*
Sebastian slowed hisstride as they reached her chamber door, every muscle taut with the effort of not drawing her closer still. She’d held on to his arm the entire way, her fingers light but constant, the contact igniting something warm and treacherous under his ribs.
He hated the faint rasp in her breath, the unnatural flush on her cheeks. Hated her discomfort.
And yet… he loved that she hadn’t let go.
“I should apologize,” she murmured, pausing just inside the doorway. “Bothering you while you’re unwell—”
“Bothering me?” His voice came out low, rougher than intended. “Maddie, you’ve seen me sneeze on half the household. I think we’re well past politeness.”
Her lips curved, the ghost of a smile tugging at them, and for amoment he forgot entirely about the faint ache in his own chest. Her illness mattered more than his. She mattered more than—than anything. He would carry her up every stair in the castle if it meant she could breathe easily again.
He stayed in the threshold, bracing a shoulder against the doorframe. He should leave her to rest, fetch a maid, maintain the fragile propriety they’d both been raised to protect. But the thought of turning away now, of not seeing her steady again, tightened something deep in him.
“Ring for a maid,” she said softly, as if reading his thoughts. “For propriety’s sake.”
He didn’t move. “I’ll wait.”
“Sebastian—”
“I’ll wait here,” he amended, though his gaze remained fixed on her in a way that was anything but gentlemanly. Not across the threshold, no, but close enough to see the faint rise and fall of her breath, the way the pulse fluttered in her throat. Close enough to imagine crossing those few feet and catching her face in his hands.
If anything happened to her… The notion alone was enough to put a heavy, unfamiliar weight in his chest. He could picture it too clearly—her crumpling in the corridor, Paisley standing by with his smug detachment. That man would run at the first sign of trouble, finger outstretched to assign blame. Sebastian would never—could never—understand what drove a man like Paisley to be so unfeelingly cold and sheer evil.
“Eucalyptus oil,” she muttered as she dripped something from a vial onto a handkerchief.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, turning her face away to press the handkerchief to her nose. He watched her, the fierce urge to protect her warring with the dangerous truth he’d been keeping at bay: somewhere between her lovely smile and her odd concoctions, she had slippedpast his guard entirely.
He’d thought he could keep this in hand. But standing here, watching the soft curve of her shoulders rise with each careful breath, knowing how close he’d come to losing her—even to something as small as this—he felt the last of his resistance snap.
I think I might be falling in love.
Think?
In fact, I know so.
She glanced up and caught him watching her. Neither of them looked away.
If he stepped forward, if he touched her now, there’d be no mistaking it for gentlemanly concern. But he stayed where he was, holding himself in check by sheer will. His heart had already surrendered; the rest of him was only waiting for the right moment to follow.
Chapter Ten
By the timethe sun set, Maddie lay propped against her pillows, the glow of the fire casting a soft orange light across her chamber. Her skin still prickled faintly from the earlier rash, but the worst of the tightness in her chest had eased. Beside the hearth, her discarded gown hung over a chair, and a pot of cooling chamomile tea sat on the table.
It was Sebastian she had to thank for her being here at all. He’d all but carried her up the stairs, one strong arm at her back, the other braced for any falter in her step. And once inside her room, he hadn’t crossed the threshold but stood in the open doorway—guarding her like some determined sentry—until Ashley arrived.
Ashley swept into the room just as Sebastian was standing guard in the doorway. “I came as soon as I heard—Maddie!” Her gaze darted over Maddie, still pale and propped against the pillows.
Sebastian stepped back, giving her room, but not without one last, steady look at Maddie. “She says she’ll be all right,” he murmured, almost as if to reassure himself.
“I will,” Maddie said, though her voice was still breathless. “Thank you.”
For a moment, his eyes searched hers—warm, intent, as though he wanted to say more—but he only gave a short nod and took his leave.
The instant the door closed, Ashley turned back to Maddie, eyeswide. “What happened? I nearly tripped over the maid sobbing in the corridor. She’s convinced she nearly killed you! Did she?”
Maddie shook her head. “No, she didn’t. It was… cats.”
