Groggily, she turned her head slightly to see Matthew’s head down on the bed beside her, snoring softly. His big arm was thrown over her body protectively. She could not see him very well, but he appeared to be seated, his head and upper body resting on the corner of her mattress. And he was sleeping like the dead. She looked back at Adam, the apparition she still could hardly believe.
“Sir… Adam,” she rasped. “You are alive?”
It was most definitely a question. Adam’s eyes flew open, the dark orbs looking at her first with surprise and then with such joy that words could not adequately describe it.
“My lady,” he gasped. “You are alive!”
She blinked, slowly reorienting herself. She had a suspicion that she was at Aunt Livia’s home, but had no idea how she came to this bed. In fact, she remembered very little after Adam’s accident. Everything was a blur, seemingly weird and distant.
“Of course I am alive,” she whispered. “But, more importantly,youare alive. The last I saw, you had been badly injured.”
The conversation had snapped Matthew from a deep sleep. His head came up, sharply, his focus instantaneous. Such were the traits of a seasoned knight. But the moment he saw that Alixandrea was lucid, the battle-ready expression on his face washed with such astonishment that he very nearly fell off his stool. He grabbed her by both shoulders as if fearful she would slip away.
“You are awake,” he breathed, his gaze moving over every delicious feature of her face. “My God… you are actually awake.”
“Aye,” she wasn’t quite sure why he was so shocked.
“How do you feel?”
She blinked, becoming more oriented. But she felt strangely weak when she tried to move. “I… I am not sure,” she said softly. “Has something happened?”
Matthew put his hand on her forehead; she was no longer hot. He sighed heavily with relief, with gratitude. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes again, but he fought them. “You have been ill, love,” he said quietly. “Don’t you remember?”
She shook her head, but glanced down at the cold cloths still covering her body. She was reminded of how cold she was and she gingerly picked one up to inspect it.
“You were with fever,” he told her. “We had to do that to bring down your temperature.”
“I am freezing,” she whispered. “Please take them off.”
He began yanking them off of her, throwing them to the floor. The entire area around the bed was littered with wet rags in little time. Adam still stood beside the bed, dodging the wet cloths as Matthew tossed them about.
“We were worried for you, my lady,” the old man said. “We feared the worst.”
Alixandrea refocused on him, still surprised to see him. “And what of you?” she murmured. “The last I saw, you were lying in bed, gravely injured.”
Adam smiled. “I was. But it is not my time yet. So here I am, recovering, and a prickly burden to my sons.”
Alixandrea’s bronze eyes fixed on him, heavy with emotion. “Sir Adam,” she said softly. “I must say something. I am sorry if I said anything that would cause you to… well, harm yourself. It was never my intent. I only thought to.…”
Adam cut her off, his brow furrowed. “Is that what you thought?” he was mildly indignant. He looked at Matthew, standing on the other side of the bed and listening carefully to the conversation. His indignant stance left him. “That is what they all thought, my sons. They thought that I had thrown myself in front of a racing carriage. But I did not. I simply did not see the thing until it was too late.”
Alixandrea closed her eyes, tightly. A single tear popped from her left one, trailing down her temple. Matthew saw it.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asked softly, wiping the tear away with his thumb. “Why do you weep?”
She burst into tears, as much as her weakened state would allow. “I thought I’d killed him.”
Matthew was back on his knees, his hands warm and gentle on her arms, her shoulders. “Why on earth would you think that?”
She could not stop the tears. “Because he was so upset when I spoke to him about your mother. You had warned me, Matthew. You had told me he was easily upset, but I did not listen. I thought I could help him. I was afraid I’d driven him to desperation with my clumsy attempt.”
Matthew was genuinely baffled. She was so distressed that he took her carefully in his arms, holding her against his chest. She seemed so light, so weak. He pulled her closer.
“You did indeed help him,” he murmured into her damp hair. “What happened was an accident and nothing more.” He held her back so he could look into her pale face. “Is that why you ended up at the church? Did you run away because you thought you had caused his death?”
She sniffled, tears easing as she found strength in Matthew’s powerful arms. When he held her, all was right in the world again. She tried to think on what he was saying, but the more she thought, the more it did not make much sense to her.
“I do not know about a church,” she said. “I… I remember your father’s accident. I remember walking outside. I kept walking… I remember that I was upset in thinking I’d finally driven your father to kill himself. But I do not remember much more than that. What happened to me?”
