Page 45 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
“His lordship is going to be livid you’re here,” the older woman continued, unaware of her thoughts.
“Oh he will, so perhaps it is a good thing he does not possess the strength to argue with me at the moment,” Alicia declared. She reached out to squeeze the woman’s arm. “I suppose I should introduce the marquess to his new nurse.”
After ensuring Mrs. Simpson heeded her words and went to rest, Alicia washed her hands in a basin a maid had promptly delivered. Next, she took time to encourage the MacLean sisters to drink some water, and then stubbornly managed to get them to eat several small bites of bread. Satisfied they were resting comfortably, Alicia bathed her hands again.
Eventually, she stood outside Niall’s door.
As she tucked stray strands of hair back into her bun, her hands shook. Niall would be upset she was here, of that she had no doubt. But would he demand she leave again? Another rejection from him would cut to the quick, but this was not the time to be thinking about personal feelings. Sick children were counting on her, on them both. If her husband had any objections, she would not acknowledge them.
Setting her jaw, she peered around the doorframe.
Niall lay on his side in a narrow cot, his back to the door. With his dark hair loose about him, she guessed he was asleep. However, in the next moment, he stiffened and leaned over to retch into a pan on the floor.
Alicia moved to his side in an instant, smoothing lank, dark hair from his pallid face and murmuring low, sympathetic sounds. He finally fell back on the pillow, panting with exertion, and his eyes clenched shut. Was he in pain? Seeing him so spent, so weak, made the back of her eyes burn.
She reached for a wet cloth and trailed it gently across his brow. “Would you like some water?”
Niall’s eyes flew open, and it took him a moment to focus on her. Crimson swept across his cheekbones as his pupils dilated. “Mo chreach, why in the hell are you here?” he rasped.
“Because you’re ill, of course.” She snorted, continuing to cleanse his face. “I’m your wife, and the least I can do is see you through this.”
He moaned, trying to pull the sheet over his head. “But you’ll become ill, too. I ordered all the patronesses to stay away to help contain the disease, but I should have known you’d require a direct order.”
“How silly you are to think I would follow a direct order from you. You’re no general,” Alicia replied smartly. “As it is, I’m here now and I intend to stay.”
“Stubborn woman,” Niall growled, but the effect was lost when he leaned over and retched again.
When he was done, Alicia assisted him in finding a comfortable position and tucked the blankets tight around his form. “Be thankful I’m a stubborn woman, for my stubbornness will ensure you recover to argue with me another day.”
A hint of a smile fell on his pale lips before he grimaced. “Have you checked on the children? How are Eunice and little Edith? And Hannah?”
She patted his hand, even as she chose her words with extra care. “The children are weak, but I’m hopeful their youth will pull them through.”
Niall threw an arm over his eyes. “Christ, I hope so. I’m four times their age, and this blasted disease has knocked me completely off my feet.”
“That it has. How very lucky you are that, besides your every attempt to avoid me, I’m still here to help you back on them.” Alicia held out a water glass to him. “Drink some of this, if you please.”
“I don’t want to drink anything,” he grumbled. “Everything I have tried to drink or eat has been expelled.”
“Which is precisely why you must keep trying. We cannot allow you to become dehydrated. That is the key to recovery.”
“How do you know that?” Niall pulled his arm aside and glared at her with sunken gray eyes. “Even the blasted physician didn’t know what we suffered from.”
“It’s cholera, and I know because I survived it when I was a child.”
Her revelation seemed to steal the argument from him, for he took the glass after a long pause and promptly drank a gulp of water. Dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, Niall licked his lips. “Will you tell me the story?”
Dropping her gaze, Alicia fidgeted with his bedclothes and smoothed a hand over his rumpled shirt, thinking she could magically erase the wrinkles. As if wrinkles mattered in a time such as this. “If you sincerely wish to hear about it, I will tell you. But not now.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. “Who told you I was ill?”
“Juliana.”
“Of course she did. She tells you everything, it seems.” He raked a hand through his snarled hair, then dropped his arm, breathing heavily. “I had hoped you wouldn’t see me this way.”
“See you as mortal?” When he snorted, Alicia dared to stroke her knuckles across his jaw as her tone turned serious. “Why did you stay? You didn’t have to. When the children first fell ill, you could have left their care to Mrs. Simpson and her staff. You have so many things demanding your time, and no one would have faulted you for walking away.”
“I would have faultedmyself.” Niall held her gaze. “These aremychildren. I could not leave their care to anyone else but myself, my committee responsibilities and campaign be damned.”
