Touch Me

10

WITH HIS GAZE scanning their surroundings, Simon knelt beside Baxter. Just as he touched his fingers to the side of the giant man’s neck and felt his steady pulse, Baxter stirred and moaned.

“He’s coming around,” Simon said in a terse undertone. “I need to see if anyone’s still in the house.” Taking Genevieve by the shoulders, he backed her up several paces until her spine touched the paneling. “Stay here against the wall with your pistol at the ready until I return.”

“But Baxter-”

“Will be fine until I return.”

“I can’t leave him like that on the floor.”

“You won’t be of any use to anyone if the intruder catches you unaware because you’re tending to him. I won’t be long.”

After a brief hesitation, she nodded. With his knife at the ready, Simon quickly made his way through the house. His instincts told him the intruder was gone, and his search ascertained that was the case. The last room he checked before returning to the foyer was Genevieve’s bedchamber. On a hunch he opened her dresser drawer and felt beneath the stacks of undergarments. His jaw clenched. He didn’t know what else might have been taken from the house, but one thing was missing-the puzzle box was no longer hidden beneath her lingerie.

Had she moved it herself-or had the intruder taken it? He didn’t believe for an instant that this was some random break-in. Someone else wanted that letter. But who? He didn’t know, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

With his mouth flattened into a grim line, he hurried back to the foyer.

“The house is empty,” Simon reported.

Genevieve immediately went to Baxter and dropped to her knees beside him. “He’s groaned several times and just opened his eyes.”

“Good. See to him and I’ll be right back.” Simon hurried outside and retrieved Beauty who mercifully still slept as she was carried into the foyer and set on a rug in the corner. Simon then knelt beside Genevieve who was gently dabbing the wound on Baxter’s head with a lacy handkerchief. “How is he?”

“Conscious.” No sooner had she uttered the word than Baxter attempted to sit up. Simon immediately urged him back down.

“Bloody hell, me head feels like a battalion of demons are stabbing me skull with their pitchforks,” Baxter said in a gravelly voice. He groaned and slammed his eyes shut. “What the hell sort of rotgut did I drink?”

“You didn’t drink anything,” Genevieve said. “You were knocked unconscious.”

Baxter opened one eye and frowned. “Unconscious?”

“By someone who made a thorough and not very neat search of the house,” Simon said grimly as he leaned closer to examine the egg-sized lump on the side of Baxter’s bald head. He turned to Genevieve. “We need some light.”

She rose and returned less than a minute later bearing an oil lamp that cast the foyer in a golden glow. After looking at Baxter’s wound, Simon said, “It’s stopped bleeding. But that’s a hell of a lump you’ve got there.”

Baxter grunted. “Hell of a headache I’ve got.”

“Did you see who hit you?”

Baxter tried to shake his head, winced, then said, “No. I were tossin’ and turnin’ and heard a crashing sound, like glass breakin’. Thought it might be Sophia getting into some mischief, so I came to check.” His gaze shifted to Genevieve. “Didn’t want to think of you cuttin’ yer feet in the mornin’. Next thing I know, I’m starin’ up at you with me head feelin’ two yards thick.” His eyes widened. “Bastard wot hit me didn’t hurt you, Gen, did he?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

Baxter’s gaze turned to Simon and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Just wot the bloody hell are you doin’ here?”

“I was escorting Genevieve home. When we arrived, the door was open and we found you lying here.”

“Escortin’ her home?” Baxter once again struggled to sit up, this time accomplishing the task with Simon and Genevieve’s assistance. After taking several slow breaths, he turned to Simon with a baleful expression. “She already was home. So maybe yer the one who nearly broke me skull.”

Before Simon could reply, Genevieve said quietly, “I’d left the house. To go to the springs. Simon was walking Beauty and they happened upon me.”

Baxter blinked. “Wot in God’s name were ye thinkin’ to be going off to the springs at night by yerself?”

“I took my pistol and was prepared to shoot any lurkers.”

“Ye didn’t shoot him,” Baxter grumbled, glowering at Simon.

“I wasn’t lurking,” Simon said lightly. “But someone was.” He recalled the sensation of being watched he’d experienced at the festival. Turning to Genevieve, he asked, “Have there been any robberies in the area lately?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“You need to go through the house, see if anything was stolen. Do you have any valuables?”

Something flickered in her eyes. “A few pieces of jewelry, but nothing worth a great deal.”

“Let’s get Baxter cleaned and bandaged, then we’ll check to see if anything is missing.”

While Genevieve went to gather the bandages, Simon assisted Baxter to his feet, nearly staggering under the man’s considerable weight as he helped him to the sitting room.

“Don’t think I don’t know wot yer up to,” Baxter muttered as they made their way slowly down the corridor.

“Up to?”

“I seen the way ye look at her.”

“And how is that?”

“Like she’s a pork chop and yer a starvin’ mongrel.” Baxter halted and jerked his arm from Simon’s grasp. He swayed on his feet and slapped a beefy hand against the wall to steady himself. Shooting Simon a dark scowl surely meant to reduce him to dust, he said, “I won’t let ye hurt her.”

“I’ve no intention of hurting her.” Indeed, Simon hoped his investigations would prove that Genevieve’s reasons for removing the letter from the alabaster box were harmless and that she was innocent of any wrongdoings.

“Don’t matter wot yer intentions are, ye could do it just the same, and she don’t deserve it. She’s been hurt enough.” Baxter leaned forward. “If you hurt her, I’m going to hurt you. Consider yerself warned.”

Simon didn’t doubt for a moment that Baxter could crush his skull like a walnut with his bare hands. Luckily, thanks to his training and experience as a spy, he excelled at extricating himself from dangerous situations. He’d been threatened by bigger men than Baxter.

“Fine. I’m warned. Now let’s see to getting that head wound cleaned so you’re better able to protect her-from whoever broke into the house.”

Baxter made a sound that resembled a growl and resumed walking slowly. “The bastard will be damn sorry when I get my hands on him. Wot I want to know is wot the hell was she thinkin’, wanderin’ around the woods at night? And why the bloody hell were you walkin’ yer dog on her property? Spyin’ on her, were ye?”

“No, I was chasing my ill-mannered puppy whose razor-sharp teeth bit through her lead. I’m lucky I didn’t have to chase the beast to Scotland. Be glad, at least for tonight, that Genevieve wasn’t here. She might have ended up unconscious like you. Or worse.” A shudder ran through him at the thought.

They entered the sitting room and Baxter plopped down heavily on the settee in front of the fireplace. Genevieve entered seconds later carrying a bowl of water and several lengths of clean linen. Moving directly toward Baxter, she said to Simon, “I’ll take care of him. There’s a bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer of the desk. Could you please pour some for Baxter? And help yourself if you’d like.”

Simon crossed to the desk. There were two bottom drawers, one on each side of the chair. Thanks to his earlier searches of the house he knew which one contained the bottle of whiskey. While he poured a generous portion for Baxter and a fingerful for himself, he watched Genevieve gently cleanse away the blood with a steady hand. A steady gloved hand. Clearly not even Baxter saw her without her gloves, and once again, he wondered what sort of injury she was hiding. He recalled the feel of her fingers sifting through his