Gideon pinched his nose. “You will have to excuse me, Ben, while I see to my house guest,” he muttered as he strode away.
He heard McKay pivot and march after him, the cadence of his footsteps as regular as a metronome. When they were out of the billiard room and well out of Benedict’s earshot, Gideon stopped, turning to McKay.
“McKay. I find myself in need of someMother’s Milk. Do you have some to spare?”
McKay raised a white eyebrow but gave no other outward sign of surprise.
“I do, Your Grace. I have just replenished my supply from an apothecary on Pound Lane. May I ask if it is for yourself, Your Grace?”
“No, you may not. I only require a small amount. A thimble. Fetch it.”
McKay lifted his chin higher at the reprimand and turned on his heel with the efficiency of a Prussian to march away.
Gideon went to the guest room where he’d carried Catherine the evening before. The curtains were still drawn. Sally, a maid, was sitting by Catherine’s bedside, placing an additional blanket over her. A healthy blaze was hard at work in the hearth, putting out an uncomfortable heat. Sally was sweating, but Catherine was shivering.
She looked up as he approached.
“I think I am dying…” she croaked dramatically, “My parents were taken by the same illness.Fever.”
“I am sure you will be well. I have a cure-all which will ease your symptoms,” he muttered vaguely as he set new logs by the hearth.
“I had such… vivid dreams,” she mumbled.
“Reality might be more remarkable.”
“I dreamed that you proposed marriage...”
He scowled. “Leave us,” he ordered Sally.
When she had left the room, he moved to the bedside. Catherine’s eyes were bright with fever, and sweat coalesced on her brow. In spite of it all, she was beautiful. Her skin, though pale, was pure as alabaster. Her features perfectly arranged and proportioned. He found himself imagining her in the finery of a ball, bedecked with jewels and wearing a ballgown, where she belonged—anywhere but bunched up in his guestroom.
Though I am not sure she would need the jewels. Or the ballgown. She would shine with nothing but rags. The dress she wore last night was not much better than rags. Plain and worn.
“Let us be clear. I didnotpropose andwillnot. I claimed you. I am trapped by honor and could not leave you in that place to be beaten. I would not leave any woman, high or low born.”
“I thank you for that. I think I remember my Uncle about to strike me, but it is very hazy. Do you think you could build up the fire? I fear it has gone out. I am very cold.”
Gideon stepped aside so she could see the fire roaring. She raised her head to look but then let it fall as though the effort had usurped all of her strength.
“Then I dreamed of the proposal…” she breathed wistfully. “That part of the dream was rather pleasant.”
“You dreamed the proposal, but not the marriage. When word gets out that I abducted you from your legal guardian, there will be a scandal. Your aunt and uncle will ensure it, purely out of spite. Marriage is the only way to spike that particular cannon. But it is not my choice. Again, it is what honor demands.”
Her pupils dilated as understanding dawned. “So… I am to be your wife?”
“—In nameonly, I assure you,” he parried swiftly. “Until the threat of scandal has subsided.”
A laugh escaped her—soft, almost wondering. “That is quite like you, Aaron. Do you recall that time when you saved me from your Papa’s garden tower, and I'd insisted you had to marry me to preserve my honor—and we argued for the rest of the week.” A small, endearing snort slipped free. “I suppose you have finally run out of arguments.”
“Y-yes, of course,” Gideon blustered awkwardly, moving to the curtains and pulling them open.
Pale daylight spilled into the room.
“You will remain here until I can arrange a special marriage license—”
It was only then that he realized that Catherine was undressed. Sally must have helped her out of her clothes before putting her to bed.
He glimpsed a bare shoulder where a chemise had fallen away at one side. Her skin looked perfect and pale as milk. Chestnut tresses fell across the bare skin, soft and shiny as silk. In daylight, there was a spark in her eye, a flash of gold against the light hazel. He tore his gaze away from her, turning to look out of the window.
