Chapter Twenty-Four
Cordon crouched awkwardly on Kitty’s bed, peering out the window, darting the occasional nervous glance at his patient.
She’d seemed fine, if exhausted and sweaty, but then she’d collapsed, and he’d been unable to get her to rise.
Desperate, he’d pulled Kitty into the bed and rolled her onto her side.
“Where are you?” he whispered as he craned his neck to peer down the street in both directions for the fifth time in as many minutes.
After getting Kitty situated, he had rushed downstairs, nearly scaring Kitty’s assistant, Alyssa, out of her skin, then scrawled a quick note and sent the girl off with instructions to fetch Dr. Rysel at his office.
The man was a vampire, but he’d had hundreds of years to learn medicine.
Surely, he could apply that to humans as well.
There was a chance the doctor would refuse to risk venturing out of his home during the day, but Cordon hoped what he had written would be sufficient to express the urgency of the situation.
Cordon peeled himself away from the window and checked the folded cloth atop Kitty’s forehead.
It was still damp, but it was much warmer than it had been when he’d soaked it.
That couldn’t have been good. Her face was flushed, and she mumbled and thrashed, as if the blankets holding her down were restraints.
He touched his forehead to hers in the hope his cold skin would provide some relief. This was his fault. He’d taken her outside to ride a horse nude as part of his list.
“You will recover,” he said, as if saying the words would make the sentiment reality. He pulled back and brushed a wet lock of hair from her face. “I promise.”
If only there were a more reliable way to cool without using ice, which was difficult to procure and often melted before it was of any use.
The sound of water dripping alerted him to the fact that he was squeezing the cloth so hard, it had exhausted its remaining water onto the floor.
He rushed to the washbasin but was distracted by a pounding from the staircase.
He tossed the cloth and ran to the door, throwing it open in time for Alyssa to careen through.
“Where is Dr. Rysel?” he asked, not without irritation. Coming back emptyhanded was unacceptable. Kitty needed help. If his note had not convinced Dr. Rysel, Cordon would race across town and drag the man out of his bed.
“Not to worry,” a male voice said from the stairs. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Thank you for coming,” Cordon said, when Dr. Rysel entered the room. He was wearing his usual black tailcoat, along with a black top hat and silver breeches. He held a large, brown leather case with silver rivets in one hand and in the other clutched a cane in a tight grip.
“Of course, Lord Grayson,” he said. “Where is my patient?”
Cordon shuffled out of the way and gestured to Kitty. The physician opened his case to reveal a collection of vials and shining, silver implements. He removed a bottle filled with what looked like leaves, then handed it to Cordon. “Boil this as you would a tea. It’ll take the fever down.”
Cordon unstopped the cork and sniffed the bottle.
As he’d suspected, it smelled like willow bark, with perhaps a few other additions.
He was very familiar with all the various nostrums and medications, having had every single one of them offered to him at some point.
Leeches, bloodletting, spiritual healing, massage, as well as many other techniques that were questionably effective. He’d tried them all.
“Give it to me,” Alyssa said. “Miss Carter often has me boil fabrics downstairs.”
He handed over the bottle and took up a position behind Dr. Rysel. The man peeled back the cloth from Kitty’s forehead, felt her pulse with his hands, looked into her eyes.
“Exhaustion,” Dr. Rysel said. He gestured to the pile of dresses on the table.
“I would guess she’s been working all night for several days.
Between that and your draining of her blood, her body hasn’t had time to recover.
I’ve seen it in several patients who refuse to take my advice.
” Dr. Rysel gave Cordon a penetrating look.
“What do I do?” he asked. She was suffering, and it was his fault. If he had even stopped for a moment to consider how she was balancing running her business with assisting him, then he might have realized that she’d been working herself into an early grave.
“Remove the rest of her, ah…” The doctor gestured to Kitty and coughed. “She should not wear so much clothing in her state.”
Cordon nodded. That wouldn’t be a problem.
“Make her drink the tea when it’s ready.
Then make another cup every four hours until the fever breaks.
If it does not break by tomorrow at this time, call for me again.
” He snapped his briefcase shut. “I’ve seen this before, Lord Grayson.
You have nothing to fear. Miss Carter will be fine in a few days.
” He tapped his fingers on the handle. “However, I must ask. What is your interest in this human? Have you found your fated mate at last?”
Cordon’s stomach twisted with longing. “No.”
He’d wanted it to be true, but he’d tasted her blood several times, and the telepathic mating bond hadn’t formed. If the journal was correct, that meant she could not be his betrothed.
Dr. Rysel leaned forward and peered at Cordon for several seconds before pulling back. “I see. Neither of you is quite ready.”
Cordon gritted his teeth. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It doesn’t work that way. This is a problem you must figure out for yourself.”
With that cryptic remark, he left. A few minutes later, Alyssa entered, carrying a steaming kettle. “That was fast. What did he say?”
“Exhaustion.” Cordon took the kettle and poured a cup. He didn’t have time to figure out what his physician was trying to tell him. Making Kitty well was his priority.
Alyssa twisted the fabric of her blouse in her hands. “Can I help?”
Cordon waved a hand. “No. I will take care of her. You can close the shop.”
He lifted the cup, dipped a finger into it to confirm it wasn’t too hot, then sat on the edge of the bed and lifted Kitty’s head.
Getting her to take the entire amount was a challenge, and he had to mop up liquid from the bed several times with a cloth, but eventually, he put her head back down and considered his next challenge.
She wore a severe corduroy dress that had buttons from the neck all the way to her hips.
Removing them would take precious minutes.
There was a pair of shears on the table beside the bed.
It would be much easier to cut the garment off, although Kitty would undoubtedly be furious when she awoke.
He undid the first several buttons until the material gaped, then reached for the shears. But as he noticed them in place, he hesitated. Kitty might want to save the garment. How would a dressmaker cut it apart? He chose a different angle, closer to a seam, only to have clammy hands clasp his.
“No,” Kitty whispered.
His heart leaped into his throat. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”
Her brow was sweaty, her cheeks were still bright red, but her eyes were bright beneath her frown. “Terrible. What are you doing here?” She grasped the gaping fabric at her neck. “Why were you undressing me?”
He held her face in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose, then her forehead. “Thank God. You gave me a terrible fright.”
Her puzzled frown would have been amusing in any other scenario.
“What do you mean?” She looked around, a touch of panic entering her voice. “How did I get here?”
She tried to rise. He placed a palm on her chest.
“I came to ask you to…” he started before realizing that reviving their conflict might be a bad idea. “I visited you this evening. You were working in your shop downstairs. I followed you up here, and then you collapsed. I put you in bed and sent Alyssa for my physician.”
She frowned. “I… I don’t remember any of that. But I certainly feel terrible. My mouth tastes foul.”
He chuckled. “That would be the medicinal tea I gave you.”
“Medicine,” she said, spitting the word as if trying to get it out of her mouth.
The look of childish disgust on her face melted what was left of the tension in his body.
He hadn’t realized until that moment the extent of his fear.
In such a short time, Kitty had become the most important person in his life.
For decades, Dr. Rysel had repeated his tired refrain that Cordon needed to be open to love before he could find his betrothed.
Of course, it had taken Kitty rejecting him to realize how much he loved her.
He chuckled, then burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
The confusion in her face and voice only made it funnier. He doubled over, clutching his chest. After all the stress, Kitty couldn’t even remember anything. He’d been panicking and working himself up into a fit, and all she could say was that she hated the medicine.
“Fine, laugh, then,” she said. “It’s not like I’m lying in my sickbed or anything.”
Those words cut off his mirth and pulled him back to one of the few times he’d visited his maker during the final days before she’d left the nest. He had stood by her bed and cried while she’d insisted there’d been nothing to worry about.
And now Kitty was lying in a bed, and although she wasn’t likely to die, it was a sobering reminder of what awaited him.
Thinking about leaving her made him feel like his insides were twisting themselves into knots, so he focused on something else instead.
“Dr. Rysel said you are suffering from exhaustion. Are you in the habit of working until you collapse?”
“It was necessary. I have projects to finish. The fire destroyed work that I had to redo.”
He reached for her hand but stopped before he touched her. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m used to working hard.” She licked her lips. “My whole life, I’ve had to clean up after my parents. They’re the exact opposite of me.”
“Lazy?” he asked. “Chaotic? Homely?”
She laughed until she coughed, then shook her head.
“I mean, they don’t think about the future.
They’re always spending money they don’t have.
” She coughed into her palm, then turned her head to the side.
“It will never end. They see something they want and spend more than they have. They get someone to lend them money. They overextend themselves. I agree to pay their debt. I work too hard and collapse from exhaustion. They promise not to do it again.” She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh.
“I understand them not learning, but me?”
“Why don’t you just stop?” he asked. But as soon as he’d said it, he understood why it was impossible.
After his maker had made him promise to find his fated mate, he’d committed fifty years of his life to the task, despite constant failure.
Even after giving up, he’d still struggled to accept his failure. They were very similar in that respect.
“I wish it were that easy,” she whispered.
He smoothed her hands along his trousers. “When I accepted I was going to die, I started writing a list of things I wanted to accomplish.”
He remembered furiously scribbling in his bedroom, so angry at fate, at everything. He’d decided then he’d do everything he could to enjoy the world while he could.
Kitty chuckled. “What else is on that list, anyway?”
“A handful of activities.” He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want her to know. Perhaps because there were a mere dozen left.
He could have simply paid someone to grant him the experience of shoplifting or sneaking into a brothel, but the prospect didn’t give him the same thrill. What brought him fulfillment was watching Kitty’s reactions to each task. Her shock and pleasure heightened his own.
“Cordon?” she whispered. Her hand moved around on the bed.
He slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed. “I’m here.”
Her expression eased. “Oh. Good.” She sniffed and opened her eyes. They were cloudy again. She was unlikely to remember anything that happened while the fever had her in its grip.
So maybe he could be frank with her.
“This is my fault,” he said. “I should never have tasted your blood. Once I had, I could not resist doing it again.”
Her sightless eyes rolled in their sockets.
He clasped her hand and kissed her fingers.
“You noticed at the opera. I should have told you then, but I feared you would not accept what I am.” He inhaled the sharp smell of cherries radiating from her body.
When his fangs descended, he parted his lips and gently touched her fingers along the sharp edges, making sure not to pierce her skin.
“You… You…” She coughed. “Impossible.”
He returned her arm to the bed. “If you believe me to be monstrous, I will leave.”
She squeezed his knee. “Don’t go.”
His heart clenched, even though he knew she was only reacting out of instinct.
If he had revealed his true nature when she’d been fully conscious, she would have surely run screaming.
Few humans reacted well to learning monsters were real.
So, as much as it hurt to remain with her, knowing his existence would soon end, he could not leave.
He pressed his lips to her sweaty forehead. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”