“Promise me you will never go fishing again,” he murmured in her hair.
He felt her laugh, the sound vibrating against his chest. “I promise. The closest I want to get to a fish is a dinner plate.”
“Good.” Thomas wrapped his arms around her.
“I still do need to find a hobby, though.” Vivian looked up at him.
“So long as you choose something less dangerous, I do not mind.” Thomas brushed her wet hair from his face, relieved that the color was returning to her skin. “I do not want anything to happen to you.”
His chest tightened at his words, and he saw her eyes soften. He felt her rest a hand against his cheek. “Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise.”
An impish grin stole across her face. “Although it was rather nice being carried into the house like some princess rescued by a gallant hero.”
“There are easier ways to get me to play the courageous knight Vivian.” He smiled at her.
She arched an eyebrow at her. “Are there?”
“You only have to ask.” He felt another shiver run through his body and frowned.
“You are still freezing.” Her eyes widened, and she tried to disentangle herself from his arms, but Thomas could not bring himself to let her go. “Thomas, let me put another log on the fire.”
“I will be fine, I swear. I do not get sick so easily.” He tried to give her a reassuring grin, but it was interrupted by a sneeze.
He felt her slip from his grasp. She threw a log onto the fire and gave him a frank look. “You will do if you keep playing the fool, and then there will be no one to rescue me when I fall into lakes.”
There will be no one to rescue me.The words pierced him, and he thought of his mother, the way she had wasted away when his father had died.You are being ridiculous.
He sneezed again. He felt a lump in his throat.
“Come on, hold me by the fire and we will warm up together.” Vivian tugged him to her.
He wrapped his arms around her. She was safe; that was what mattered. A little sneeze meant nothing.
No one to rescue me.
The prickle of unease spread through him.
Chapter Fifteen
“It really is not that bad.” Vivian tried to keep the smile from her face as Thomas glared at her.
She had thrown several logs onto the roaring fire, stoking it so high that she had felt beads of sweat trickle down her neck. Thomas was wrapped in a blanket, with a handkerchief beside him and a very red nose.
It had been several days since Thomas had rescued her from the lake, and as she had predicted, the stubborn fool had come down with a cold.
The herbal remedy that the dowager—no, Agatha—had recommended lay on the table in front of them. Vivian was fairly certain that the liquid was mostly garlic from the smell of it, but the Dowager Duchess swore by the stuff. And from what Vivian had read, she could see why its ingredients would help him.
“You drink it then.” Thomas gestured to the vial and crossed his arms over his chest.
Vivian could not help laughing. “I had not realized that being sick would turn you into a petulant child.”
“I am not being petulant.” She saw him fight to keep his mouth from quirking upwards. “I just do not want to drink Grandmama’s vile concoction. It is awful.”
Vivian arched an eyebrow at him and perched beside him, picking up the vial in her hand. “All you have to do is put it in your mouth and swallow. It will be over before you know it.”
“I am already feeling better. I could run a mile.” Thomas’s effort to flex his muscles was undermined by his cough.
“And if that is true, then I am Aphrodite brought to life.” Vivian’s every word dripped with sarcasm as she tugged the blanket more closely around him.
