Devil May Care Part 9/?
Author: Nefret24
Disclaimers and notes see parts 1 - 8.
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"It was amazing how innocent that man could look when he wanted to. His eyes were very blue. The shadows under them were like bruises. Then he grinned and his fine-boned face was transformed- from Saint Sebastian to Mercutio." ~ Vicky Bliss, Street of the Five Moons, Elizabeth Peters
"So now you're sleeping peaceful/ I lie awake and pray/ That you'll be strong tomorrow and we'll/ See another day/ And we will praise it/ I love the light that brings a smile/ Across your face./ Hold on/ Hold on to yourself/ This is gonna hurt like hell." ~ "Hold On," Sarah McLachlan
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Marguerite's Apartment, the East End
"I've been waiting for you."
Marguerite slowly drew in a breath to control herself and then spoke, in the calmest of tones, "Why, Lord John Roxton. I am so sorry that I was not home to let you in. It seems a little matter, since you have made yourself comfortable." She did not move save for the arching of an eyebrow as she watched him stand to his full height and enter into the light coming from the window.
"Not as elegant as the Ritz but homey enough. You certainly do get around, don't you? Out at all hours of the night again?" he asked, amusement in his voice as he continued to slowly approach where she was standing.
"And you seem to take a great deal of interest in affairs that don't concern you," she said, biting off her words forcefully.
"I am very much part of whatever game you're playing- Tom made that very clear."
"Did he now? And what great insight did the brat give you?"
"He's actually very bright, given his age and condition in life. But you wouldn't know that, would you? That would require caring about something and someone other than yourself and your own interests."
"You don't know anything about me or my interests!" she countered indignantly.
"I know enough to make me wary- and that's enough. I know you know more than you're letting on-"
"More than you do, anyhow. Tsk," she clucked with her tongue, giving her head a slight shake. She immediately regretted the gesture; it reminded her of the blow to the head she had received earlier and the room became slightly out of focus for a few seconds. Utterly grateful for the darkness of the room, she narrowed her eyes and recovered quickly, taking a deep breath before she continued.
"Now. If you're quite finished, I'm afraid I gave the footman the night off so you'll just have to escort yourself out." She made a small gesture towards the door, cautious not to jar herself too much. Her body ached more and more and the struggle to maintain a veneer of calm was taking its toll. Let him think what he will, she thought, but I'll be damned if I faint in front of him. Just leave like a good little boy
Her eyes remained fixed as he slowly made his way towards her and the door, his hat in his hands. He stopped a few feet away and picked up the book she deposited on the dresser.
"Alice in Wonderland?" he looked at her questioningly. "What is it, a first edition you stole?"
"Some light reading, that's all," she said, grabbing the book from him a bit too forcefully and clutching it to her chest. She pressed her lips together hard but still a gasp of pain came forth.
Roxton squinted in the bad light of the room. He came closer to where she stood and pushed the lapel of her half open jacket aside with a fingertip. "My God you're hurt."
"I'm fine," she replied through gritted teeth.
He held up his finger so that she could see it was wet with blood from her wound- it was beginning to soak through her jacket.
She swallowed slowly, looking away. Never did get used to the sight of her own blood. "Just a scratch."
He grimaced and tried to gently pull away her arm holding the book against her chest.
"No," she said hotly, clutching at the hardbound cover as if it were a lifeline.
"Look- I'm not going to take it, just - here, come on, now, you're bleeding pretty bad here! I just want to see"
Lowering the book, she undid the last button on her jacket with the other hand and it swung loose, revealing her mud and blood stained dress.
"Damn," he whispered, shock writ on his face, as he raised his eyes to hers- not as focused as they had been.
"Stay with me now. Focus," he said louder, taking her head in both his hands. "You need a doctor."
"No," she said forcefully.
Stubborn fool woman, he thought exasperatedly and began to look around the room. "Then you'll have to deal with me." She grimaced but nodded affirmatively. "Do you have any clean cloths or-"
"Closet. Supplies. Basin behind you," she said, her words lacking their former precision and her stance losing its solidity.
"Let's get you to the bed," Roxton said, letting her half lean on him. She sat down, the book still in one hand and began to slowly undo the buttons on her dress.
Roxton turned away quickly, slightly unplussed at her lack of demurity and then quickly recovered. Desperate times, desperate measures, he supposed. He went to the small closet on the other side of the room and found some small but reasonably clean cloths, some medical tape, iodine, gauze, rubbing alcohol as well as the drinkable variety. He looked at the horde in amazement before grabbing what he was told. Like she was preparing for a small war.
He then went to the bureau. Taking the pitcher from the center of the basin, he outpoured half its contents into the bowl and took it over to the bed with the other supplies. Marguerite was still sitting on the edge of the bed quietly, her dress pooled about her waist, her chest clad with a once white camisole that steadily now was being turned red.
With her good hand, she crossed behind her head and grabbed her loose hair, pulling it to her right side, completely baring her left shoulder.
He sucked in his breath and with two not-so-steady fingers, lowered the camisole strap now soaked red, down her arm, exposing the gash. His throat became tight and his stomach lurched at the sight. He could tell a knife wound when he saw one- and this one was particularly nasty. Deep and neat, a sharp blade handled by someone with considerable strength. What had happened to her? He had planned so many cunning strategies of how to beat her in her own war of words, so that this time he'd leave with more than a bruised ego. And now he was tending to her wound, gently dabbing the blood away, watching the water in the basin become more and more red.
She wasn't looking at him. Her head was turned away and she had made not a sound- not even when he finished and she had handed him the iodine to put on. He had had enough injuries himself to know it stings like hell. At least when he or his fellow expedition members to Africa had gotten wounded they always made a fuss, complaining through each other's ministrations as a reassurance. And her quiet as a mouse and as still and pale as a marble statue, with a gash that lesser men would have fainted dead away at.
"There. All done," he said, his voice slightly scratchy, as he placed the last piece of tape on her shoulder to hold the dressing in place.
She released her hold on her hair with her right hand and dark curls cascaded down her back. Her left hand had remained immobile, resting on her chest and holding up the camisole over the swell of her breasts. She replaced her left with her right and slowly she slid her arm away from her body, revealing the second wound on her side.
"I guess, not quite," Roxton replied as he licked his lips again. He slowly pulled at the dainty silk fabric, so thin and light in his hands, and raised it upwards until he could see the gash on her side. Not nearly as bad, but bad enough.
He looked up and was surprised to see her looking back at him, those peculiar eyes so intense in the moonlight. He lifted his head a little and there was precious little space between them, her warm, exposed body so close Her lips were less than an inch away from his and for the longest moment he fought every instinct in his body not to kiss her soundly. Instead, with great effort, he cleared his throat and murmured, "I need more gauze." He rose and went back to the closet.
As his back was turned, she spoke and almost sounded like her old self. "Not squeamish, now, are you, Lord Roxton?"
"No. Never," he said, rising and returning to sit by her side. "Just wondering how you managed to injure yourself so thoroughly. Jilted lover, perhaps?" he said, managing a small smile.
"Barroom brawl. Wrong place at the right time," she replied without a bat of an eyelash.
"Ah," he said obliquely, not believing a word of it. As he worked on her side, he slowly began to take in the dress. Patches of ominous dark stains were in more than two places and he had already noticed the beginnings of a bruise on her temple. Something serious had happened but what? He would be the first to admit that he wouldn't trust the woman as far as he could throw her but this kind of physical violence against the fairer sex didn't seem quite cricket.
When he had finished, he rinsed out the last cloth and he could have sworn he heard a small sigh escape her lips. He gathered up all the odds and ends left on the bedspread and placed them on the bureau. When he turned back, he saw her attempting to swing her legs onto the bed without upsetting her side, and by her candid facial expression, he could see she was not having much luck.
"Easy, now," he said in a quiet voice, helping her back onto the bed. She lay her head back on the pillow and he sat down by her feet and began to absently play with the hem of her dress. "Is there anywhere else-"
"Not mine," she replied thickly, her eyelids now only half-open. She was getting tired fast and seemed to have lost all her former self-possession. His eyes softened as he beheld her, looking so uncharacteristically fragile, her pale face surrounded by her loose hair.
"Tom wouldn't have told me if I hadn't forced him to."
"Doesn't matter," she said, her right hand bringing the book closer to her side.
"I was wrong. About you." In response to her raised eyebrow he continued, "You don't have my mother's jewels. I looked before you got here."
"Your vote of confidence is overwhelming," she said quietly back, a slight smile on her lips and her eyes closed.
He stood up, as if to leave and her eyes opened, looking startlingly blue. "Wait. Please stay. Until I'm asleep?" Her voice sounded so different, so childlike and sweet as she made her request. His stomach flip-flopped again to his surprise.
"A gentleman could never refuse a lady's request," he replied, sitting back down, this time by her side and taking her hand. He kissed it gallantly, and restored it to her side with a reassuring smile.
She managed a half-smile back and closed her eyes again, every once in a while feeling the most peculiar sensation- almost as if there had been a draft in the room, a ruffling of her hair so gentle that she was certain she was dreaming.
Once he was sure she was asleep, he rose to his feet ever so slowly, not wanting to disturb her. Stretching his tired limbs, he saw the first lights of morning through the dirty window of the room. Running a hand light over her hair, he bent down and kissed her forehead gently. Dusting off his hat, he donned it and left, to go home and get some sleep himself.
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TBC
A/N: Shorter, I know but haste seemed to be definitely an issue with this particular part. ;) Don't worry- there's plenty more to come scores to settle, jewels to find, an expedition to launch
Please review- it makes me write faster! ;)