Page 14 of Romancing the Scot
Forcing herself to stay on her feet, she made her way slowly across the floor, counting the black and white blocks as she went. She looked ahead. Thirty steps to go. Ten. Five. She took hold of the knob, pushed it open, and staggered in.
The room was lit by a single lamp across the room. A dark-haired man stared at her from behind a desk, a look of astonishment on his face. No one else was in the room.
* * *
“You’re awake.”
But was she? Hugh wondered, trying to keep his voice calm as he stood.
She was a wraith, thin and ghostly. Wild blond curls descended in waves to her waist. Bare feet poked out from beneath the billowy nightgown. Large eyes dominated the classic symmetry of her face. She blinked and peered at him, but it appeared she could not focus. She was shivering violently, her chattering teeth audible from across the way.
“Where is . . . where is my . . . ?”
Hugh guessed she was looking for Jo or Anna.
“Upstairs,” he said, coming around his desk. He motioned to a nearby chair. “Why don’t you sit and I’ll call for my sister.”
She shook her head and turned to leave but came face to face with the wall of books along the wall. She paused, her fingers running momentarily along the leather spines.
“I haven’t read these.”
That was no surprise to Hugh. He doubted the volumes of commentary on English law would provide interesting reading for her. But there was no point in mentioning it, for she swayed and he caught her as she began to fall. He put an arm around her waist to steady her.
“Let me go.” She struggled weakly. “Need to find him.”
“Whom do you need to find?” he asked.
She burned with fever. He could feel it through the thick nightgown. This close, he saw the trembling of her lips, the patches of red in her cheeks. The fever seemed to be scorching her from the inside. Blue eyes the color of sapphires struggled to focus as she looked up into his face.
“Where is he?” she asked, her voice now edged with panic.
“Tell me his name and perhaps I can help you.”
“His medicine. The wound. I have to see to it.”
She pushed at him to get free, and he released her. He thought of the jewel that Jo showed him. She would not travel alone, carrying a treasure the size of that diamond. There had to be a companion. A husband, father, brother . . . or a suitor.
She walked away a few steps and then faltered. She looked over her shoulder, stretching a hand toward him.
“Room . . . spinning.”
Hugh reached for her again, and this time she fell into his arms, clutching at his shirt. Her face pressed against his chest, and he breathed in the scent of rose and lavender.
As her soft curls brushed against his chin, his senses lit up with memories. His wife, the way she insisted on being held constantly during the difficult days before he returned to his regiment on the Peninsula. The feel and smell of her hair. The salty taste of the tears he kissed from her cheek. Those were their final moments together.
He’d wondered so many times since if Amelia knew the end was coming. If she did, she must have envisioned it to behisdeath and not her own. Not their son’s. He also recalled his impatience. He could not understand her panic, her grief.
If he could only go back in time.
“Blackstone.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. She must know someone by the name of Blackstone. Perhaps it was her companion’s name.
“Is that your family name?”
“William Curry,” she said, pushing away from his chest far enough to look up into his eyes.
The realization dawned. She was speaking of a volume she’d just seen on his shelf. He wanted to smile. Feverish, confused, in search of someone she’d lost, her mind was following two paths. She’d done the same thing when he carried her up to the house.
