“Normally one would expect a wedding to wait after so sad an event,” Castellimonte said, “but with the child to consider, perhaps you wish to settle matters quickly.”
Jamie did not respond.
The count looked directly at Nora. “When will you marry, I wonder. Soon?”
She could not breathe.Stop behaving like a fool. This sham will not last.
“My fiancée has many things to decide, Count,” Jamie answered for her. “There has been so little time.”
“Yes, I can see that,” the man said. “When and where are big questions. If you need assistance, you need only ask. It will not do to move the child into the home of a single woman.”
Nora’s heart lurched. Jamie’s reply sounded far away, muffled by the pounding in her ears.
“Thank you,” Jamie ground out. “But no. Mother Margarita assures us such arrangements are a simple matter.”
“Perhaps. If she cannot arrange matters, I will.”
Nora thought later that perhaps his voice sounded pleasant, but his words did not. Before she could consider it, she fainted.
“Give her room!”Jamie demanded, lifting Nora in his arms. His own heart raced.
The count’s staff reacted with perfect efficiency.The blasted household runs like a well-oiled machine, one with a hundred searching eyes.
He felt those eyes on his back. He didn’t give a damn, but Nora would. His little wren weighed even less than he had guessed. He could feel the delicate bones of her shoulder against his chest and loosed his hold lest he break something.
He strode as quickly as he dared toward the small salon a servant indicated, sheltering his precious burden. The room was lit when he came through the door. Servants moved tables and opened space around a silken settee. He placed her on her back and pulled the coverlet that appeared at her feet up over her shoulders. Two footmen bowed out.
Footsteps sounded behind him. The door swished shut against the crush of people who surged forward to see, and all sound died away. He leaned over Nora. Her soft breath, barely audible, brushed his ear. He sagged against the settee in relief.
“Nora, sweeting, can you hear me?”
Her eyelids twitched but did not open.
Jamie slid Nora’s gloves off and held one hand, dainty in his huge one, gently rubbing her hand with his thumb. “Nora, come back to me,” he whispered.
Her eyes flickered open. A smile twitched at the edge of her mouth. “Sweeting?” she slurred. “Foolish man.” Her eyes fluttered shut, but faint hints of color returned to her cheeks.
Jamie caressed her hand. “Rest for a moment, Love,” he said. If endearments distracted her, he would use them.
The door swished behind him again, and another voice broke the silence. “Water. Then English tea,” commanded an imperious voice.
Jamie glanced over his shoulder. They were alone in the room except for the Count di Castellimonte. The old wolf shut the door on a departing servant.
“A physician has been summoned,” he said.
Nora gasped and pushed herself upright. “Count—” she began, turning paler.
“Easy, Nora, easy,” Jamie said. She didn’t resist when he put an arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her back down. “Give yourself a moment.” She lay quietly, but her eyes stayed open in alarm. Her breath looked too rapid for Jamie’s taste.
Castellimonte pulled a small chair up close to the settee.
“Where is your so-called physician?” Jamie snapped.
“Coming,” the old man said. He grasped Jamie’s shoulder for a moment. From any other man Jamie would have found it reassuring.What is the old wolf playing at?
Nora blinked up at the count. “I’m sorry. This isn’t like me,” she said.
“No, it is not,” Castellimonte replied. “That causes concern. You usually have courage.”
