Page 43 of Black and Silver

“You wouldn’t dare,” Minnie said with mock horror in her eyes. In actuality, her poor, weakened heart danced and twirled at the ridiculous situation Lawrence had concocted.

“I would have to dare,” Lawrence said with a nod, not to Minnie, but to Clarence, who had been moved to one side soMinnie and Lawrence could sit together in the bed. “I would need to avoid those authorities, after all. I cannot blame your death on highwaymen this time.”

“Thistime?” Minnie raised her eyes to him, using the handkerchief to catch a few more drips from her nose.

“Yes, well, you have faked your own death before,” he said, as casual as you please. “You blamed those blasted highwaymen. Do you not remember?”

Minnie’s insides twisted with guilt. It was as if Lawrence had come to know her too well. Or as if he could read her thoughts to know what she’d had planned for the end of their journey.

It occurred to her with a start that she could not carry on with her original plan at all now. Not with Lawrence so near to her, both in terms of proximity and so near to her heart. He would suspect at once that her demise was not real, and he would come after her.

Minnie sucked in a breath, but hid her excitement by blowing her nose again. Lawrence would come after her. He would search for her, picking up every clue that she left along the way, and he would find her. Perhaps he would travel all the way to Stockholm and find her in her new life. He would inquire after a Welsh spinster with raven hair living alone in the city. He would appear on her doorstep late one evening, declaring that he had found her at last. She would feign fright at first, then invite him in for the welcome of all welcomes once he—

“I say, Minerva, are you certain you are recovering? Your face has just flushed deeply,” Lawrence said.

Minnie pursed her lips to remove every last trace of a smile, then blew her nose again, though she desperately needed a dry handkerchief.

“I can assure you, I am quite well,” she said in a stuffy, wet voice once she had schooled her expression back to neutrality.“In fact, I am feeling so much better that I believe I can fetch that tea you promised myself.”

To prove it, she squirmed over Lawrence, perhaps more than was strictly necessary, in an attempt to get out of bed.

“No, you don’t,” Lawrence said, resisting her efforts and manhandling her to keep her where she was.

The result was a short wrestling match in which she was most definitely overpowered. Lawrence rolled her to her back and pinned her against the sheets. After a few more seconds of struggle, Minnie gave up and switched to enjoying her defeat. She certainly enjoyed the sensation of Lawrence’s large, warm body pressing down on her.

“My lord,” she said, congested, “this is not the moment for such attentions.”

Lawrence seemed to realize what position they were in and how close his face was to Minnie’s. He pulled up a bit, fire and affection dancing in his eyes.

“You are quite right,” he said with a mock serious nod. “With the cannon of your sweet nose loaded the way it is, I would not wish to risk further damage to my clothing.”

He dipped down to kiss her forehead quickly, then pushed back and stood.

“I shall fetch your tea,” he said, as gravely as any parson, “and as many more handkerchiefs as are necessary.”

With a final nod, he turned and left the room.

Minnie sank back against the pillows, trying her best not to laugh. She failed miserably, though her burst of laughter set off a coughing fit that masked her true feelings.

How was it possible to be so blissfully happy when she felt so utterly awful? Her body still ached, her head felt as thick as a post, and the coughing fit left her feeling as exhausted as if she had not slept in weeks instead of doing almost nothing but sleeping for days. All the same, she could not recall a single timein her life when she felt as warm and happy as she was with Lawrence.

“This is a decidedly dangerous turn of events,” she lamented to Clarence as she burrowed back under the covers, glad for their warmth.

Clarence merely smiled back at her, as if he had known things would unfold this way all along.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Minnie in bed, periodically dozing and blowing her nose, while Lawrence made what she knew was a Herculean effort to read to her. She knew it was nearly impossible for him to make out the words, after his confession. As much as she loathed the idea of someone reading the Bible to her while she foundered with illness, she let Lawrence continue with his psalms, because he knew many of them by heart already, which helped him to make out the words.

Minnie was also grateful for the food that the woman from the village had sent along, since the parson had left little behind when he’d left for Winchester, and she doubted Lawrence could cook. It was a strong sign that she was recovering that the stew provided by the old woman tasted like heaven to her and she wanted to devour all of it.

She slept well that night on top of everything, which was a surprise and a godsend. Lawrence attempted to sleep on a pallet on the floor beside her, which he had done for the last few nights, apparently, but Minnie insisted that he share the bed with her, resorting to fussing when he refused, until he gave in.

“I will stay well to this side of the bed,” he said as they settled in for the night. “I fear what might happen if you decide to use my nightshirt as your new handkerchief.”

Minnie laughed, marveling all over again that a moment which could very well be considered a low point was, instead, turning out to be so wonderful.

In the morning, Minnie felt marginally better. She awoke before Lawrence and slipped out of bed on the opposite side from him as he continued to slumber away. It was obvious to her that he needed the rest after days of caring for her. She was able to use the chamber pot and wash a little before wrapping one of her shawls, which Lawrence had fetched for her the day before from the baggage that had been brought into the house, and creeping into the main part of the cottage.

It was a sign of how much better she was feeling that she was able to dress in one of her plainer day gowns before Lawrence woke up, and that she could tend to the fires, set the kettle to boil, and slice a few pieces of bread from the loaf someone had left on the counter so that she and Lawrence might break their fast.

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