Page 80 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
The hairs on the backs of his arms lifted as the knowledge slammed into him that, in this moment, he reminded himselfof his father. Twisted up over a woman. Riddled with terror because of her. Unable to face the possibility of losing her.
Oh, dear God. This could not continue.
Emma dreamed of a warm,rumbling voice, a firm hand in hers, and gray eyes that were soft with affection. She imagined lying in a comforting embrace while a man whispered words of love.
Unfortunately, when she woke, she was alone.
She blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes, then stretched her arms over her head. Her stomach grumbled, complaining that it hadn’t been filled for some time, and she rubbed it absently.
She tried to lift herself onto her elbows, but her arms were weak, and all she managed to do was prop herself up on her pillows. She looked around the dim room. Everything was exactly where it ought to be. The chaise, the desk, and the massive portrait of some ancestor whose name she didn’t know.
There was no sign that anyone else had been here.
She sighed. It was a lovely dream, she supposed. But perhaps no more than that.
Fingers curved around the frame of the door to the hall, which was ajar, and then Daisy’s face appeared around it. Her eyes were weary with dark smudges beneath them, but she brightened as soon as she spotted Emma.
Daisy stated the obvious. “You’re awake.”
“I am,” Emma rasped, her throat dry. “Was I ill?”
She vaguely recalled being too hot and too cold all at once.
“You had a fever,” Daisy said, walking to the bedside. “I thought you’d caught your death in that godforsaken storm.”
“Oh, yes.” She remembered the storm, and rolling her ankle while out in it. Then the duke helping her back, and seeing the doctor.
Learning that Vaughan intended to leave. Their argument. Her insides clenched, and her heart sank.
Daisy exhaled long and slow. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you up.”
“How long has it been?”
“Three days since the storm,” Daisy replied. “You had us all worried.”
Was it Emma’s imagination, or were tears sparkling in Daisy’s eyes?
“Don’t do it again,” Daisy said.
Emma relaxed against the pillow. “I’ll try not to, but I make no promises.”
Daisy came closer, opening her arms as though she might hug Emma, but then she stopped, her nose wrinkling.
“Let’s not do that,” she said. “You haven’t bathed, and you’ve sweated a lot.”
Emma gasped. “Are you saying I smell?”
“Well… I’ll refrain from actually saying it, if it makes you feel better.” Daisy’s expression was mischievous. “I’ll get you a drink. You must be thirsty.”
“Yes, please.” Her mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton wool, and even swallowing was difficult.
Daisy departed and returned a moment later with a glass of water. She set it on the nightstand and helped Emma into a more upright position before guiding the glass to her lips. Emma drank, and the cool liquid both soothed and stung the inside of her mouth. Once the glass was drained, Daisy patted her lips dry with a cloth.
“Are you hungry?” Daisy asked.
“Starving,” Emma admitted. “But I don’t know how much I’ll actually be able to eat.”
Despite another rumble reminding her of how empty it was, her stomach was also unsettled. She wouldn’t be surprised if eating made her nauseous.
