To Desire a Devil Read Online Free Page B

wakes.”
    “I doubt he’ll do any such thing,” Beatrice said firmly, ignoring both her uncle’s hopeful tone in his last words and her
     own uneasiness. “Surely it’s only the fever. He was burning up when I touched his face.”
    “S’pose I’ll have to send for a physician.” Uncle Reggie scowled at Lord Hope. “And pay for it m’self.”
    “It would be the Christian thing to do,” Beatrice murmured. She watched anxiously as the footmen lowered Hope to the bed.
     He hadn’t moved or made a sound since his collapse. Was he dying?
    Uncle Reggie grunted. “And I’ll have to explain this to my guests somehow. Bound to be gossiping about it this very moment.
     We’ll be the talk of the town, take my word.”
    “Yes, Uncle,” Beatrice said soothingly. “I can supervise here if you wish to attend to our guests.”
    “Don’t take too long, and don’t get too close to the blighter. No telling what he might do if he wakes.” Uncle Reggie glared
     at the unconscious man before stumping out of the room.
    “I won’t.” Beatrice turned to the waiting footmen. “George, please see that a physician is called in case the earl becomes
     distracted and forgets the matter.”
Or thinks better of the cost,
she mentally added.
    “Yes, miss.” George started for the door.
    “Oh, and send Mrs. Callahan up, will you, George?” Beatrice frowned at the pale, bearded man on the bed. He was moving restlessly,
     as if he might be waking. “Mrs. Callahan always seems to know what to do.”
    “Yes, miss.” George hurried from the room.
    Beatrice looked at the remaining three footmen. “One of you needs to go tell Cook to warm some water, brandy, and—”
    But at that moment, Hope’s black eyes flew open. The movement was so sudden, his glare so intense, that Beatrice squeaked
     like a ninny and jumped back. She straightened and, feeling a little embarrassed of her missishness, hurried forward as Lord
     Hope began to rise.
    “No, no, my lord! You must remain in bed. You’re ill.” She touched his shoulder, lightly but firmly pushing him back.
    And suddenly she was seized by a whirlwind. Lord Hope violently grabbed her, shoved her down on the bed, and fell atop her.
     He might be thin, but Beatrice felt as if a sack of bricks had landed on her chest. She gasped for air and looked up into
     black eyes glaring at her malevolently from only inches away. He was so close she could count each individual sooty eyelash.
    So close she felt the painful press of that horrid knife in her side.
    She tried to press her hand against his chest—she couldn’t breathe!—but he caught it, crushing it in his own as he growled,
“J’insiste sur le fait—”
    He was cut off as Henry, one of the footmen, bashed him over the head with a bed warmer. Lord Hope slumped, his heavy head
     thumping onto Beatrice’s breast. For a moment, she was in fear of suffocating altogether. Then Henry pulled him off her. She
     took a shuddering breath and stood on shaky legs, turning to look at her unconscious patient in the bed. His head lolled,
     his piercing black eyes veiled now. Would he have really hurt her? He’d looked so evil—
demented,
even. What in God’s name had happened to him? She rubbed her sore hand, swallowing hard as she regained her composure.
    George returned and looked shocked when Henry explained what had happened.
    “Even so, you shouldn’t have hit him so hard,” Beatrice scolded Henry.
    “’E was hurting you, miss.” Henry sounded mulish.
    She brushed a trembling hand over her hair, checking that her coiffure was still in place. “Yes, well, it didn’t actually
     come to that, although I admit for a moment I was fearful. Thank you, Henry. I’m sorry; I’m still a bit discomposed.” She
     bit her lip, eyeing Lord Hope again. “George, I think it wise to place a guard at the viscount’s door. Day and night, mind
     you.”
    “Yes, miss,” George replied sturdily.
    “It’s for his own sake as well as