Too many emotions reared themselves in her chest, like a battle that left her heart battered and bleeding. What would he do? Return her to Father and leave again?
With a tight jaw, he untucked his shirt to inspect the wound at his side. Already, the bleeding had ceased. Perhaps it had not been so deep as she had imagined.
Slipping from the rock, she moved next to him and ripped at the hem of her petticoat. “Let me.” When he made no protest, she glided her fingers around his waist, wound the fabric against the wound, and grimaced when his blood pinkened the cotton.
She wanted to ask him everything. How much he hurt. How it was that he had come to find her. Why he would be so wonderful as to risk his life for hers, when she couldn’t even belong to him.
But shedidbelong to him. She would always belong to him. She lifted her eyes to his face and understood all the exhaustion, all the injury marring his expression. “William.”Please do not leave me.
He understood, because he shook his head, just as he’d done in the garden.
Her hope sank. Her strength drained. Trembling, she lifted her hand to his cheek, but he caught her fingers before they alighted. The touch burned.Please.
Another shake of his head.
Please.
Another.
Please.
He came to his feet, wincing, and guided her back onto the trail.
No.Through a blur, she resumed watching her boots to make certain they did not slip. Every step was heavy. She clung to his hand, fisted her hem, but her knees turned to jelly against her will.
No, no, no.
Numbness coursed through her the way death chills a body. She could not go on. She could not bear anything. Not losing William. Not watching her boots. Not taking another step.
Blackness doused the sunlight. She collapsed, but he caught her in his arms and lifted her from her feet. Her head fell into his shirt. She smelled sweat and blood and the unique scent that so reminded her of the ocean’s lulling waves.
Perhaps she was there now. They were doing sunlight and feeling the seashore. Water swallowed her, warm and salty, and swirled her down into the blue depths. She didn’t breathe, but she didn’t have to.
She floated deeper and deeper. She stayed a long time. Perhaps forever, but then she heard voices. They murmured and shouted, then one was close to her face. One she recognized.
Father.
She didn’t know what he said, but she was too weak to swim back to the surface. The arms cradling her fell away. She had no anchor against the tossing waves.William, please.
Her last plea, but she knew he would not listen.
Horse hooves echoed into her consciousness just before the sea turned black.
CHAPTER 21
Where am I?The bed linens were soft and heavy, scented with comforting hints of lemon and nutmeg. Several times she awoke long enough to glance about her, but sleep—and perhaps fever—always folded her back into unconsciousness.
Licking her dry lips, she rolled over in bed and flinched when a hand swept along her forehead.
“Is she yet fevered?”
“It must have broken in the night.” Thudding noises, a loudclick.“Give her this essence of camphor and make certain she remains in bed for a week.”
“I am beholden, Doctor.”
She must have drifted asleep yet again, for the next time she rolled over and opened her eyes, the windows were black and there was but one person present instead of two.
Father.
