Theodora smoothed her hand over the girl’s forehead. She still had a fever, but Theodora thought Jane’s labored breathing was a trifle easier now. Thank heaven for Dr. Murray’s medicine. It seems to be working.
But poor Jane was still restless, kicking off the covers one minute, shivering beneath them the next. She’d become very emotional, too, growing tearful whenever Theodora wasn’t nearby.
Theodora rubbed her aching neck. Since they’d arrived at Dunskey, she hadn’t gotten more than three or four hours of sleep in a row. And considering the lack of sleep she’d gotten the night before Jane had fallen so ill, it was a wonder Theodora could stand upright. She put her hands on the small of her aching back and stretched, fighting a yawn. She’d never been so tired.
A log fell in the dying fire and drew her gaze. Sighing, she went to add a log and stir the embers back to flames before she returned to the winged chair, looking longingly at the settee as she walked past it. She’d lie down and sleep, if she thought she would awaken in time to give Jane her medicine.
Determined to stay awake, she sat in the wing-backed chair and waited for the clock to chime seven. Her head heavy with tiredness, she leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes to rest them from the light. Even the warm glow of the fire seemed too bright just now.
It seemed as if she’d just closed her eyes when Conner crept into her dreams, his deep, lilting voice tickling her ear. She frowned and shifted.
“Thea, lass.”
His voice was as seductive as hot chocolate on a snowy winter day.
“Lass, wake oop.”
Why would I want to do that? She frowned and shifted, curling deeper into the chair.
“Lass,” Conner persisted.
He’s demanding even in my dreams. Eyes tightly closed, she muttered, “Go away.”
A warm hand cupped her cheek. “I will nae.”
Her eyes flew open, and her blurry gaze locked on his face. It wasn’t a dream.
He was stooped before her, one hand on the arm of the chair, the other on her knee. “You’re aboot to fall oot of your chair.”
Chair? She blinked and looked around. Jane. Oh no, her medicine! She immediately pushed herself upright, her stiff neck protesting. “Good God, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse. What time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
“Thank you for waking me. Jane’s medicine is due.” Theodora stood, but due to her cramped position in the chair, her left leg had gone to sleep, and it gave way.
Conner caught her, sweeping her to him easily. Her chest was pressed to his, the scent of his cologne tickling her nose.
Her senses, sound asleep a moment ago, roared awake, and she stifled a moan.
He chuckled and his breath, warm against her ear, sent another shiver through her. “Lass, if you wished for a hug, you’d but to ask.” He rubbed his cheek to hers.
She loved being in his arms. He stroked her back, easing the tension in her tired muscles, and it was tempting to let him continue. If she just stayed still . . .
But Jane needed her medicine, and the doctor would arrive soon.
Disappointed, Theodora pushed free of his arms, her gaze finding the mirror over the fireplace. “Good God!” She patted her disheveled hair, strands sticking out because so many of her hairpins had fallen out while she’d slept. “I look like a pincushion!”
He captured her hands, and brushed each with a kiss. “You’d look beautiful had you nae hair, lass. You’re all big brown eyes, lashes that curl to the moon, and a mouth—” His gaze dropped to it and he groaned. “God, lass, that mouth. I wish—”
“Theodora?”
Jane! Theodora pulled free from Conner’s mesmerizing hold and hurried to the bed, pausing at the washstand to wring out a fresh cooling cloth. “Good morning! How are you feeling?”
The furrow between Jane’s eyes said it all, and Theodora placed the cloth on the girl’s brow. “That bad, is it? Fortunately, it’s time for your medicine.”
“No,” Jane croaked, making a face. “It’s so bitter!”
“Yes, but it calms your cough. Perhaps I can convince Mrs. MacAuley to make some of her famous scones. She hasn’t made any since we’ve been here, and they’d be just the thing to chase away the taste of that horrible medicine.”
Jane turned her face away. “I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t tried these scones. They’re the best I’ve ever had.” When Jane didn’t respond, Theodora leaned down to the younger girl and whispered, “You have a guest.”
Jane turned back to Theodora. “Who?”
“A gentleman.”
Jane’s gaze moved past Theodora to where Conner stood by the chair. “Mr. Douglas!”
“That’s Conner to you, lass.” Smiling, he came over to stand beside the bed. “I will nae keep you long; you’ll wish to get ready for the doctor’s visit. But I wanted to see how you are doing.”
A pleased smile flickered over Jane’s thin face. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Did you hear that, Thea? I’m kind,” he teased.
“I heard, but since Jane has a fever, we cannot hold her accountable for everything she says right now.”
Jane blinked. “I meant it!”
Theodora smiled. “Of course you did. Lie back and let me tuck these blankets in. I just heard a coach, which must be the doctor.”
Jane clutched at her blankets, tears instantly appearing in her blue eyes. “Tell him to go away. I don’t like him.”
“None of us do,” Conner said in a soothing tone. “But he knows what he’s aboot. Be guid for the worthy doctor, and dinnae take his manners to heart, and maybe—just maybe, mind you—once he’s gone, someone will come and read to you.”
“Someone?”
“He means himself,” Theodora said. “He’s just being mysterious.”
“Och, I’d be failing miserably at being mysterious were I that obvious.”
Theodora waved him away. “Go fetch the doctor.”
He winked at Jane, who went pink with pleasure, and then he headed to the door. Theodora followed, saying in a low voice once they reached the hallway, “That was well done. Hopefully she won’t take the doctor’s harshness so to heart today.”
Conner’s gaze moved over Theodora’s face. “You look tired, lass. You need to have a care. You’ll be ill, too, do you nae get some proper rest.”
It was hard not to read the softening of his expression as having more meaning than it did, but she managed. “Once Jane’s better, Alice can sit with her for a few hours at a time. But for now, she’s more comfortable with me than anyone else.”
“Bloody hell, you’re a stubborn wench.” Conner didn’t like the faint circles under Thea’s eyes, or the way she kept rubbing her neck as if it ached. It was plain to see she was exhausted. Dammit, why would she not listen to reason?
He looked past Thea to where Jane rested, her eyes closed, although her frown belied any idea she might be sleeping. “She dinnae seem to mind my visit.”
“All women enjoy a dose of flirtation.”
“You think that’s what brought Jane around?” At Thea’s nod, he said in a firm tone, “I’ll be back to watch over the lass as soon as Murray has left.”
Thea’s eyes widened. “You?”
He frowned. “Why nae me?”
“Because . . . well, you’re—” She waved her hand.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m what?”
She bit her lip. “Nothing.”
He snorted his disbelief. “I’ll be back. If ’tis propriety as worries you, I’ll leave the door open and have Alice sit ootside.”“It’s not that. It’s a lot of work. Jane sleeps a good bit, but when she’s awake she’s quite peevish, like a small child.”
“It’ll be guid practice for when I visit my nephew.”
Thea opened her mouth to voice another objection, but he placed his finger over her lips. “As much as I like to hear you speak, you’re wasting time. Just
agree and I’ll fetch the doctor.”
She captured his hand and lowered it from her lips, though she clung to his fingers for reasons she dared not explore. “Conner, I don’t mean to be ungracious. I just didn’t expect you to offer to help, that’s all.”
“Bloody hell, lass! How can you say such a thing? Have I nae been helping all along?”
“No. Most of the time, you’ve been doing the opposite—trying to stop my elopement, trying to show Lance in the worst light possible, trying to complicate matters by adding numerous chaperones, and—”
“All right, that’s true aboot your elopement, but nae this.” He took a deep breath and gently untangled his hand. “As far as your elopement goes, I’m done.”
Her eyes widened, her expression cautious. “Done?”
“Aye. I’ve given oop on winning your hand. Now I just want to make certain you dinnae ruin your life by marrying Lance. He’s a nice mon, but is nae the one for you.”
Her gaze locked on his face. “You’ve given up? Then . . . you no longer wish to mar—”
The doorbell chimed, deep and melodious, and Mrs. MacAuley’s voice could be heard raised in greeting.
Theodora’s expression closed. “The doctor.”
And just like that, the moment was gone. For now, anyway. “I’ll be back later.” With a final, lingering look, he left, but his mind raced. Is there hope? If only he could be certain.
“Ah! Just the mon I was looking for.”
Lance, who’d been standing in the library in front of a shelf of likely books, took an eager step forward, a slender tome in one hand. “I heard you come downstairs. Has the doctor left? Is there any news on Jane?”
“Jane’s with the doctor now. I just saw her though, and she seems more alert.”
“That’s something.” Lance bit his lip, his brow furrowed. “It’s been a long two days.”
“So it has.” Conner came farther into the room and cast a swift glace around. “I dinnae think I’ve been in this room since we arrived.”
“Really? This is an excellent collection of books. What do you read?”
“Mainly books of a nautical bent, which I keep on ship. Most of these”—Conner put his hand on the closest shelf—“came with the house. I’ve meant to inventory them, but haven’t had time.”
Lance patted the book he held in his hand. “This one is on Italy. I’ve always wanted to go.”
“You should do so. It’s beautiful. But for now, I’d settle for some breakfast. Come.” Conner threw his arm around the other man and turned him toward the door. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No, but I’m not hungry. I keep thinking about poor Jane.”
Conner raised his brows. “And Thea, too.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Lance sent Conner a guilty look as they walked into the hallway. “How is Theodora?”
“Tired. She’s been oop two nights and has had verrah little sleep.”
“That’s not healthy.” Lance sighed and fell into pace beside Conner. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“Sadly, there is nae—” Conner stopped. “Wait. There is one thing—but it may be too much to ask.”
“No, no,” Lance said eagerly. “What is it?”
“Do you think you could spend some time each day with our patient? Perhaps read to her? ’Twould give Thea time to rest.”
“I would love to!” As if aware his enthusiasm was a bit excessive, he slanted a self-conscious look at Conner and then added in a more measured tone, “I’ll do anything to help Theodora.”
“Of course.”
“Do you think Jane would enjoy hearing about Italy?”
“Naturally.” Conner led the way to the breakfast room, keeping up a stream of small talk. Soon he was sitting before his plate, listening to Lance talk about his desire to see all of Italy, especially Venice.
Breakfast was usually Conner’s favorite meal of the day, but while Mrs. MacAuley exceeded expectations in many areas, cooking was not one of them. Normally, Conner brought the cook from his ship to serve in Dunskey, but he hadn’t done so this time, for they’d done no entertaining. He missed Cook’s way with breakfast cakes and ham. Perhaps it was time to bring him to Dunskey.
Sighing, Conner absently took a bite of his buttered toast, and wondered if he should ask Mrs. MacAuley to make her infamous scones. Thea had mentioned them and, now that he thought about it, it was an excellent idea. Jane might be more tempted to eat if—
Wait. He stared at his toast, thoughts suddenly crowding his brain. Scones? How had Thea known . . .
He returned the toast to his plate and stood.
Lance stopped in midsentence, obviously surprised.
“I’m sorry,” Conner said curtly. “But I must see Mrs. MacAuley.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nae yet.” And with that, he left.
25
Lance stuck his head in the door. “Mind if I come in?”
Theodora looked up from the small stack of clean cloths she’d just placed on the nightstand and smiled. “Ah, there you are. I wondered if you’d changed your mind today.”
It had been a week since Jane had fallen ill, and each day, under Dr. Murray’s brusque but professional eye, she had improved. Theodora would have been exhausted caring for her, except for two things—Lance’s surprising offer to spend hours each day reading to Jane, and Conner’s deftness at running the household.
Both things had surprised her. Lance’s assistance had allowed Theodora time to rest, especially now that Jane was on the mend and was easily bored. Meanwhile, Conner’s oversight had helped the woefully short-handed Mrs. MacAuley bring the house up to livable standards. He’d pulled men from his ship and placed them into key positions in the household; Spencer often brought the lunch trays, and she’d seen MacLeish doing the laundry out behind the kitchen under Alice’s watchful eye, while a small Gallic man called “Cook,” who was much given to ranting about everything from the lack of fat chickens to the quality of the pepper gracing the larder, now made magic in the kitchen.
Other members of Conner’s crew filled out the remaining gaps, and she knew from Mrs. MacAuley that Conner kept them under tight orders.
When Theodora had attempted to thank him, he’d cut her short. He’d been abrupt lately, watching her with a dark, brooding gaze that disturbed her. Something was amiss, but she couldn’t fathom what it was. If she weren’t so tired Theodora might have pressed him on it, but even with the improvements in the house, she only had the energy to see to Jane.
“How is she today?” Lance tucked the book he carried under one arm, his gaze instantly going to Jane as he crossed the room.
Late-afternoon sunlight streamed from the windows across the huge bed. Thin from her illness, Jane seemed even tinier than usual, and she lay without moving, her eyes closed.
“She is much better,” Thea announced. “Or she will be if she will take the medicine Dr. Murray has left her.”
Jane’s brows lowered, a frown deepening on her face, which made Lance smile and say in a pretend-grave tone, “So she’s being difficult today, is she?”
Jane opened her eyes, frowning. “I hate that medicine.”
“I know.” Theodora went to smooth the blankets. “But it’s good for you, so you must take it.”
“It is wretched,” Jane said in a peevish tone. “The doctor will not listen when I say it makes me gag, and he just—” Her voice quavered as if she was about to burst into tears.
“This is unacceptable!” Lance announced. “Shall I find this doctor and throttle thim for you? Perhaps I should force him to take a dose of his own medicine, and see how he likes it.”
Jane’s lips stopped quivering, and a faint gleam of humor appeared in her eyes. “I would like that very much.”
“I shall make him take two doses, then.”
She finally smiled. “Five.”
“Five it will be. But first, I’ve been dying to know what we will find in our travels to
day.”
To Jane’s growing delight, Lance had taken to pretending they were really traveling through Italy as he read from a book he’d found in Conner’s vast library.
“Where are we going?” Jane asked, interest warming her thin voice.
He sat in the chair that waited by the bed, opened the book, and removed a slip of paper that marked a page. “I thought we would travel to ancient Milan. There’s a beautiful church there, and some paintings by the esteemed Leonardo da Vinci.” He smoothed the pages. “If you remember, yesterday saw us in the small but charming town of Pavia. Today, we have a few hours by carriage—on a fairly good road, we are told—and then we’ll be in Milan, which is quite a metropolitan area compared with our rustic travel of yesterday. Shall we begin our journey?”
Jane said eagerly, “Please do. You’ve been so kind to read to me.” Her gaze searched Lance’s face. “Are you sure you’re not bored?”
“Perish the thought! I’ve had to fight the urge to read ahead while you were sleeping. I’ve always wanted to travel.”
She sighed. “Me, too. I doubt I’ll ever see these places, but it’s fun to pretend.” She sent him a shy look under her lashes. “I can’t thank you enough. It helps the time pass.”
Lance smiled. “I wish I could take credit for the thought, but Conner suggested it.”
Jane’s flush had nothing to do with her fever. “He has been very thoughtful, too.”
Theodora wondered why that made her heart ache. He’d been so different of late, and it made her feel incomplete in some way.
She forced a smile. “I shall leave the two of you to your trip. Pray don’t get lost. I’d hate to have to send a search party into the pages of your book.”
“We never get lost,” Lance said with assurance.
Jane smiled at him shyly. “I’m not sure that would be such a bad thing. Getting lost can be an adventure, too.”
“So it could be—with the right person.”
Lance spoke in such a solemn tone that Theodora looked at him curiously. It was a pity Jane seemed to have a preference for Conner, for she was far more suited to a steadfast, cautious country squire than a devil-may-care privateer.
Caught by the Scot Page 24
