Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
It was near midnight when Ronan arrived at Thalia’s aunt’s townhouse in London.
He left his horse in the stable by the side of the building, storming to the front door which he considered kicking down.
He did not do this, however, opting to knock instead…
an action which took amazing restraint on his part because he needed to be with his wife.
The door flew open a moment later and Thalia’s aunt was on the other side. She was wide-eyed and bedraggled; she had the look of a woman who had not slept in days. And most of all, she was surprised by whom she found on the other side of the door.
“Your Grace!” she cried. “What are you—”
“Where is she?” Ronan demanded, striding past her and inside. “Where is Thalia?”
“I did not think you would come.” She closed the door and hurried to him. “Truly, my letter was not meant to make you feel that you needed to—”
“Where?”
She lurched back from the sheer ferociousness of his demand. But she did not whimper, just as she did not cower, as she must have seen in his pain-filled eyes the struggle that had taken Ronan. How much this was hurting him.
“Follow me,” she said as she swept past him and made for the stairs. “She is in bed,” she continued as she started up them, Ronan following closely behind. “I hesitate to use the word sleeping, but she is likely unconscious.”
“What happened to her?” he asked. It had taken a little over three hours for Ronan to reach London, pushing his horse as hard and as fast as it would go. And for every second of that ride, his mind turned in agony as he pictured his wife; the fear that he would be too late.
“It is some sort of virus, I believe,” she explained. “It came on two days ago and—”
“Two days! Why was I not told?”
“I was told not to inform you,” her aunt explained as they reached the top of the steps and started down the hall. “Thalia seemed to think you would not wish to know.”
Ronan winced, guilt stabbing him so that he felt the urge to be sick.
That Thalia would think such a thing as that…
he might not have caused her illness, but he certainly hadn’t made it any better.
She must have assumed that he hated her, when the truth could not have been further from such a thing.
“I am here now,” he said with a grimace. “That is what matters.”
“Indeed,” her aunt nodded as she continued to lead him down the dark hallway to a closed door at its very end. “I have had the doctor visit her, of course, but I confess I am not of great wealth and those I brought to see her were not exactly—”
“I have sent for the best care,” he cut over her. “They should arrive within the hour.”
“Oh. You did?”
“Let them through as soon as they arrive,” he said as he stormed past her toward the closed door. “And give them whatever they need.” He reached the door and went to open it, only to realize something else. “Olivia? Where is she?”
“Inside.” Thalia’s aunt wore a weak smile. “The poor dear has not left her mother’s side in two days.”
Strangely, that brought a smile to Ronan’s lips. Olivia might not have been Thalia’s true daughter, but that was irrelevant. The love they felt for one another was unlike anything Ronan had ever witnessed, and he wondered if maybe, somehow, he was deserving of such a thing himself.
No. Now was not the time.
He nodded his thanks. “Please,” he said. “I would like to see her alone.”
“Of course.” Thalia’s aunt stayed back. “If you need anything, I will be right here.”
The room was dark and musty. Ronan stepped inside slowly, feeling the weight of the situation in the air so that each step he took felt as if he was walking through quicksand.
He scanned the dark room, noticing first Olivia curled up at the end of the bed, fast asleep.
Another smile reached his lips but quickly faded when he saw Thalia.
It was too dark to see her properly, but that made little difference.
He crept to the edge of the bed, stomach twisting and heart cracking to see how weak and pale she was.
Skin that was gray and sweat drenched. Cheeks that were sunken.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing was heavy, but she wore a pained looked on her face as if she was suffering through a nightmare.
Ronan buckled… knees shaking… breathing labored…
How could I have been so stupid? How could I not have seen what she meant to me… what I meant to her? I did not cause this, but it’s still my fault. If she had not left my home, none of this would have happened.
There was nothing for Ronan to do but take her hand and sit by her side. It was clammy, cold, but he held it in his lap and stroked her face as he looked down at her.
Until now, doubts had swarmed through Ronan, concerning how he felt about Thalia.
But at that moment, holding her hand, sitting close, willing her to get better, and those doubts left as if they had never been.
Ronan knew then that he more than cared for Thalia, but that he loved her like he had never loved before. And if she did not recover…
He shook his head refusing to go down that path.
She would recover from this, and when she did, he was going to do as he should have done days ago. He would forgive her. He would tell her how he felt. And then he would insist that she and Olivia move back in with him, right where they belonged.
But that was for later.
As it was, all Ronan could do was wait. He stayed seated by her side, he held her hand, and he watched her through the night. Her husband. Her protector. And hopefully, her savior.
The doctor whom Ronan had sent for arrived several hours later.
Ronan couldn’t say what he was expecting—a miracle, he supposed. Frustratingly, once the doctor inspected Thalia, he announced in somber tones that there was little he could do.
“I have no choice but to concur with the initial hypothesis,” he explained to Ronan who was still sitting by her side, holding her hand. “She seems to have caught a virus—although I cannot say which one.”
“And what good does knowing it do?” Ronan snapped. “Tell me how you mean to fix her.”
The doctor grimaced. “It is not as simple a thing as that. She has a fever,” he said carefully, noting Ronan’s glare. “And for now, all we can do is make sure that she is comfortable. Wet towels on her head. Sunlight, once the sun rises. We will have to wait for the fever to break, at which point—”
“And when will that be?”
“I cannot say.”
In a fury, Ronan dismissed the doctor. He would have liked to have kicked the man’s backside for being so useless, but he refrained from such things, as he knew there was no point.
Olivia woke shortly after the doctor left, and on sight of Ronan, she cried out joyously and threw herself at him.
“You came!” she exclaimed, holding him as if her life depended on it. “I knew you would. I knew it!”
“Of course I came,” he said, his arms wrapping around her. “I should have never let you leave.”
“It was only a holiday,” Olivia said. “Mother told me it was meant to be fun. But it isn’t fun.” She pouted. “Is she going to get better? When is she going to get better?”
“A holiday…” Ronan frowned, wondering what she meant by that.
Then he smiled, realizing that despite leaving him, Thalia hadn’t been able to tell her the truth.
She understood as well as anyone how close Ronan had grown to the little girl, and perhaps, deep down, she had wondered if she might return.
He held Olivia in his lap for the rest of the late evening, and well into the early morning.
Even once she drifted back off to sleep, he kept her there, refusing to even consider putting her to bed.
Despite the awfulness of the situation, it felt good to hold her close, her mother beside them.
A big family in ways that Ronan had never experienced before.
And all the while, he watched Thalia, who slept and sweated and groaned through the fever.
Hours passed by. The sun eventually rose, and Thalia’s aunt came in with wet towels. They were rested on Thalia’s head as the curtains were opened to allow in light. Eventually, Thalia’s aunt convinced Ronan to let go of Olivia so she could break her fast.
“Bring her right back,” he told her.
“I don’t want to go!” Olivia cried out.
“It is fine,” Ronan assured the little girl. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
He had promised to keep her safe and no matter what might happen, he would do just that. She was his to protect, now and always.
It was not long after Olivia was pulled from the room that Ronan sensed Thalia stirring. It started with a deep groan; she shifted in her bed weakly. Another groan, followed by a yawn.
Ronan’s eyes shot open, and he fell to his knees beside her. He took her hand and held it to his face, fixing his eyes on her and watched…
Slowly, so very carefully, Thalia opened her eyes. She turned her head to find Ronan kneeling beside her. He had expected surprise, confusion or even anger, but instead he received smile and a look that suggested she had expected him to be there.
“Don’t tell me you have been here all night,” she said weakly. “You must be terribly bored.”
Ronan’s brow furrowed, he thought to question how she could say such a thing. But he saw the smile on her lips, the way it reached her glassy eyes, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “I am used to spending long hours in silence. This? It was nothing.”
“Oh good,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I would hate to put you out.”
He squeezed her hand and held her eyes. “Your aunt sent for me. She said… she said you told her not to.”
“I knew she would,” Thalia sighed, still smiling. “But I felt I had to. You know how stubborn I am.”
“I do.”
“Which is why I am not so surprised to find you here,” she continued, and he could feel her squeezing his hand back. “Dare I say, I might have been a tad put out if you hadn’t been. What sort of protector would that make you?”