Page 16 of A Daring Desire

“Don’t give me that,” Cat said with an appalled laugh. “You’ve to work a miracle this evening, but I beg you will do it, and with all speed.”

“That I shall. Now, come along and we shall have you looking like a princess before dinnertime.”

At the word dinner, Cat’s stomach made an audible sound of protest.

“Would it be very decadent to eat a little something while I’m bathing?” Cat asked hopefully.

“Dreadfully,” Jenny agreed. “I’ll have something sent up at once.”

“What a darling you are,” Cat said with a sigh, and went off to indulge herself in luxury.

“Here now, my lord, do you think you can sit up?”

Kilbane frowned, forcing his eyes open and focusing on the face looming over him. “Berrycloth?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Kilbane groaned. Had he been attacked? Run down by the mail coach? His beleaguered mind searched for answers in what seemed a muddle of fog and pain. No. Prison. He remembered prison and started up, looking around in panic.

“Easy there, you’re safe. We’re in England, remember?”

Kilbane stared at his secretary, panic subsiding as he collapsed against the pillows. He was as weak as a kitten, and it was hard to breathe. His chest felt held in a vice, constricting his lungs. Experimentally, he tried to take a deeper breath and cried out as pain lanced through his back.

“Careful now, my lord. You’ve been dreadfully sick. To be honest… well, I didn’t think you’d see this day.”

Kilbane looked at him with interest as memories came back to him. He recalled the dreadful journey back to England and feeling sick as a dog but determined to come. Why?

“You’re home now,” Berrycloth said, his voice oddly gentle. “At Connaught Place. Your wife has taken the very best care of you. You owe her your life, my lord, for she never gave up. She’s worn herself to a thread, poor creature. Dropping with fatigue, she was, but she’ll be here to see you soon.”

Alarm tripped down his back. His wife had nursed him? Good God. Unsettled by this alarming intelligence, Kilbane wracked his hazy mind once more and found a soft, cajoling voice. He remembered tears, and a plea for him to stay… the press of a sweet mouth and the whispered words: I am waiting for you.

Bewildered, Kilbane raised his fingers to his mouth, as though he might find some evidence of her kiss upon his skin. His heart gave another panicked little leap, and he felt suddenly light-headed with alarm. Turning, he discovered Berrycloth watching him, and scowled.

“Well, there’s no need for her to do anything more. You can do for me until I find a valet, and… and we’ll have to find somewhere to stay. Can’t remain here. Deal with it, would you?”

Berrycloth just stared at him, his expression less than encouraging, and Kilbane felt a prickle of shame creep up the back of his neck.

“Please,” he added gruffly. “And I’m… I’m very much obliged for everything you’ve done. I’ll be sure to recompense you appropriately, I assure you.”

Far from looking pleased at his generosity, Berrycloth glowered at him.

“Keep your money,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Well, don’t fly up into the boughs when I offer to thank you for your—”

“Service?” Berrycloth suggested irritably, shrugging his coat back on.

“Well, yes,” Kilbane replied, nettled. What was wrong with the fellow? “Whyever not?”

Berrycloth looked on the verge of storming out, but he walked to the bed, his face set. “My lord, over the past days, we have bathed you, changed your bed sheets, spooned medicines down your throat and wiped the sweat from your brow. We have fretted and prayed and wept for you, and if you think I want paying for that….” His lips compressed into a thin line, and he shook his head. “Oh, go to the devil.”

Utterly bewildered, Kilbane watched him go.

“Well, you could have fetched a glass of water before going off in a sulk,” he grumbled as the door closed on him, though in truth he was feeling very out of sorts, and he did not believe it was only his physical state making him wretched. He had the oddest sensation lingering in his chest. Sorrow and regret and… and anticipation, though he did not know why, and then the door opened, and his wife walked in.

Catherine.

Catherine, who had sat with him and tended to him and wept for him.