her heart skipped a beat as it did often in Haddon’s presence. She was getting used to the feeling.
A decanter of amber liquid dangled by the neck from one of his hands. The other held a lone crystal glass.
Marissa pulled her eyes from that delicious triangle of exposed skin up to his face.
He kicked the door shut with a booted foot and grinned at her. “Would you like some company?” Cradling the decanter and glass, he turned back to the door and the click of the lock sounded. “I’ve brought whisky.” He held up the decanter.
Abducting her from the street. Now locking her in. Plying her with spirits.
Her chest ached in the most delightful way. I adore him.
“I’m not certain you should be in my rooms so late at night,” she answered primly.
“I have discreet servants.” A dark brow lifted. “Reasonably discreet.”
“I’m not sure it matters given your lack of judgement earlier today. Jordana related what occurred. You caused quite a scene.”
His broad shoulders rippled with indifference. “Perhaps I did behave a bit . . . strongly. My concern for your welfare was probably evident.”