“Does that mean we will be in hell together?”
“Perhaps it means we should pray about it rather than be blasphemous.”
Merry gave a resigned sigh at Serendipity’s return to the duty of scolding sister. “Never change, Seri. Not for love or money. Never change.”
As they reached Duncan’s doorway, Serendipity stepped aside. “I shall leave you to visit privately with your Duncan, but do not tarry. The hour grows late, and you need your rest. Shadows under one’s eyes do not a beautiful bride make.”
“Thank you, Seri.” Merry caught hold of Serendipity’s hand to keep her from stepping away. “Thank you for everything. I am going to miss you so much.”
Serendipity caught her up in such an intense hug that tears sprang to Merry’s eyes. “I shall miss you more, baby sister. I promise you, I shall miss you more.” Then she dashed away and popped into their shared room, leaving Merry standing alone in the hallway.
Hand on the latch and heart in her throat, Merry tapped on the door to Duncan’s room.
Hurried footsteps softly thumped across the wooden floor on the other side. Mr. Brown, Duncan’s valet, opened the door the barest bit, saw her, then opened it wide with a gracious bow. “My lady.”
She paused just a few steps into the room, unable to breathe, unable tobe, because of the sight of Duncan lying there, wounded, pale, and oh so very still. She pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from gasping aloud. He looked so…so…vulnerable.Her mighty champion was human, after all, and quite capable of injury and death. She shooed away that horrid thought and hurried to his side.
His upper arm was wrapped in a bandage and secured in place with more linen strips wrapped around his bare chest and shoulder. Fist clenched, his free hand rested on top of the bedclothes covering him from the waist down. The oil lamps on either side of the bed cast subtly shifting shadows across the gentle rise and fall of his muscular chest.
She went to the left side of the bed, his uninjured side, and touched his clenched fist. He jerked, and his sooty eyelashes fluttered open. For a second, he seemed ready for an attack, but as he focused and his eyes cleared, he relaxed.
“My own,” he said, his voice weary and rough as gravel scraping metal. He frowned, studying her. “Are ye unharmed?”
“Once again, you kept me safe, my champion.”
He blew out a deep breath, a heavy sigh, and closed his eyes. “Good.” He grimaced and forced his eyes open once more. “That feckin’ man said there was no laudanum in that whisky. He lied.”
Easing down to sit on the edge of the bed, she cradled his hand between hers and kissed his bruised knuckles. “Laudanum helps you rest and subdues your stubbornness so you will be still and heal, as I am sure Dr. Hatler would tell you.”
“I can rest now that I know ye are safe.” His eyelids drooped, then stretched open wide again, as he battled the effects of the drug. “It was Brixham. Angus got the sorry bastard.” He wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something foul. “Beg pardon for the language.”
“It is a shame it had to come to this.” She wouldn’t tell him she had seen Brixham. At least, she wouldn’t tell him just yet. “But now itis over. We must ask Dr. Hatler to speak to the constable before he continues to wherever he is bound. I’m uncertain whether Brixham has any family who might go after Angus, but we must make certain he is safe from any recriminations.” She eased open Duncan’s fist, flattening his hand across her palm. Such a large, powerful hand, the hand of a man determined to protect her. “You should rest now.”
He closed his hand around hers and pulled it to his cheek. “So verra glad ye are safe,” he whispered, sounding sleepy. Then he jerked, opened his eyes, and sought her out, locking his gaze with hers. “Will ye not marry me now?”
“What?” The laudanum had to be confusing him.
“With Brixham dead, will ye not wish to marry in London rather than Scotland?”
She hadn’t really thought about that. With Brixham no longer an issue—or, at least, he wouldn’t be as soon as his tortured body released his soul—she and Duncan could return to London, have the banns read, and marry in a month in a most conventional, un-scandalous manner. Never the patient sort, she no longer found that thought very appealing. “What do you wish to do?”
He hugged her hand tighter to his bristly cheek, then pressed a lingering kiss to it. “I wish to marry in Scotland, as we planned.” He flinched and arched his back as though fighting a sudden twinge of pain. “But I know ye’ll no longer want that scandal added to the rumors Brixham started.”
“Well then, you are sadly misinformed, and do you need more laudanum? I can fetch Dr. Hatler.”
He stared at her. “What are ye saying?
“Do you need more laudanum?”
He barely shook his head. “Not that. Before that. About my being misinformed.”
“As soon as you are able—” No, she didn’t need to phrase it that way because he would lie and say he was able when he wasn’t. “Assoon as there is no longer a risk of infection, we shall continue our journey to Gretna Green as planned.”
Narrowing his eyes, he watched her as if she wasn’t real. “Why?”
Good heavens, reasoning with a drugged man was most frustrating. “Do you wish to get married at Gretna Green or London?”
“Gretna Green.”
