Midnight My Love by Anne Marie Novark Page B

made her way to her
bedchamber. Would she ever understand Rochdale?
     

CHAPTER FIVE
    It was midmorning by the time
Damien crossed the black and white tiled foyer in the front
hallway, making his way to the library. He had spent a long night,
keeping watch over Robert. The fever finally broke around six and
the patient was now sleeping soundly.
    Damien had discarded his jacket and cravat
during the night. His shirt was badly wrinkled and he was in need
of a shave. He had just finished a substantial breakfast; now he
would retire to bed. He wanted something to read to help lull him
to sleep.
    The knocker sounded on the front door.
Damien looked around expecting to see the butler or a footman
answer the summons. He reached the library door and the knocker
sounded again. He paused, but no one came. Shrugging his shoulders,
he decided to answer the door himself.
    Sir Howard Carlisle stood
on the threshold. He held a basket of lemons and oranges in one
hand and a bouquet of pink roses in the other. The squire's mouth
dropped when he saw who had answered the door. "Rochdale!" he
ejaculated. "What are you doing here!" Carlisle's cheeks flushed in
annoyance.
    Damien smiled as he
considered the basket and flowers. "I'm staying here, Carlisle," he
said smoothly. "What are you doing here, old fellow?"
    "I've come to see how Turlington goes on, of
course," Sir Howard said. "Why are you answering the door, my lord?
Where is Sterling?" He tried to look past the viscount.
    Damien opened the door wider to admit the
visitor. The squire stood in the hallway and stared at the
viscount's shirt. Damien bowed. "You must excuse my state of
undress, Carlisle. It's been a long night. I see you've brought
some fruit for our invalid. Very thoughtful. Are the roses also for
Robert?"
    "No, no. The flowers are for Miss
Turlington, my lord. You must know Miss Turlington and I . . ."
Carlisle stopped, his eyes widening as he glanced toward the
stairs.
    Damien turned. Alexandra came down the
staircase, looking delightfully sleep-flushed. She wore an emerald
green dressing gown and her long chestnut hair tumbled around her
shoulders. As if it were yesterday, he could still remember the
feel of that glorious hair entwined in his fingers. He thought she
had never appeared more desirable.
    Alexandra stopped midway down the stairs
when she saw Carlisle. Damien watched as she drew her wrapper close
and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders.
    "Carlisle!" she exclaimed. "You're up and
about early, I see." She started down the stairs again. "Rochdale,
Robert is awake and asking for you. I know you are about to retire,
but would you please come with me and see what he wants? He won't
tell me for some reason."
    Damien met her at the bottom of the stairs,
taking her hands in his. "Yes, of course, my love. But don't you
think you should dress first?" He grinned as her eyes grew
round.
    Carlisle stepped forward hastily. "Unhand
the lady, Rochdale. Miss Turlington is as good as betrothed to me.
Unhand her I say, or name your seconds!"
    "Certainly, Carlisle. I'd be happy to meet
you anytime, any place you choose," Damien purred. He regarded his
opponent with menacing eyes.
    A shriek from the top of
the stairs broke the terrible tableau. "Alexandra
Turlington! Why are you standing there in dishabille in front of two men ?" Aunt Haygood
stared in horror at her niece. "I knew it! I knew you wouldn't be safe
with him in the
house," she moaned, clutching the tray she was carrying with such
force the tea service rattled.
    "Come upstairs immediately and clothe
yourself properly!" Miss Haygood commanded. "As if I don't have
enough to worry about with an invalid in the house. I made this
Willow-bark tea especially for dear Robert. Has his fever broken?
Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I feel my lumbago starting up again!"
    Damien lifted Alexandra's hands to his lips,
and placed a light kiss on each wrist. "Go get dressed," he said
huskily, releasing her hands which were now bunched into