Eli stood a little straighter. “I’m going down to see how Morgan and Ellis are doing managing the Willow and the search. Send Johnny if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll let you know what I hear from Clarion.” He left, looking more hopeful.
At dark, Rob talked Emma into withdrawing to the guest room.
“Farley says he may sleep through the night, and you are beyond exhausted. Besides,” he took his sister’s face in both hands and took on a stern expression that was only partially pretense, “you haven’t given me much opportunity to sit with him.”
A stricken expression flitted across Emma’s face and was gone.
“Do you trust me?” This time Rob’s intense expression held only sincere concern.
Emma nodded and leaned her forehead against her brother’s chest. “Thank you, Robbie. I’m glad you’re here,” she murmured. “I will try to sleep.” It took little effort.
Moments later, Rob leapt to his feet when Lucy entered the sickroom without knocking. “Emma nodded off as soon as she undressed and crawled between the covers.”
He glanced at the open door behind her, and she followed his eyes before turning to regard him with her candid stare. “It isn’t perfectly proper for me to be here, although it would give David apoplexy.” She grinned at that before catching his frown and sobering. “I thought a companion might be a comfort. Emma is just across the hall, and we will leave the door open. Who would know? I can knit quietly in the corner, and—”
“Stay.” The force of his need for her company rocked him. He breathed in her scent, vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. His body swayed toward it before he caught himself. “You’ve been in the kitchen.”
“Off and on all day.” Her gaze skittered away, and she took the seat in the far corner with more haste than he liked.
Her wisdom in putting distance between them rankled even as he breathed a prayer of thanks.You’re a gentleman, Robbie, or you pretend to be.He squelched his very ungentlemanly thoughts about Lucy Whitaker, took his place at the old man’s bedside, and tried to focus his entire attention on the steady sound of the patient breathing in and out.
It didn’t work. Every fiber of his being vibrated with an awareness of her that was both comforting and arousing. A few hours later, he sensed her leave on silent steps without turning, and a hollow feeling almost suffocated him.
He had almost gotten control when the swish of her skirts and the scent of cinnamon brought him to his feet, as eager as a schoolboy.Calm yourself, Robbie.
He took the tray of the tea she carried and put it on the bedside table while she placed fresh candles on the dresser.
“I’m going to sleep now but wake me if you need anything. Let Emma sleep.”
She meant to leave him alone. Bereft with the loss, he opened his mouth to beg her to stay, but he had no right and could conjure no honorable reason to ask it. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“Warm tea soothes.”
He took her hand before he could stop himself. “Not the tea—at least not just that. Thank you for all of this, your home, your hospitality, your care.”
He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hand and tugged her a bit closer, her mouth drawing his gaze as unerringly as her bees went to honey. When she froze under his scrutiny and her pink tongue wet her lower lip, temptation overwhelmed his sense completely. He leaned toward her, but she ducked her head, avoiding his kiss.
“It’s late, Sir Robert, and we are both under the stress of emotion,” she murmured, pulling away.
“Aye. We should talk in the morning,” he said as she turned toward the hall.
She didn’t turn back. Before he could formulate another sentence, the door clicked shut behind her. He stared at it for long moments, pulling his unruly breathing and other body parts under control. “Wise woman,” he murmured to the empty room.
She left him aching body and soul but, after two sleepless days, it proved impossible to stay awake. Rob’s unread book slipped from his lap, and he nodded off. He didn’t know how long he slept, but it was full dark when a ragged voice woke him up.
“It’s you then, Robbie? I thought Emma…”
“She’s sleeping, Da.” Rob brushed the old man’s hair back. “What can I do?”
“Water.” The word sounded so low he almost missed it but quickly poured a cup.
Old Robert winced when he slipped an arm behind him to lift him. “Head hurts.”
“Aye. You took a whack.”
“How?”
“You were driving Lucy’s pony trap. The bridge over the brook gave way.”
