Page 53 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
She glanced at him. “Manachan should not be as he is—I’m convinced of that. There really is no reason he should be so. I can accept that some illness dragged him down, but he should have recovered much better than he has.” She met his eyes and her chin firmed. “IknowI can, if not completely cure him, at least make him very much better. But to do that, we have to persuade him to accept my help—and the best chance we’ll have of doing that will be over dinner tonight.
“He’ll be dragged down again, butwantingto be strong enough to come down to dinner, to interact and play the host. That’s the perfect time to dangle the prospect of greatly improved health before him. He’ll be feeling his weakness and be frustrated by it—we can use that frustration to tip the scales our way.”
The prospect she was dangling in front ofhim—of having Manachan largely restored—was too tempting, too desirable, to dismiss. “If he agrees…you can return to the Vale after dinner, and send whatever tonic you prescribe over tomorrow—”
He stopped speaking, stopped walking, because she’d halted and was shaking her head. Vehemently. Her lips had set in a mulish line.
“No.” The eyes that met his were crystalline hard. “That won’t work. If he agrees—and you’ll allow that if he does, we’ll need to strike then and there, and not let the moment lapse?”
Knowing Manachan, he had to nod.
“Well, then,” she continued. “If he agrees, what I propose is that I’ll examine him, which is a relatively simple thing, and then make up a boosting tonic immediately—something he can take tonight that will make him feel very much better in the morning. If he agrees, I need to take advantage and convince him that, yes, medicine really can make him feel better. Then, in the morning, once I gauge how well he’s responded to the boosting tonic, I’ll make up a restorative that he can take every mealtime to keep rebuilding his energies.”
Lucilla caught Thomas’s gaze and firmly stated, “So I’ll stay for dinner, and if Manachan agrees to let me treat him, I’ll stay for at least one more night.” And, if she could, she would push that to two nights. At least. What with everything that had gone on, she hadn’t had a chance to advance her cause—the Lady’s cause—with him. And if she meekly returned to the Vale, she couldn’t see how that would help, not with him remaining here and, it seemed likely, all too soon retreating to Glasgow.
She’d waited for years for him to come to her. Now that he had, she wasn’t about to let him ride away.
Let him set her back in her usual place and leave.
Her gaze locked with the gold-flecked amber of his, she could feel his resistance as an all-but-tangible force. It was alive in his eyes, in the set of his lips, in the squared masculine beauty of his jaw.
That resistance didn’t waver, but then another insight bloomed. Without shifting her gaze from his, she arched her brows. “If I understood you correctly, in order to help your clansmen with the strange problems that have cropped up on the estate, you need Manachan hale and strong once more. Strong enough to, if not retake the reins of the estate, at least exert influence over how they are managed. I want to help your uncle because that’s what I do—it’s a part of my duty just as much as helping your clan is to you. He might not be one of my people, but he is, indubitably, living under the Lady’s protection. To walk away without making every effort to help him…that’s not something I will readily do.”
She infused enough determination into that last phrase to leave him in no doubt that she would refuse to leave if he attempted to pressure her. It only remained for her to point out, “As I see it, our goals are aligned. Both of us want the same thing—Manachan well again.”
He didn’t argue; he couldn’t.
But when his capitulation came, it was no real capitulation at all. “Very well.” The words were quiet and clipped. “But the instant you’ve dealt with Manachan and Alice is able to manage on her own, I will escort you back to the Vale.”
There was little she could say to that, either. She inclined her head regally and turned to continue their perambulation back to the front door. Ultimately, him returning her to the Vale wasn’t of itself any real threat. It wasn’t the same as him leaving.
CHAPTER 9
The gathering about the dinner table was similar to that of the evening before. The same people sat in the same places. The only real change was that Manachan was, as Lucilla and Thomas had expected, even more worn down.
That, and the clear impression Lucilla received that Nigel and Nolan had decided to blame her and her presence for their father’s stubbornness in insisting on exerting himself and coming down to dinner.
The brothers were the last to arrive. On walking into the dining room and discovering Manachan already seated at the table’s head, Nigel frowned. “I’m sure, Papa, that Miss Cynster won’t be offended if you remain abed. This is too much for you.”
Manachan slowly turned his head, and, from beneath his heavy brows, studied Nigel. Although his voice had yet to regain its strength after his slow journey down the stairs, there was no mistaking the temper in his tone when he stated, “It’s not she who would be offended by the slight, but the clan, and while I have breath and strength enough left in this aging body, I won’t shy from what I know should be.”
Nigel clamped his lips shut. With a sour look at Lucilla, he took the seat to Manachan’s left.
Nolan followed, taking the chair beside Nigel’s and likewise directing a look of distinct antipathy at her.
She ignored them but seized the opening they’d given her. Under cover of the soup course being served, she leaned closer to Manachan and said, “Shortness of breath and general weakness often linger after an illness, but are usually quite easy to treat.”
Manachan’s blue eyes fixed on her face. After a moment, he murmured, “Is that so?”
She sat back to allow Ferguson to ladle game soup into her plate. When the butler moved on, she met Manachan’s eyes, which had remained on her face. “Indeed. There are several tonics that are effective in reversing the debilitation caused by an illness.”
Manachan arched his brows. “What about the debilitation that comes with age, heh? Do you have a tonic that can turn back the clock?”
Nigel was listening, of course; he snorted in disparaging agreement.
Serenely, she replied, “The effects of age cannot be reversed, but are you so very sure that age alone is the cause of your current state?”
Manachan paused in sipping his soup, his spoon suspended.
