“Of course, I’m right,” she retorted. “You must get some rest now.”
“Will you stay with me? Please.”
She gave in, allowing him to bring her down next to him. He placed an arm about her and drew her close until her head lay on his chest. “Now I am at peace,” he told her. He kissed the top of her head.
They stayed that way for some minutes, then Garrett whispered, “I want you.”
Immediately, she felt the familiar stirring inside her. She wanted his touch and yet couldn’t give in to the temptation. It would only make it harder to leave him. But her heart argued with her mind to seize the moment. There would be no others. Soon Garrett and England would be far behind, and she would only have these memories to sustain her for the rest of her life.
She glanced up at him, and his lips moved to hers. She responded to his kiss, cradling his face in her hands. He needed no further encouragement.
“No regrets,” she whispered into his mouth.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, holding him close to her.
Some time later, when they were spent, he fell asleep.
Madeleine slipped quietly from the bed and dressed. She found Maude humming in the kitchen, the chicken plucked, boiled, and ready to be consumed.
“Oh, my lady, how is the master? Well rested now, is he?”
“He’s asleep, Maude. He’ll need broth from the chicken, too. We don’t want him to get a fever.” She hesitated a moment. “And, please, call me Madeleine. I am no lady.”
Maude sized her up shrewdly. “You’re every inch a lady, my dear. Can’t hide that. Can’t hide how taken the master is with you, either.”
Her cheeks heated with the servant’s words and she shook her head.
“Don’t be silly, my lady. My master has been most unhappy nearly all his life. Don’t think I’ll judge you simply because you’ve brought a little sunshine into his life.” She eyed Madeleine speculatively. “Does he know you’re a lady?”
Madeleine laughed, taken aback at her astuteness. “No, Maude. He thinks me a thief.”
“And he still loves you, nonetheless? I’d reckon the only thing you’ve stolen is his heart.” Maude patted Madeleine’s shoulder. “Come, dear. Let’s get the master a meal in his belly and then he can have all the sleep he wants.”
*
Garrett awoke the next morning with a parched throat and a dull ache in his leg. His head was clear, though, with none of the throbbing pain to which he had become accustomed. It was too bad, in a way, for then he could have asked Madeleine to sing to him. Her voice had a way of soothing the pains in his head. He would have enjoyed being her audience of one.
He spotted her dozing in a chair next to his bed. She’d probably been there all night. He reached over and gently took her hand, feeling its warmth. She stirred slightly but did not awaken.
He gazed at her lovingly, wanting to know every inch of her. All his anger from the previous day was spent. He still wondered how she’d come into possession of Lynnette’s necklace but she would tell him in her own time. For now, he needed to return to Stanbury as soon as possible and confront Barth. Only when he learned the truth about Lynnette could he start a new life with Madeleine.
He studied her face, glad for once she was silent. Not that he didn’t enjoy their verbal sparring. She had a quick tongue and keen mind and Garrett enjoyed their conversations immensely. Still, it seemed a luxury to look upon her beauty in the quiet morning. He looked forward to doing so every morning for the rest of their lives.
He focused on the faint scar that marred her perfect skin. The slightly jagged ridge ran along her cheekbone and he determined it must have come from a ring. Someone had backhanded her with a powerful blow to cause such a blemish to be embedded so deeply. He would kill the man that had mistreated her and not rest until he’d done so.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze and her eyelids fluttered. Despite his sore leg, he leaned up and softly kissed her sweet lips.
“Good morning, my nurse. It’s time you woke and tended your patient.”
She stretched lazily. “This good nurse needs to be up and about, my lord. Sleeping in a chair is not my idea of a comfortable night.”
“You’d rather sleep on that flea-bitten quilt in your rented hovel?”