Strangers At Dawn Part 27

"End of round three," cried the timekeeper, and the crowd cheered, and cheered and cheered.

"He's won!" screamed Simon. "Max has won!"

Both brothers embraced violently, then, with a roar, they jumped up on the platform and ran to Max.

Max stood there in a daze. He didn't know what was going on. He'd only gone three rounds, and he knew this was the end for him. He couldn't hold up his head, never mind his fists.

Mighty Jack was pumping his hand and telling him what a fine fellow he was. Simon and Martin were bellowing in his ear that he was the only man in Stoneleigh who had managed to go the three rounds with Mighty Jack. He'd won a sovereign, it seemed. Someone was holding his arm up, and the spectators were cheering madly. None of it made sense to Max.

"This calls for a celebration," cried Simon.

He stripped off his coat and threw it over Max's shoulders.

Max, the victor, had to be carried from the ring by his seconds. Mighty Jack strolled after them.

The fight had lasted all of five minutes.

Sara was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. Her arms were folded across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and her brows were down. Everyone was in bed, and she was in her nightclothes. Max had an arm looped around each of her brothers' necks, and he was definitely the worse for wear. His cheek was swollen and there was a cut on his lip. They were carrying on like mischievous schoolboys.

And she could smell the drink on them.

Their snickering stopped when they caught sight of her. She didn't say a word, not one word, but marched to her bedroom and held it open for them. They had to edge their way sideways to get Max through the door.

"I won a sovereign, Sara," he said. "Don't ask me why. It's for you. Simon, give her the sovereign."

Simon gave Sara the sovereign, which she deposited on the table without a thank-you, and without even looking at it.

"I suppose," said Max, "it's like bringing coals to Newcastle. I mean, what can a rich wife do with a sovereign?"

Simon snickered.

Martin said, "Now, Sara, there's no need to look like that. We were celebrating. In the King's Head. All of Stoneleigh was there. And we hardly had anything to drink. Tell her, Max."

"We hardly had anything to drink," said Max.

Martin grinned from ear to ear. "Max is a hero in Stoneleigh, Sara. Max, tell her."

"I'm a hero," said Max. "Ouch! Careful, Martin. That hurt!"

Sara pointed to the bed, and her brothers reverently eased Max down on it, but he wouldn't lie down.

"Is she often like this?" Max asked. "You know, silent and pouting?"

Simon laughed. "No. She usually lectures. But we're only her brothers. I suppose she has to watch her step with you."

"I am not pouting," said Sara, stung into replying. "What I am is ... what I am is ... "

"Yes?" said Max, squinting up at her.

Lips pressed together, she reached for him to help him disrobe, but her touch was not gentle, and Max groaned.

Simon pulled her away. "Careful, Sara. Max has taken a beating that would kill most men." He couldn't keep is excitement down as the memory came back to him. "You should have seen him! Against Mighty Jack Cleaver, no less! What a pounding he took. Martin and I were scared to death because Max wouldn't stay down. Don't you understand, Sara? Max won the contest! He was the only man in Stoneleigh who managed to go three rounds with the champion."

Sara looked as though she would burst into tears. "Oh, Max," she said. "What have these wicked boys done to you? Is this Simon's doing?" She went down on her knees beside Max and looked into his battered face. "I know you thought you were going to box with Simon."

At these words, Simon went scarlet.

Max said, "It wasn't Simon's fault. Can we talk about this later? I need help getting undressed. I want to soak in a warm bath, then I want a large gla.s.s of brandy to take my mind off my aches and pains." He looked at Sara. "Sara, help me."

"Oh, Max." She sniffed and reached for one booted foot, but when she saw his knuckles, she gasped. They were sc.r.a.ped raw. "Max, Max," she said softly. Eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g, she brought his hands to her cheeks and looked up at him.

He gave her the smile that always made her melt with yearning.

Simon nudged Martin with his elbow. "Let's get out of here," he whispered.

Martin nodded. "Too much sugar for my taste."

They tiptoed to the door. Martin slipped away, but Simon turned back. "Max-" He paused and cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you would ... that is ... when you're on your feet again, of course, well, I'd consider it a great favor if you would take me out on Arrogance."

"I'd like nothing better," said Max quietly.

When the door closed, Sara said, "What was that all about?"

"I think your brother just apologized to me."

Sara started on his boots. "I didn't hear him say 'I'm sorry'."

"Oh, well, men have a different way of apologizing from females." He saw that she'd removed one boot. "You did that as though you were born in a stable."

"I have two younger brothers," she said, as though that explained everything.

It did to Max. "Whom you love very much."

"Well, of course. I adore them. But that doesn't mean I'm blind to their faults."

Max's laugh turned into a moan, and Sara was instantly contrite. "Was I too rough?"

"No, no. I'll be all right, but a gla.s.s of brandy would help."

She removed his other boot and left him to go to his room for the brandy. When she returned, he was propped up in bed with his back against the pillows. His face was several shades whiter than when she'd left.

"I'm going to send for the doctor," she said quickly.

"No." He took the gla.s.s from her and sipped carefully, then said, "He won't thank you for calling him out when there's nothing wrong with me, nothing that a good night's sleep won't cure. Trust me, Sara. I've been in enough fights to know that I'm not hurt in any way that counts." He gave her a huge grin. "Last time, I only went two rounds with Mighty Jack. I must be getting better."

His little speech made her both cross and teary. She didn't like to see him like this, all battered and cut up. But it was his own fault. No one could force him to fight against his will. And he was practically telling her that he would do it again.

Not if she had anything to do with it. But now was not the time to argue the point with him, not when he looked so weak and helpless. All she said was, "I'll ring for Arthur to draw you a bath."

"Good idea."

When she came back to the bed, he held out his gla.s.s. He'd hardly touched the brandy. She took it from him and set it on the table.

He closed his eyes. "Drew Primrose was at the King's Head," he said. "He told me that you hadn't given him the marriage contract you made me sign. Does this mean you're having second thoughts?"

She took a moment to think about it. "Perhaps," she hedged.

"I'm glad, because that contract would only be the ruin of your family. I've been giving this a great deal of thought, and I have my own ideas about what's best for them. Would you like to hear what I think?"

She sat on the edge of the bed. "You've only known them for a few weeks, Max."

"And that means I can see them more clearly than you."

She doubted it, but she was interested in what he had to say. "All right. Go on."

He needed no further encouragement. "Let's start with your brothers," he said. "They're just like all young men their age. They'll give us many sleepless nights before they settle down. But let's wait until they know what they want to do with their lives before we decide how to help them." He yawned. "And while we're at it, let's enroll Martin in a different college at Oxford. Right now, he's too much in Simon's shadow. They'll still see each other, but Martin will make his own circle of friends. He needs to learn to stand on his own two feet. We'll consult him, of course, but I think he'll listen to me now." Another grin. "That's my reward for being pounded by Mighty Jack."

He touched her cheek with his fingers and they came away wet. "Now, what have I said?" he asked, bewildered.

"I don't know." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "I don't know why I'm turning into a watering pot."

"If I'd had to look after this family for as many years as you, all on my own, I wouldn't be a watering pot, I'd be a raving lunatic."

He was rewarded with a watery chuckle.

His hand tangled in her hair. "You're not alone now," he said seriously. "I'm here. I'm your husband. Don't shut me out. Don't ever shut me out."

The cold hand of reality touched her heart, and she bent her head so that he couldn't read her expression. His fingers moved gently from her hair to her cheek, then he tipped up her chin so that she couldn't evade his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

"I was thinking of Constance," she said.

"Ah, Constance. She has the right idea, you know. A Season in London would be just the thing, not for Lucy, but for her. She's lonely, Sara, and she's a menace, not only to herself but to every man in Stoneleigh."

"Don't I know it," said Sara with feeling.

"She's lonely," Max repeated softly. "A woman like that needs a husband. And once she's married, she'll be much happier, and so will we."

Sara sighed. "It's not as easy as that. We don't have friends and acquaintances in London, and even if we did, who would want to marry someone whose name is Carstairs?"

"I did."

She chuckled. "Yes, but-"

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. "I have friends and acquaintances in London. But let's not get caught up in mere details. Once we know what the problem is, we can think of ways to solve it. And it seems to me that money won't solve this family's problems."

"I never said or believed that money would solve all our problems. Yes, I wanted to protect Anne, but I also wanted to fulfill my father's dying wishes, that's all."

He linked his fingers through hers. "And you did, by marrying me. He trusted your judgment. That's why, in his will, he allowed the trust to be dissolved on your marriage. Now there are two of us to decide how best to take care of your family."

She smiled at Max. "I remember thinking," she said, "that night in Reading, that you were a good, kind man. I think I must have had a guardian angel who sent you to the wrong room that night."

"And I remember thinking," he said, "that fate had touched me on the shoulder, and that if I didn't accept it, I would always wonder what I'd missed."

She bent over him, and their lips met, but the pressure of her hand on his chest made him wince, and she pulled away.

"Admit it, Sara," he said, "I'm the best thing that ever happened to you."

"I'm not denying it, but-"

"But what?"

She wasn't sure that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. "I wish Anne could be as happy as I am."

"If we could solve the riddle of William, I think she would be happy, or at least she would be at peace."

"I thought we were going to forget about William. I thought you said you were no longer interested in getting the story for your newspaper."

His lashes were drooping, and he missed the flash of fear in her eyes. "I'm thinking of us," he said, yawning. "I don't want William casting a shadow over our lives. We'll find him, Sara, or at least we'll give it a good try."

He gave a slow, sleepy smile and edged onto his side. "When are you going to admit it, Sara?"

Fear s.h.i.+vered through her. "Admit what?"

"That you love me? Then I'll admit ... " He sighed.

She stood there, staring down at him, her heart beating frantically against her ribs.

There was a knock at the door, and she went to answer it. It was Arthur, the footman. She sent him away. Max was sleeping and she didn't want to waken him. She didn't want him to say the words, because she didn't know how she would answer him.

She covered him with the eiderdown, and made herself comfortable on one of the chairs. But no matter how hard she tried, sleep would not come.

*Chapter Twenty-two*

In the following days, no hint of the turmoil that raged inside Sara showed on the surface, and the fiercer the turmoil, the quieter she became. She'd been living in a dream world, allowing herself to drift with the current, and that current had dashed her up on a rocky sh.o.r.e.

The problem with William wasn't going to go away. Max wouldn't allow it. He was determined to clear her name. She had no choice, now, but to face whatever awaited her in the dower house. But she would do it without Max, because she had more to worry about than herself.

There was more to it than that. She'd fallen in love with him. Love, she discovered, was painful. She'd made mistakes, serious mistakes, but she wouldn't allow anyone to pay for them but herself. If her worst fears were realized, she would pay the penalty, even if it meant losing Max. The last thing she wanted was for him to be tainted with her guilt.

She made her plans with care. The first thing she did was find another pistol to replace the one she'd lost, and this time, she promised herself, if someone attacked her, she would not run away. Then she checked on the supply of laudanum in the medicine box and found it more than adequate for her needs. Finally, she gave the order to have the dower house cleared of all rubble and fallen beams. She told Drew that she had engaged a builder to look over the empty sh.e.l.l and a.s.sess whether it was worth the money to rebuild it, and she didn't want any accidents to happen while workmen were poking around.