Page 16 of Romancing the Scot
Hugh crouched by her side. She winced in pain. He brushed back the tendrils of hair from her face. The nightgown had ridden up. As he pushed it down, his fingers brushed along the curve of her ankles. Footsteps echoed down a hallway and a young footman appeared, holding a taper.
“I heard voices, m’lord. Do you need—?”
“Tell Mr. Simons to send a rider to the village for Dr. Namby,” he ordered as the lad came closer. “Now.”
As the servant ran off, Hugh lifted Grace in his arms and started for the steps. She was burning up and shivering at the same time. She burrowed against his chest.
“Beyne’s Institutions of the Criminal Law.”
“I know. Fourth shelf,” he said, gathering her closer. “You’d like to read it.”
Fingers moved inside the neckline of his shirt, pressing against his warm skin. “Murray of Glendoch.”
“Yes.Acts and Laws of Parliament.Another captivating read,” he answered, trying to ignore the caress of her hand on his chest.
Her words became incoherent murmurs. From the little he could decipher, she was reciting a page from a medical journal.
Perhaps she was traveling with a doctor. Perhaps he was dead or injured. She was running from someone. But whom? And who was she?
He knew her first name. She’d been in Antwerp and he’d found some American coins in the crate. And she had a good mind and an interest in reading. But all they knew was that she was in possession of a valuable diamond.
Light appeared in the upper hallway. Anna met him at the top of the stairs and led Hugh back to the bedchamber.
“I’m sorry, m’lord.” She held up a candle. “I must have dozed off. Opened my eyes and she was gone.”
Hugh carried Grace in. “No harm done,” he said. “Leave a candle and go wake Lady Jo.”
The woman did as she was told and ran off. Flickering shadows danced on the walls. He laid Grace gently on the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
He sat beside her and touched her forehead. Too hot. He wondered if they would lose her after a week of trying to nurse her back to health. Perhaps he should have brought an Edinburgh doctor back with him.
“Blood.”
“Hush, lass. This is all a nightmare.” He liked it so much better when she was naming the titles on his bookshelf, or reciting some poem.
“I can’t leave him. He needs me. I must go back.” A tearful sob turned into a wracking cough.
He looked at the door, feeling helpless. Fighting the urge to escape, he lifted her head and offered a sip from the cup on the bedside table.
She swallowed a mouthful, once again able to breathe. He brushed away the droplets she’d dribbled on her chin. For a brief moment, he found himself staring at her chapped lips and the long dark lashes fanning high cheekbones.
Hugh tried to pull away, but she caught his hand. Rolling toward him, she held it against her cheek.
“Hide me.”
“I’ve told you. You’re safe here,” he said. “No one will hurt you. I won’t allow it.”
Lines deepened on her forehead. She wasn’t hearing him. Whatever demons had been haunting her, they were back. She rubbed her cheek against his palm and what he’d tried to ignore in the stairwell rushed back. An unexpected pang of awareness charged through him.
In the eight years since Amelia’s death, Hugh had been no saint. As a widower, he was considered fair game for those in the marriage market. Families put their daughters in his path, thinking he would marry again. They were wrong. Still, he was no monk; he was a man, and he knew where to find women when the darkest moments came. But beyond the oblivion that sex provided, his memories and guilt remained. He’d even kept an occasional mistress. But none of those women ever saw the inside of Baronsford. This house belonged to his family. Here, his memories of Amelia and their son resided. Here, he grieved.
But now, feeling her cheek against his hand, recalling the warmth of her flesh through the nightgown, Hugh felt his body responding in a way that surprised him.
“I shouldn’t have left him.”
He shouldn’t wonder whether she was married. It didn’t matter, he told himself.
Her eyes were closed, but her hold on him remained strong. Fresh tears dripped onto his hand.
