Chapter 23 #2
“First my father and now his degenerate of a son, eh?” Cynicism laced his voice.
He did not wish to consider what Lord Ravensdale’s response would be.
Garrett would focus all his energy on Natalie’s recovery.
“Where is that damned doctor? Did they have to travel all the way to London, for God’s sake? ”
Marcus dropped into the nearest chair. “Mr. Hampden said the doctor lived in the village south of here. Most likely, they are delayed by the rain.” And then, exhaustion obvious in the slump of his shoulders, Marcus addressed Garrett again. “Is there anything I can do, my lord?”
The young man was anxious and weary. Perhaps the midnight journey had been a huge mistake.
No perhaps about it. If they’d waited until morning to depart, Natalie’s absence would have been discovered.
“There are empty rooms on the second floor, Marcus. Take one near my chamber and get some rest. God knows you need it.”
Marcus required no further urging. “Yes, my lord.” Pausing at the door, he turned and then added, “Please wake me if you need anything.”
Garrett dipped his chin in acquiescence.
He could not sit here doing nothing. Mrs. Hampden be damned; he needed to check on Natalie again.
It being his own chamber, he did not knock before entering, which earned him a scowl from the housekeeper.
She had removed Natalie’s torn and bloodied gown already, however, and exchanged it for a clean one.
Accustomed to Garrett’s father, the woman had good reason to be wary of his motives.
Gathering a dirtied bin of water and some soiled washcloths, she moved about the room nervously.
Garrett noticed she’d cleaned Natalie’s wound and wrapped it with a strip of muslin.
“I’ll sit with her until the doctor arrives.” His tone left no room for argument. When the woman hesitated, he added, “Leave the door open if you must. I’d appreciate some hot tea and sandwiches, and see that the new valet locates a chamber for himself, as well.”
The protective housekeeper needed something to do or else she’d hover over him incessantly. It was obvious she objected to his presence.
But he needed to be here with Natalie.
“Very well, my lord.” But she clicked her tongue in disapproval.
Garrett would not be moved.
When she finally heeded his dismissal, Garrett closed the door and dropped into the chair beside the bed.
Pale and unmoving, Natalie’s fragility called out to him.
Garrett wanted to remove his boots and lie down beside her.
He wanted to wrap her in his arms and murmur reassuring words into her ears until she came awake again.
He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.
“Come back to me,” he said instead. “Come back.”
Natalie was dreaming.
The sun shone brightly in a brilliant blue sky.
Dark-haired little boys scurried about in a meadow, tumbling and rolling on soft, thick grass with a man—with their father.
Laughing, they climbed on the man and demanded pony rides.
The exuberant bundle consisted of wiry little bodies, unruly hair, and familiar black eyes.
When the smallest child looked at her and smiled, a slight dimple appeared near the corner of his mouth.
In between their play, they called her “Mama.” She sat stringing together a chain of daisies, feeling perfectly content. And then she wanted to be closer to the man and her children.
She tried to join in their games but could not move. She was trapped––in a box––with no sunlight and very little air. And pain—blinding pain. Where did the children go? She couldn’t move. She tried to break her way out but could not. She began gasping and crying. Something was crushing her.
“Shhh…it’s all right, love. I’m here. You’re safe now…
” A cool cloth pressed against her forehead.
A man’s voice spoke in soothing tones by her ear.
“Hush, sweetheart, you’re safe now.” She tried opening her eyes, but when she did so, the light caused stabbing pain.
Ah, but the man beside her was Garrett Castleton. Garrett. She must be safe.
He placed her hand upon his face. She could feel the rough texture of his beard beneath her fingers.
“Garrett,” she rasped. She moved her fingers tentatively.
She felt his face turn and hot breath upon her palm.
Moist lips dropped a tender kiss there. And then he lay her hand back upon the bedclothes.
The wet cloth dabbed at her mouth and a few drops of cool water were squeezed onto her lips. “Are you thirsty, sweetheart?” He wiped the cloth around her face. It felt soothing. But she did not feel well.
“I’m going to be ill.” She ought to be mortified but could not muster much other than the energy to warn him. Before she knew it, her body heaved, and she retched into a pot while strong hands supported her. The violent movements caused her head to pound even worse.
When it was over, she lay back and the soothing washcloth again dabbed at her mouth. Somebody else entered the room. A woman and another man. The pain in her head made it difficult to pay attention to their words. She allowed herself to be enveloped by sleep once again.