Page 57 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
The rest of the day’s journey was mostly uneventful. The Denford coach drew up outside the Fitzgerald Arms in the early evening. Unfortunately for Piers, his hopes for him and Maggie to share a rustic supper ended not long after they arrived.
As soon as they reached the top of the stairs which led to the tavern’s guest rooms, she drew him aside. “I am going to go to bed to try and get some sleep. I’m exhausted, and I suspect I might be coming down with a cold.” She was pale and drawn.
“I expect standing out in the garden in your nightgown probably has something to do with you feeling unwell. How about you get into bed, and I will arrange for a bowl of soup to be brought up to you? A good night’s sleep is probably what you need,” he replied.
“That sounds like a perfect plan. I’m sorry I am not being sociable tonight, but I’m wrung out. It hurts to swallow and that is never a good sign.”
While Maggie took her bag and got herself set up in her room, Piers went back downstairs and had a word with the innkeeper. A short time later, he knocked on Maggie’s door. When she opened it, his happy pride at bringing her a tray of hot soup and bread vanished.
She was wrapped up in a blanket, her arms hugging her trembling body. “I am definitely coming down with something.”
After closing the door, Piers placed the tray on a nearby small table. He drew Maggie into the warmth of his embrace, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “You need to be in bed.”
Her gaze fell on the steaming bowl of soup. “But you went to all that effort to go and get me soup.”
“And soup you shall have. Go on. Climb in under the blankets. I will bring the soup to you.”
She gave him a quizzical look but did as he instructed. As soon as Maggie was seated in bed, the blankets all tucked up around her, Piers lifted the table and brought it over, setting it down beside the bed. After making himself comfortable on the edge of the mattress, he picked up the spoon and dipped it into the soup. Maggie shuffled a little closer as Piers turned and moved the spoon toward her mouth.
“Are you really going to feed me like a small child?” she asked.
He grinned. “Yes, I am. You are poorly and must be taken care of properly.”
She sipped the soup, nodding her approval. “That is good. I need something hot to ward off the chills. Another please, Piers.”
I like it when you say my name like that.
For the next short while, they settled into a quiet ritual of Piers scooping up chicken soup and Maggie drinking it down. When he scraped the last spoonful from the bottom of the bowl, she sat back in the bed and sighed. “That was delicious.”
“Did you want some more? I could go downstairs and fetch you another bowl,” he replied.
She waved his offer away. “Thank you, but no. My belly is comfortably full, and I want to try and get some sleep. Besides, you should go and eat.”
Piers shook his head. “Perhaps later. I am more concerned with you at the moment. If it’s alright with you, I might just sit over by the fire for a little while.”
He was worried. Maggie was unwell, but the specter of her dream-walking also lurked in the back of his mind despite the sleeping draught she’d decided to take. The Fitzgerald Arms didn’t have many patrons in the tavern, and he and Maggie were the only travelers lodging tonight, but Piers was still anxious as to what might happen if Maggie did happen to wander from her room.
“I don’t want you going hungry,” she said.
If she is worried about me, she won’t sleep.“How is this for a compromise? I will take the tray and empty bowl back to the kitchen. While I am there, I shall ask them to make me up a plate of leftovers. I will bring that back here and eat my supper by the fire. You can go to sleep knowing that I have been fed and watered.”
Her timid smile was all the answer he needed. Piers leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Maggie’s forehead. The poor girl was burning with fever. “I shall arrange for a maid to bring up a fresh jug of water and some clean flannels so you can cool your face.”
“Thank you. That would be lovely. You do spoil me, Piers Denford.”
Their gazes met. Maggie’s clear blue eyes lacked their usual shine. He brushed his hand on her warm cheek. “A woman such as you, Maggie, deserves to be spoiled. In fact, you should be worshiped.”
He picked up the tray and headed for the door. “I will be back shortly.”
As he made his way down the narrow staircase a little voice whispered in Piers’s mind.
You have to find a way to be able to keep her. To be able to freely offer Maggie a life by your side.
First, he had to get Maggie to Denford Park and see her well again. Once his mind was free of worry over her health, he could start to plan his campaign to finally take on his enemies within the British Army. It was time to bring the fight to them—and win.
Only then would he be finally free and able to make Maggie his wife.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
