Page 73 of A Daring Pursuit

Noah hesitated.

“I’ll make sure Miss Wimbley does not overdo things,” Verda insisted. “Take Julius with you.”

Julius’s spine jolted straight. “But—”

“But nothing, Julius. You’ll both do as I say or I shall wake Sander. And he is most exhausted after all that combing through the woods. You know he doesn’t bear weariness all that gracefully.”

Noah draped an arm over Julius’s shoulder and guided his grumbling brother out. “Come on, Jules. We’ll pick up our vigil in the morning. I suspect Miss Wimbley will survive Verda’s and Isabelle’s ministrations.” Once in the corridor, though, exhaustion hit him hard.

Julius scowled. “We should be able to stay with her.”

Noah’s time would come, he vowed. “She needs her rest too. Verda and Isabelle will make certain all is well.”

“I suppose.”

“Isabelle was right about one thing,” Noah said. “She’s not out of the woods yet. Very little is known regarding head injuries.” Noah had heard horror stories but decided expounding on the subject would lead to unnecessary nightmares. “She shall need lots of care.”

“You think the same person who threw the dagger at me pushed Geneva over the cliff?”

“Yes.” But another inkling sludged his blood with ice.What if the man hadn’t been after Julius? What if it was Geneva he’d been after all along?

They reached Julius’s chamber in silence and in a moment of impulse, Noah hugged his brother.

“Noah?”

Noah shook his head, finding his throat too obstructed to speak. “We’ll find the bastard,” he choked out.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“You did theright thing, poppet. But you’re not a doctor yet.” Noah was quick to reassure his young cousin with a hug two mornings later, giving him full view of Geneva. The gray morning reflected her face, pale still but for red flags dotting her cheeks, which did nothing to make him feel better. Inside, he was frantic. Their patient was feverish, her body chilled.

Isabelle’s tears dampened his shoulder. “She won’t die, will she?”

Docia strolled in. “Don’t be ridiculous, Isabelle. Geneva is much too stubborn to go out with a whimper.” Her words, while tough and nonsensical, trembled, betraying her worry.

“She’s right.” Noah swallowed against the constriction in his throat then cleared it. “You’ve been here all night, darling. Go eat, then get some rest.” He sent a silent plea to his longtime nemesis.

“Come, Isabelle.” Docia steadied her voice, adopting her usual pragmatic tone, and held out a hand for Isabelle. “Let Noah stay with her. I expect he’ll expire from heartbreak otherwise.”

Isabelle stepped back and peered up at him, her face damp. “Heartbreak?” She didn’t have to sound so hopeful. “All right. I do feel somewhat faint with hunger. Where’s Julius?”

Noah pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed her face with it. “He’s with the others. They are searching for signsof the man responsible before another onslaught of rain pelts us into the sea. Go now.”

She wiped her nose and nodded. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward Docia, mouthingthank you.

“Eat, then sleep, Isabelle.”

The hour was early. Or seemed so, at least. Five, six, he wasn’t certain. A glance at the clock told him four-fifteen. He went to the basin and took a clean cloth, dipped it in cool water, and wrung it out. At the bed, he set it on the nearby table. He straightened the coverlets about Geneva then laid the back of his hand against her forehead.

She was burning up. He took the cloth and smoothed it over her cheeks, then, folding it over, pressed it against her forehead. He felt a little ill himself seeing how stark the red spots on each cheek stood out. He hurried back to the basin and hauled it to the bedside table. And with methodic intent, he went through the process of soaking another cloth with which to cool her wrists.

Minute after minute, he continued through. Time marched with Noah having no idea how long he worked. He was grateful for the lack of interruptions and stayed resolute to his mission. With each pass, he took up her clammy, chilled hand in his, squeezed lightly, then pushed on. There may have been an occasional touch of his lips.

Exhaustion fed his fear until he was afraid it would cripple him. He paused, taking a moment to just look at her. That elfin face. The dark lashes, mere shadows against the circles beneath her eyes in an otherwise stark pallor. The full lips chapped and peeling. The scratches were well on their way to healing, barely scabs now. He touched the cloth against one corner of one and prayed.

A second later, her lashes fluttered and opened. The navy hue of her eyes appeared black in the low-lit chamber. Perspiration beaded her hairline and upper lip.

“Thank God,” he breathed. Noah poured out a glass of water and lowered to the side of the bed. He brushed a few strands of tangled hair from her face. “How do you feel? Would a spot of tea sit well with you?”

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