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‘Hmm.’ He sounded unconvinced. ‘Come into the inn so you can wait in the warm.’
‘Good idea.’ She looked around and shivered. The village of Gretna was covered in a thin layer of white. ‘Snow!’
‘Just a little. It won’t stop us from leaving again tomorrow.’ He spoke briefly to the coachman and then reached for her hand, leading her into an old and cosy-looking inn.
‘Wait here.’ He found her a vacant armchair by the fireplace, his expression still full of concern. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Henrietta fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief and sank into the armchair with a sense of relief. It was old and tattered and stained in places, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to bury herself in its warmth and close her eyes again. Her nose was running, she was finding it increasingly difficult to swallow and, overall, she was starting to suspect that she was a great deal sicker than she’d initially thought—certainly more than she’d let on. Feverish didn’t seem like a strong enough word for the hot tremors now coursing through her body. Even so, if she were going to collapse, she was determined to do it as a married woman. If anything happened to her, then what would become of her nephews? Sebastian would take
care of them, but it would be much easier if he was already legally their uncle.
‘You are not all right.’
She opened her eyes with a jolt to find him leaning over her, looking as though there was a lot more he wanted to say.
‘No, I’m not.’ She lifted her head with an effort. ‘What did the blacksmith say?’
‘That he won’t marry women who are sick.’
‘He did not!’
‘He’ll probably say something about you needing to be in your right mind.’ He placed a hand on her forehead. ‘You’re burning up.’
‘That doesn’t mean I’m not in my right mind.’
‘You have a fever.’
‘I’m just a bit hot.’
‘It’s more than—’
‘No, it’s not, not yet.’ She pushed his hand away. ‘It probably will be, but I can still say I do without sneezing. After that, I admit I might require some kind of medicine, but right now I’d like to get on with it.’
It was a good argument, she thought—authoritative, firm and determined—although it would have been a lot more effective if she hadn’t decided to add gravitas to the words by standing up and then immediately veering off to one side.
‘That’s it.’ He caught her elbow, stopping her from tumbling over. ‘You’re going to bed.’
‘I’m not. We didn’t come all this way to give up now.’
‘We’re not giving up. We’re postponing.’
‘No!’ She grabbed his shoulder, trying not to lean too heavily against him. ‘Did the blacksmith say he’d marry us now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we’re getting married now or I’ll change my mind.’
‘Is that so?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to blackmail me by any chance, would you?’
‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘It’s now or never and right now I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions. You said we were equals, remember?’
‘We would be if we could both stand upright.’
‘Please, Sebastian.’
His jaw set, as if he were still going to refuse, before he muttered something she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand. ‘All right.’ He tightened his grip on her arm as if he were afraid she might topple over again at any moment, which she had to admit was a distinct possibility. ‘But I’m summoning a doctor now. Hopefully he’ll be here by the time we get back.’
‘Fine.’
