The Devil’s Bargain by Edith Layton

Author:Edith Layton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-03-05T13:20:17+00:00

Alasdair lay in his great bed waiting for sleep to join him there. He had hopes of it even though it was broad daylight, because he’d drunk an evil draught the doctor had given him to ensure it. There were important things to be done, but he knew this was the first. Sleeping would knit his wounded body and calm his mind so that he could be up and about his business again.

The draperies on the windows were drawn, the ones around his bed never were. He didn’t like feeling as though he were sleeping in a closed box, that made him too vulnerable. Nor could he nap, drowsing away the afternoon as so many gentlemen did. A fashionable fellow would have a heavy luncheon, well fortified by ale or wine, then go to his club to settle in a chair for an afternoon doze, or return to his house to sleep until it was time to get up, dress and go out for a night’s pleasure that would last until dawn.

Alasdair considered that a waste of daylight. Besides, sleeping by day gave rise to strange dreams. He also hated to wake disoriented, finding dusk where there should have been dawn. Still, the bed was soft, the sheets clean and fragrant. He found a position that if not comfortable for his abused body, was at least bearable. But when he closed his eyes, he still saw too much.

Was he too obsessed with revenge? Of course. Was Kate in any danger? Perhaps. He hadn’t anticipated that, so he’d have to move quickly—when he could move again. Which meant he had to sleep.

He shifted to another position. Was he in any danger? That meant nothing to him. He’d been in danger many times before. It didn’t matter what happened to him so long as he won in the end. Now he knew he would. He’d made sure the Scalbys knew it, too.

So, in effect, he’d already won.

That made their attack on him something he could appreciate. It hadn’t been to stop him, as Leigh had thought. Alasdair knew them too well for that. The attack was to take revenge on him for what he’d done and would soon finish doing. But they’d failed. It was all over except for the celebrating.

So where was the vaunting joy? The exquisite reward for all his hard work? He didn’t feel much of anything anymore, but he’d been sure he’d feel a rush of joy at knowing he’d have his ultimate triumph. He didn’t.

But when he faced them at last and saw the knowledge of his triumph in their eyes, then surely he’d experience the exultation, the thrill that eluded him, the final taste of victory that was due him.

The doctor’s sleeping draught began to work. Alasdair felt his body relax, his thoughts swirling, losing their tight focus. He thought of Kate, smiling as he envisioned her pretty face. A lovely woman, he thought lazily. Game, brave, and just unconventional enough in her thoughts and habits to constantly surprise him.

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