Page 111 of Never a Duchess
“I’m not leaving this room without him.” She had made an oath, pledged her love and loyalty. “Let them write what they like in theScandal Sheet, but I’ll not abandon him in his hour of need.” She offered Adam a reassuring grin. “Besides, you live amid utter chaos, though now I see why you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I love Eliza and the children. I love my life.”
“Yes, there is nothing more important than love.”
“Are you stealing my lines, Miss Ware?” Mr Daventry strode into the room, scanning Dounreay’s form keenly. He looked tired and in need of a stiff drink.
“I’m learning from a master,” she teased. “Forgive my rudeness, but I’m not moving from this bed.”
Mr Daventry shrugged. “I come merely to update you on current events. I shall leave you to explain the details to Dounreay when he wakes.”
She listened intently.
The case was over. The villains would be punished.
The only thing Lillian felt was relief.
It was almost midnight when Dounreay stirred. The maid had crept into the room to stoke the fire and leave a dose of laudanum on the side table. Lillian noticed the change in his breathing as soon as the maid closed the door.
“Now I know I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said weakly, brushing his lips against her hair. “Why else would the love of my life be lying in my bed?”
Lillian shot up, a burst of happiness filling her chest. “Thank heavens. You’re awake! Do you feel hot? Do you have a fever? Are you in pain? The maid has left more laudanum.”
“I’m fine, love.” With his good arm, Dounreay reached up to tuck her loose hair behind her ear. “Ye’re marrying a Highlander nae a foppish English ninny.”
She grinned. “Then you’d better hurry and get yourself well. We’ve a wedding to plan. Bairns to make.”
Mischief sparkled in his eyes. “I’m well enough to work on the last task, though ye’ll have to sit astride me and do most of the riding. Happen I might be ill for some time.” He stretched, wincing when he moved his right arm.
“Does it hurt terribly?”
“Nae more than a thorn in the arse.”
He sounded in such good spirits she gave her emotions free rein. The tears she’d kept at bay tumbled down her cheeks. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought my life was over. I never thought I’d hear that sensual Scottish burr again.”
He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “When I die, it will be from exhaustion, after a lifetime spent chasing ye over brook and glen and tumbling ye in the heather.”
It sounded idyllic. “When I die, I’ll likely freeze to death while making love to my husband in a bathing pool.”
Dounreay laughed and groaned in agony at the same time.
She might have told him that Mrs Rowlands had stolen the recipe from Mr Valmary after finding out about the game. That Anne had taken receipt of the poisoned perfume and thought her mistress had ordered another bottle.
She might have told him that Monsieur Baudelaire did not recover from the shock of shooting Moira’s son, and his heart had given out.
Mr Valmary was charged with three counts of murder. Madame Delafont managed to escape from the constables and hadn’t been seen since.
But she would tell him all that tomorrow.
Now she had a different agenda.
She scooted off the bed, padded towards the door and turned the key in the lock. “Do you think it would hurt if we got your heart racing a little? Surely getting the blood flowing will aid your recovery.”
He arched a brow. “Do ye mean to strip off those clothes and lie next to me in bed?”
“In the scheme of what I might do to you, Your Grace, is that not a little tame?” She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him. “You will tell me if it’s too much. You won’t have to move a muscle.”
Curiosity burned in his eyes. “What will ye do, love?”
