Chapter Twenty-Nine − In the Nick of Time
Sitting in the carriage after they’d stopped to change horses at midday, Derek stared across at the doctor, whose head was resting against the backseat, his mouth slightly open, snoring loudly. He could only hope the man’s skill would save Collin’s life and justify the risk his wife had taken in going to London and bringing him back.
Turning his head, Derek shifted his gaze to his wife. She, too, was asleep after riding through the night, her head having come to rest on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his as she sighed softly. She still wore the same dress as the day before, her hair wild and unkempt, her cheeks flushed, a dirt stain on her forehead.
And still, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
Although he had never doubted her heart, her strength or her commitment, Derek had to admit that her devotion and loyalty to Collin had surprised him. He had always been certain that she would come to the aid of her family if need be…only he had not expected her to think of his family as her own quite so soon. Had it only been a few months since that fateful night at the ball? How much had changed since then?
Gazing down at her, Derek smiled, enjoying the warmth of her body against his own, a part of him wishing she were awake, afraid that if he had to wait any longer, he would lose his nerve and not tell her how he felt.
But she had to know.
Still, he could not bring himself to wake her, and so he settled down as well and closed his eyes, praying that his nephew would hold on and had not slipped away during the night.
A restless sleep claimed him, one that made him feel all the bumps and turns of the road. And yet, he enjoyed having his wife by his side, feeling her arms wrapped around his, holding on as though even in sleep she was afraid he would disappear.
“Huntington House!” the coachman called, and Derek’s eyes snapped open, noting the dimness of the late afternoon sky.
“Have we arrived?” his wife asked, brushing the sleep from her face as she sat up and stretched her tired limbs.
“It would seem so,” Derek replied after leaning out the window. Then he nudged the sleeping doctor. “Dr. Rosen, wake up!”
As the carriage drew to a halt in front of the front entrance, Derek burst through the door, quickly turning back to assist his wife and then the middle-aged doctor outside.
“This way, Dr. Rosen!” Madeline called as she sprinted up the few steps to the door and then threw it open. “Quickly!”
Although the good doctor was far from able to move quickly, he still made an admirable effort to keep up despite the red spots that came to decorate his cheeks.
As they hastened up the stairs, Derek heard footsteps approaching and lifted his head in time to see his mother step onto the landing. For a moment, his heart stopped as he searched her face.
Staring at them for but a moment, his mother sighed in relief, her shoulders slackening. “Thank goodness, ye’re back. Please, Doctor, come quickly!” Rushing back down the corridor she had come, his mother guided Dr. Rosen to Collin’s room.
Reaching for his wife’s hand, Derek looked down at her, feeling his body ache as the tension fell from him. “He’s still alive,” he whispered, seeing Madeline’s eyes fill with tears.
Nodding, she threw herself into his arms and buried her head against his shoulder. “I was so afraid he wouldn’t be. I didn’t dare think about it.” Lifting her head, she looked up at him. “Now, we can only hope that Dr. Rosen can help him.”
Derek nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered, holding her gaze. “Thank you for what you’ve done. For what you’ve risked.”
Madeline shook her head, her eyes determined. “No, do not thank me. You would have done the same. Do not deny it.”
“I do not deny it,” Derek agreed, holding her close as she tried to step away. “All I’m saying is thank you.”
Again, she shook her head, her jaw tense as she held his gaze. “I do not want it.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Searching for words, she licked her lips. “Because it means that there was a choice involved. Because it means that I could have chosen not to. Because it means that…I’m not a part of this family the way you are.” As she tried to blink back her tears, they spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “I may not be his mother, but I love him. And letting him die would have been far worse than anything that could have happened to me.” Again, she shook her head. “Don’t treat me as though I don’t belong.”
“Of course, you belong,” Derek insisted, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. “You belong with me,” he whispered, wishing he could simply tell her how he felt. However, at his words, doubt had come to his wife’s eyes as though she was not certain she could trust him. And right then and there, Derek could not bear to see her look at him like that. He needed to hold her. Feel her. Convince her that she belonged with him, not only with his family.
Grasping her chin, he pulled her into a kiss, smothering all doubts and uncertainties. Passion flared into life, and he could feel her respond with the same desperate need that fuelled him as well.
If only they could remain like this.
“We should see to Collin,” his wife stated as she stepped out of his embrace, her gaze distant, unwilling to meet his.
Derek nodded. “You’re right.” Then he escorted his wife down the corridor and to his nephew’s room, wondering about the seemingly insurmountable chasm that had suddenly opened between them. For some reason, she had taken a step back, retreated from him, and he did not know what to do about that.
As they stepped into the room, the doctor was examining Collin, who looked as pale as the day before, his breathing rapid and wheezing. Kara and Sean sat by his side, their eyes fearful, while the boy’s grandmother stood by the foot of the bed, ever watchful. “Is there somethin’ we can do?” she enquired, and Derek could see that she desperately needed something−anything−to do…to help her grandson. It was not in her to simply stand and watch.
Derek understood the feeling only too well.
As apparently did his wife.
“Yes, there is,” Dr. Rosen intoned, and for a moment, Derek thought his mother would faint with relief. “He needs to be kept warm. He needs to regain his strength. And he needs to be able to breathe.” Clapping his hands together, Dr. Rosen met their eyes one by one. “So, keep the fire going at all times. Make him comfortable and feed him chicken broth. A child who doesn’t eat does not recover. Boil some water and set it out in bowls around the room. The steam will help him breathe. Also, give him some willow bark tea, and I have a special balm to be rubbed on his chest.”
“Will you need to draw blood?” Kara asked, her eyes wide as she looked down at her small child.
Dr. Rosen shook his head. “No, I do not believe that would assist his recovery. Mark my words: the illness is now in his lungs; the situation is dire. However, if we can keep him from growing weaker and ease his breathing, he has a chance. He needs to wait it out, and he needs to be strong enough to do so.”
Derek’s mother nodded, her jaw set and determination shining in her eyes. “Let’s get to work then. Sean, go fill some buckets with water and take them to the kitchen. Then get more firewood. Kara, make certain Collin is comfortable.” Then she turned on her heel and fixed Derek and Madeline with a determined stare. “You two, go to bed. We might need ye again later, and ye’re no help to us if ye fall asleep on your feet.”
As his mother ushered them out of the room, Derek saw Dr. Rosen pull a small jar out of his black leather bag and sit down on the side of Collin’s bed. “But we−”
“Go to bed!” his mother instructed as she closed the door behind her and then followed Sean down the stairs, relieved to have something to do.
“She’s right,” Derek mumbled, knowing that the worst would be the wait. “There’s nothing we can do.” Lighting a candle on one of the wall sconces, Derek escorted his wife to her bedchamber. Then he knelt to light the fire in the hearth.
“Should we do this?” Madeline asked from behind him, concern in her voice.
Looking over his shoulder, Derek frowned. “Do what? Light a fire?”
She shrugged. “You heard what Dr. Rosen said. Collin needs to be kept warm. What if we don’t have enough−?”
“Don’t worry.” As the fire roared to life, Derek set down the candle on the side table. “There is enough for now.”
“But−?”
“We can always cut down more,” Derek insisted, knowing that the best thing for her in that moment would be a comfortable night in a warm bed. “I’ll start first thing in the morning.”
Staring at him, his wife frowned. “I would have expected you to be angry with me,” she said, a touch of a question in her voice.
Derek swallowed. “I was,” he admitted, reliving the moment he had learnt of his wife’s absence. “I was furious.”
Madeline nodded, her gaze hard as she watched him. “Because I left?” she asked. “Because I didn’t tell you? Because I took Arion? Because−?”
“Because of it all,” Derek interrupted, hating the anger that surged to the surface. Once again, it was easier than the fear he had felt, the fear he still felt when he remembered that moment. Why was she asking him this? It almost seemed as though she sought to pick a fight. “You were reckless to leave the way you did.”
Her teeth ground together as she held his gaze, her eyes narrowed. “And it would not have been reckless if you had gone?” she challenged, crossing her arms before her chest.
Derek sighed for although he wanted to lash out at her, put her in her place, he could see that she was baiting him. But why? What did she hope to accomplish? “You should have asked for my help,” he finally said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “You’re my wife. Collin’s my nephew.” He swallowed. “You should have asked me.”
Drawing in a long breath, Madeline held his gaze, for a second seemingly undecided. “I would have,” she said, “if you had been around. However, you were not.” Her eyes remained on him as though she hoped to catch him in a lie.
Derek frowned. “I was out helping our tenants as you well know. What is this about?” He took a step closer, searching her face. “Are you accusing me of something?”
Madeline swallowed before lifting her chin to hold his gaze. “You were helping your tenants? Is that so?”
“I was helping our tenants,” Derek corrected her. “I thought you understood. I thought after everything you had finally come to see that−”
“This is not about our tenants,” she hissed, renewed fire burning in her gaze. “This is about you making your own decisions without consulting me while at the same time you demand that very thing from me.” Shaking her head, she stared at him, the muscles in her jaw clenching. “How dare you call me reckless? You would have done the same. You admitted as much. Why is it that you get to make all the decisions while I merely need to find a way to live with them?”
Staring at her dumbfounded, Derek felt his blood boil. “I will not apologise again!” he spat. “I’ve made a mistake that forced your hand, yes, but I’ve always given you a choice,” he swallowed, remembering Townsend, “even when the thought alone nearly killed me!”
“And yet, you tell me I am not to ride out alone!” Madeline retorted, her hands on her hips now, her eyes ablaze. “I am to ask permission! Do you call that a choice?”
“Ride out all you want,” Derek shot back, his mind reeling with the thought that he was missing the root of her anger, “but not to London, and not at night.”
“So, then you’re limiting my choices?” she demanded, shaking her head at him as though he had just demanded she not set foot outside ever again.
“In this regard, yes, I would!”
“Why?”
“Because I was terrified that something would happen to you!” Derek snarled into her face. At his words, her eyes widened, and the breath caught in her throat. “Because the thought of losing you is more than I can bear!” At the end of his rope, Derek reached for her. No matter what he said she seemed to want to take it the wrong way, and so he grasped her chin and pulled her into a kiss, hoping that she would not find a way to misinterpret that.
She did not.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself closer to him, returning his kiss with a desperate fierceness that stole the breath from his lungs and made him wonder what she was hiding. “Even if…,” she began, breathless as she looked up at him. “Even if nothing else, at least we can…distract each other tonight.”
Derek frowned, noting the sadness in her eyes as well as the determined set of her jaw as her hands tightened on him.
“I do not want to be afraid tonight,” his wife continued, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “I do not want to wonder if he’ll live or die.” Again, she kissed him. “I only want to forget…at least for a few hours. Please, help me forget.”
Staring at her, seeing the desperation in her eyes, Derek did not know what to say. It was obvious that there was something that stood between them. Something that had not been there before. Something she was accusing him of. And yet, he also knew that right here right now was neither the time nor place to clear the air…if it could be cleared.
Lowering his head, Derek gently brushed his fingers over her cheek. Then he claimed her lips, holding her tight, promising himself that he would not walk away from this. She might not be ready to hear how he felt about her…at least not tonight; however, Derek would not settle for less. He loved her, and he wanted her to love him back; and he would not allow her to distract him for long. He was well past the point where he would be satisfied with her willingness to share his bed. Passion and desire warmed his blood, and yet, they could not hold a candle to love.
And he loved her.
Of that, he was certain.