Chapter Twenty-Eight
The drive took three of the most agonizing hours of Ian’s life.
They stopped briefly at the first town they came upon and paid the tavern owner a small ransom for hot water, soap, grappa, and bandages.
In a private dining room, Ian ripped the sleeve off her gown so he could wash and dress her wound.
When he poured the alcohol to disinfect it, Diana sobbed and called him the filthiest of obscenities.
On the road, she moved in and out of consciousness as she lay in his arms. The storm and the muddied roads stalled their progress. Finally, the carriage stopped at the bottom of a small cliff. Ian and Sunderland peered through the drizzling rain at the villa perched on top.
And the hundreds of stairs leading up to it.
Sunderland rubbed his jaw. “We should make a litter and carry her together.”
Ian shook his head. “Go ahead of us and make damn sure there’s a doctor waiting.”
It took him a quarter of an hour to scale the steps carrying Diana. By the time he reached the stone drive leading to the house, he was gasping, sweating, and at the end of his reserve.
The majordomo waiting by the door gaped at him in mild horror before beckoning him inside. “This way, signore.”
The servant led him through an atrium, filled with jasmine and lemon trees, to the open stairway, where Amelia stood.
“Thank God,” she rasped as she clasped a hand to her chest.
Ian took the stairs two at a time. “Where’s the doctor?”
A man in a rumpled suit emerged from a room off the hallway. He raised his eyebrows as Ian barreled toward him. “I imagine you’re Signore Holt?”
“Out of my way,” Ian growled.
“Ian, wait,” Amelia cautioned. “This is the doctor.”
“It’s all right.” The doctor waved them into a nearby bedroom and gestured to the bed. “Please put Miss Rives there, and then you may wait in the hallway. Miss Hunter may stay while I examine her, if you prefer.”
Ian wanted to protest. Loudly. Leaving Diana with a stranger was akin to cutting off an appendage, but Amelia tilted her head beseechingly and cajoled him into complying.
Outside in the hallway, Sunderland offered him a towel and a whisky. “All will be well now.”
Ian accepted the linen and pushed the glass away. He needed to stay alert. There was still an enemy to be vanquished to keep Diana safe. One he felt powerless against.
When his pacing had worn a hole in the terracotta floor, the doctor and Amelia finally emerged.
“The good news is that the only wound Miss Rives suffered was from the bullet that punctured her upper arm,” the doctor said. “While the bullet went through, the wound was open a long time, which caused it to fester. The infection spread to her blood.”
Ian grabbed the man by the shirt and growled, “What are you doing about it?”
“That’s quite enough!” Amelia cried.
In truth, it was more of a bellow. It caught Ian by surprise—he’d never heard the shy woman raise her voice more than a few decibels.
Even Sunderland parted his lips in mild awe.
Ian released the doctor and mumbled an apology.
“Forgiven, signore.” The doctor’s lips quirked. “I’ve been married for twenty-two years. I’d behave the same way if my wife were so ill.”
“What can I do for her?” Ian asked. He needed a task, some mission to put himself to use.
The doctor cleared his throat. “I don’t want to give her more laudanum. Her pulse is already slow. The bigger danger is the fever. We must get it down. And the fastest way to do it will be unconventional.”
“No one here gives a toss about convention,” Ian said. “As long as it’s within the bounds of the law, and it won’t harm her further, do whatever it takes.”
“A cold bath then. With seawater,” the doctor said briskly. “I’ll need the servants to draw buckets of it and ready a tub. Only a small amount of hot water to temper the rest.”
“I’ll arrange it.” Amelia rushed down the hall.
Sunderland didn’t bother to offer an excuse or commentary as he stalked behind her.
The servants worked quickly. In his manic state, Ian wondered if they were magicians who manifested the barrels of seawater out of thin air and delivered them to the bathing room.
Diana was groggy as Amelia and the maid undressed her. When they went to move her to the bathing room, Ian’s composure snapped.
“Without her consent, no one else is touching her but me,” he snarled.
He removed his shirt—he wasn’t sure how active the bathing process was going to be—and gathered Diana into his arms.
“Ian?” Her lips were hot as they pressed against his throat. “I was dreaming of you. We were together, with nothing separating us.”
“That sounds like my dreams, love.”
“Do you know how I’ve longed for your skin against mine?” She grazed a hand over his bare chest. “Why must I be so ill when this is finally happening?”
“It’s unfair,” he agreed, his voice hoarse. He couldn’t swallow her suffering.
“Where are we going?”
“Sea bathing, love. We brought the ocean to you. It’s going to be brisk. It will steal your breath, and I know how you love to be breathless with me. Are you ready?”
“Don’t go,” she pleaded.
“I’ll be right here.”
As gently as he could, he placed her in the tub.
Diana shuddered and cried out. She clung to him by digging her nails into his chest, and he was glad he’d had the forethought to preserve his only shirt.
“It’s too much,” she sobbed.
“It’s only a short while,” he soothed. “I’m right here, tesora mia. Hold my hand while I tell you one of my father’s stories about the selkies.”
Her clasp on his hand grew limp as sobs racked her body. He’d considered himself a man of a certain strength, but the entire endeavor made him feel a helplessness that was worse than any weakness he could imagine.
By the time Amelia knocked on the door to deliver warmed towels and a fresh nightgown for Diana, he was sure he’d spent years in hell.
“Would you like some help getting her dressed?” Amelia asked, adding, “I know you don’t need it—”
“Yes,” he said with a grateful nod. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”
When he drew Diana out of the bath, her shudders subsided.
“Her skin feels cooler,” Amelia said with a tight smile.
They settled Diana back into bed. The doctor returned and measured her temperature with a glass thermometer.
He turned to Ian with a cautious smile. “Better.”
Ian staggered to the chair beside the fireplace, and quietly went to pieces.
Diana knew the fever was an insidious enemy.
She was grateful she couldn’t remain conscious.
Whenever she woke, they plunged her in the frigid sea bath.
Afterward, she could only stop shuddering when Ian’s strong arms gathered her tightly to him.
She feared the infection had spread to her brain because she felt like she was flying as she searched for his heartbeat, and the warmth of his skin.
In her more lucid moments, she noted the tight lines that bracketed his mouth and forehead and hated that she’d caused him such distress.
Eventually, the persistent ache in her head subsided, and a heavy sleep came over her. When she woke again, she felt like an empty shell, but the horrible heat that had haunted her for days had fled.
Alone in the bed, she struggled to sit up.
“Diana.” Ian was by her side in an instant, his hand pressed to her forehead. “The fever broke.”
His relieved smile was brighter than the sunlight peeking through the curtains.
She wanted to return it, but her weakness made her, of all absurd things, suddenly shy.
“How do you feel?” he murmured.
“Grateful.” She managed a wan smile. “And thirsty.”
He poured her a small glass of water. “Sip slowly. I’ll get the doctor.”
“Wait.” She reached for his hand. “Stay with me a minute.”
Dark circles hung beneath his eyes but the relief in his expression made her swallow back tears.
“You found me,” she whispered. “When I needed you most.”
“I never doubted I would.”
“And no one hurt you? Everything that happened after the game is such a blur.”
He shook his head. “We can talk about it when you’ve had some rest.”
“You’re going to lecture me about going for the gun. I paid a high price for it.” She sighed. “And Widow still escaped.”
Ian drew a breath. “No, Di. She didn’t.”
He reached for the nightstand and handed her a cutout from the local newspaper. “On our way to San Genaro, we passed a fire on the road. We didn’t stop to ask what had happened; I was too concerned about getting you to a doctor.”
He smoothed his hand over her hair and pressed a kiss into her temple.
“Sunderland’s team made inquiries. They think a lightning strike hit something in the cart that caused a fire and forced a collision with the carriage.
Three women and the coach driver died. One of them was wearing Birdie’s coat and hat. ”
Diana laid back against the pillows and blinked. “One of the other women was my mother.”
She waited for sorrow and pain. The gaping, hollow feeling that engulfed her was a surprise.
As was the relief that chased it.
“There were two barrels in their wagon. It could have been gunpowder. They died because…” Her voice cut out.
Ian drew her closer. “I’m sorry, tesora. For all of their sins, they did not deserve a painful death.”
“It doesn’t feel real. Or fair.” Tears finally broke loose and cascaded down her cheeks. “I thought I was finished with Widow.”
“She was your mother, and Birdie was part of your crew. You shared a mission that was the center of your life for years.” He stroked a hand down her arm. “It would be impossible to let all of that go in an instant. And you can choose to mourn them—or not—however you want.”
As more of her tears fell, he gently wiped them away with a clean handkerchief. In her entire life, she’d never felt more privileged than she did now, for having someone hold her through the quagmire of her grief.
She sat up abruptly. “Poor Amy is dealing with all of this on her own.”
“Amelia is handling things brilliantly,” he assured her. “You can talk with her when you’re feeling better. And I should let you rest too.”
He made to move, but she clung to his hand. “Wait. Please. Now that we’re here, there are things I must tell you.”
“We have time. I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you, until you’re well again,” he added with a small growl.
“The emeralds—”
“That necklace means nothing to me. Not compared with losing you.” His voice shook uncharacteristically. “If my father’s legacy burns, if the Crown tries me for treason for letting maritime resources fall into criminal hands, so be it. It will be a small price to pay to keep you safe.”
Her eyes pricked with tears again and the gentle way he brushed them aside with his thumb made her heart soar higher. “I was going to say that the necklace is in the hidden pocket of my dress.”
When his jaw dangled open, she summoned her strength to sit up and press a kiss against it. “But it makes me happy beyond reason to know you’d light the world on fire to save me.”
He issued a low moan and kissed her with enough heat to make her wonder if the fever had returned.
Tenderly, he tucked her head to rest between the crook of his neck and his shoulder. “I vow to you, I will keep us safe from the famiglie. We will end Il Gioco.”
“Indeed we will.” She breathed in his familiar scent and sighed. “Let me tell you my plan.”