He reacted instantly, his long legs eating up the distance between them so he could reach her in time to catch her by the shoulders and tug her to her feet.Her cramped legs protested instantly and a tiny mew of pain escaped her clamped jaw.
“Sweet muse, where are you going?”the baronet cried.
She saw Hal’s gaze narrow on the long, white fingers still clinging to her right hand, and Gemma felt the imprint of those cold digits as if they were grasping her heart and squeezing without mercy.
She heaved in a breath, her legs still trembling and weak, her muscles sore and screaming, and abruptly she couldn’t bear Sir Gilbert’s touch for even an instant longer.
With a move as instinctive as shaking off a spider that has dropped from the ceiling, Gemma wrenched free of Sir Gilbert.The way she jerked swayed her even closer to Hal, who was still steadying her by the shoulders, and it was entirely impossible to avoid melting slightly into the warm strength of his large frame.
She knew it was impossible, because she tried not to.She really tried.
Meanwhile, Sir Gilbert’s eyes had narrowed, a sulky cast darkening his pale features.“I say, what the devil is going on?Unhand my muse, sirrah!”
Testing her legs to see if they would hold her, Gemma thought that they would.She stepped away from both men, feeling her breath come a little easier for the first time all day.
She knew she probably ought to get right back down on her knees to placate Sir Gilbert before he threw another of the tantrums that had sent Bess into a tizzy that morning, but Gemma found to her dismay that she absolutely could not bring herself to do it.
There was an awkward pause while both men watched Gemma to see what she would do, and she stood like a statue and did…nothing.
Into the tense silence, Hal’s deep, smooth voice dropped like stones into a pond.“I came as soon as I could, Sir Gilbert.I only hope it isn’t too late.”
The baronet struggled amidst the bedclothes until he was sitting up, scowling and red in the face.“Too late?Too late for what?”
“Too late to avoid…infection,” Hal intoned dramatically, and Gemma stared at him in dawning horror.
“Infection?”The baronet clutched his throat, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing.“Oh, I say.Good gad.An infection?”
As if on cue, a loud groaning sounded from the hallway.Lucy, having a very good time, Gemma assumed, making noises as though she were being disemboweled with a teaspoon.
“Yes,” Hal confirmed even as Gemma began to shake her head.“The young lady who brought your pillows and that last bowl of porridge—I trust you haven’t eaten any of it?!Ah, very good.But still, the illness does seem to be very catching.The cook, downstairs, is also in some distress.Nausea, they said, was the first symptom.Followed by terrible pains of the midsection and innards, as you can hear—but first, at the onset—just a touch of nausea.”
Hal paused, head cocked to one side as he considered the increasing perspiration and wide eyes of his target.Almost gently, he inquired, “And how areyoufeeling, Sir Gilbert?”
Gemma knew what he was going to say even before he gave a slight, coughing moan and clutched at his stomach.“Oh no!Nausea, you say?I…I do believe I am starting to experience some slight tinge of…oh yes, there it is again!Oh, I don’t feel at all well.Dash it, I wish I’d never stopped here.”
“I can certainly understand that,” Hal agreed, “After all, we have no doctor in Little Kissington.The nearest is several miles away, and is often out on call helping the locals and farmers, and as I’ve said, a bit the worse for drink.”
“Oh,” Sir Gilbert bleated piteously, his head lolling to one side.“Oh, what shall I do?”
Everything was happening so quickly, Gemma could hardly believe it, much less contrive a way to stop it.But here she managed to interject, “Sir Gilbert, please don’t trouble yourself, I’m sure this ‘illness’ is nothing more than a passing ague, or perhaps a touch of food poisoning!Not contagious at all!If you would just lie back and rest…”
But he was already too far gone, the spectre of illness wrapped around him like a net.“No, no!I cannot stay here!In this house of ill health!But where can I go?”
“They say,” Hal mused, eyes innocently on the ceiling, “that Bath has some of the finest physicians in the world.Not to mention the very healthful waters there.”
“Yes!”Sir Gilbert seized upon the idea at once, a fish snapping at the perfect lure.“Bath!I was on my way there, you know, to take the waters.Where is my manservant?I must get packed at once!”
Gemma wrung her hands together.“There’s no need for that!I’m certain this is all a misunderstanding?—”
“Are you implying I don’t know my own symptoms, Lady Gemma?”Sir Gilbert drew himself up to his full height in offended hauteur; the effect was somewhat marred by his still being tangled in the sheets covering his floor mattress.
Hal cleared his throat.“As it happens, I took the liberty of alerting your manservant and coachman already.Higgins is waiting in the hallway to help your lordship dress, and the coach and horses should be harnessed and ready for you in the courtyard.”
Gemma stared, her heart pounding.She could feel this opportunity slipping through her fingers faster than water from a leaky bucket, but as Hal ushered her from the room and welcomed in Higgins, the baronet’s valet, shutting the door behind them, she stood in the hallway…and started to laugh.
There may have been a tinge of hysteria to it, since Lucy rushed up to her, crying, “Oh good grief, didn’t it work?Are you all right?”
Laughter caught in her throat and almost turned into a sob, but she choked it down.As ever, there was no use crying.There would be more opportunities.There had to be.
