Chapter 50: Chapter 50: MASSIVE DOSE

Perhaps his brother had accompanied McKinley to the door, asking him the kind of probing questions Ian had managed to avoid for the last year and a half. And he could only hope that the doctor still felt bound by the terms of his original promise not to answer them. When the door of his bedroom eased open, Ian turned his head to discover his brother looking around it. Finding that he was still awake, the Earl walked in, closing the door behind him. As desperately as he was trying to interpret his brother's expression, Ian found he was uncertain how much Dare had been told. Of course, if McKinley had not kept his confidence, he would be made aware of it soon enough. "As I'm sure your sawbones told you, I'm still not likely to turn up my toes in the family crypt." Ian said, injecting the kind of gentle raillery into his tone that was customary between them. "You have permission to stop worrying."His brother crossed the room and stood looking down on him. Ian held up his hand, and Dare enclosed it in his, the grip warm and strong. His expression, however, was still enigmatic. "I have seen far too much of you in the horizontal lately to do that," Dare said. "McKinley says you have broken ribs.""He wasn't sure," Ian hedged. "He strapped them in case.""And your leg?""Hurts like bloody hell. Not something I am unaccustomed to, I assure you."Dare's lips tightened and then pursed, as if he were thinking. "You didn't send for me to offer sympathy. If I know you, and believe me I do, then I should be the last person you'd want hovering at your bedside."Despite the haze from the laudanum that was beginning to steal over his senses, Ian couldn't prevent a smile at the accuracy of that judgement. And feeling the effects of the drug, he knew he wouldn't have long to talk. Not coherently. Perhaps it would be better to reveal what he had been thinking, as well as the doctor's comment, which seemed to back up his own belief. Then he would give the problem over to his brother's intelligence, trusting him to separate whatever needed looking into from what might be nothing but drug-induced fantasy. "The sweep's boy seemed old," Ian said. "Old?" Dare repeated. He leaned closer, apparently trying to make sure he had heard the words correctly. "Annie thought so," Ian said, knowing he wasn't expressing this well and that it probably made no sense to his brother. However, the opium was running through his veins in a great roaring wave now. Suddenly, what he had been worrying about since the attack yesterday didn't seem important any more. And far too difficult to explain. After all, Val was here now, and nothing else would happen. He closed his eyes, still trying to organize his wayward thoughts. They seemed to be drifting everywhere but where he wanted them to go. He knew there had been something else he needed to tell his brother. Something important. Perhaps if he had got some sleep last night, he would have been able to concentrate. That was what the doctor had told him. The last thing McKinley had said as he walked out of the door. Try to get some sleep. And with Val here... He opened his eyes and found his brother still standing beside his bed. There was something else he wanted to say, Ian thought. He couldn't seem to find the right words, however. Maybe if he closed his eyes for a moment, just to rest them, then it would come back to him. Just for a moment. Dare released his hand and laid it on his chest, pulling the covers over it. Aware on some level of what Val was doing, Ian opened his eyes again, afraid his brother was leaving. He was relieved to see him instead take the chair from beneath the window and bring it to the bedside. As soon as Dare realized he was watching him, the Earl smiled at him. "Go to sleep," he advised. "You can tell me about it when you wake."Ian wanted to tell Dare that he must stay until he had told him the whole, but it seemed too much trouble to form tide words. Besides, he knew his brother. There was no danger of Val deserting him. And he was right, of course. He would be able to think more clearly after he had slept. Ian Sinclair closed his eyes, no longer conscious that there had been something very important he needed to share with his brother. Something he had believed last night to be important enough to call the Earl back to London. Something whose urgency had now been lost in the massive dose of laudanum the doctor had administered before he left.