Chapter Ten
By the time the sun set, Maddie lay propped against her pillows, the glow of the fire casting a soft orange light across her chamber.
Her skin still prickled faintly from the earlier rash, but the worst of the tightness in her chest had eased.
Beside the hearth, her discarded gown hung over a chair, and a pot of cooling chamomile tea sat on the table.
It was Sebastian she had to thank for her being here at all.
He’d all but carried her up the stairs, one strong arm at her back, the other braced for any falter in her step.
And once inside her room, he hadn’t crossed the threshold but stood in the open doorway—guarding her like some determined sentry—until Ashley arrived.
Ashley swept into the room just as Sebastian was standing guard in the doorway. “I came as soon as I heard—Maddie!” Her gaze darted over Maddie, still pale and propped against the pillows.
Sebastian stepped back, giving her room, but not without one last, steady look at Maddie. “She says she’ll be all right,” he murmured, almost as if to reassure himself.
“I will,” Maddie said, though her voice was still breathless. “Thank you.”
For a moment, his eyes searched hers—warm, intent, as though he wanted to say more—but he only gave a short nod and took his leave.
The instant the door closed, Ashley turned back to Maddie, eyes wide. “What happened? I nearly tripped over the maid sobbing in the corridor. She’s convinced she nearly killed you! Did she?”
Maddie shook her head. “No, she didn’t. It was… cats.”
Ashley blinked. “Cats?”
“One tiny kitten,” Maddie clarified, pushing herself up against the pillows. “Paisley brought them in from the stables.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But I think she hid a kitten under her apron and dusted the room so I’d breathe in cat hair. Paisley put her up to it.”
The shock on Ashley’s face turned to outrage. “He what? Everyone knows you can’t be near cats!”
“I don’t think he cares about my safety,” Maddie murmured. Consider him the last person I’d ever wed!
Ashley’s jaw set. “Oh, he knows. That was deliberate.” She reached over, taking Maddie’s hand. “You poor thing. No wonder you swooned.”
Maddie managed a faint smile. “I didn’t swoon.”
“You nearly collapsed,” Ashley countered, her eyes softening. “Thank goodness Sebastian was here. And in his condition, what a hero.”
Maddie looked down at her lap, unwilling to admit just how grateful she’d been for his steady presence.
“Where are the cats now? Did he bring the little white ones? They are only two weeks old!”
“All I know is that Paisley brought them in from the stables. I didn’t even see them at first, but the moment I started feeling that—” she gestured vaguely to her chest “—it all made sense.”
Ashley’s lips thinned. “What a bore with a title.”
Maddie gave a small, wry smile. “Apparently.”
“Oh, he’s no good, Maddie. When will you realize that you can do better?” Ashley said darkly. “You’d best steer clear of him entirely.”
Maddie didn’t disagree. Still, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the image of Sebastian—standing watch in her doorway, ready to chase away anyone who dared come near.
*
After Sebastian had seen the kitten safely returned to its mother—no small feat with Paisley lurking about—he found himself in need of a drink. Something strong. Anything but another cup of herbal tea.
Somewhere between fending off Paisley’s petty cruelty, the ever-approaching wedding, and Maddie’s breathless, pale-faced episode in the corridor, he’d clean forgotten about his own wretched cold.
If he could forget the weight in his chest in favor of watching over her… perhaps he was recovering after all. Or perhaps she’d simply made him forget everything else.
“Are you going to make one?” The old butler who’d served Thomas’s grandfather and now Thomas—who’d known Sebastian since he was a lad—had that extant twinkle in his light blue eyes. The butler was a dear man and the fuss over the hasty wedding wore him out.
“I was going to the kitchen to whip up a batch, yes.” Sebastian winked with one eye and the butler had understood. “Will you let the earl know?”
“Certainly, milord,” the butler said with a smirk.
The title always sounded respectful, except when it came from him.
Eh, Sebastian shrugged, the old man had known him for so long.
There wasn’t a tale of his boyhood that didn’t have one version or another of McGulligan, the butler, carrying him and Thomas back to bed—usually bringing them back from the brewery.
When the milkmaids joined the stableboy to taste a new concoction that Thomas had invented, the nights got a bit wild.
Sebastian tiptoed quietly through the silent halls of the castle, making his way to the kitchen.
He didn’t want anyone to know he was sneaking down to cook himself a nightcap; he’d only share it later with Thomas.
He’d leave a cup in the cabinet behind the cheese for McGulligan. He knew where to find it.
Once he arrived and greeted the cook on her way out, he went to work, gathering the usual kitchen utensils he needed.
“Whipping up a flip, milord?” she said with a smile. She, too, had known Sebastian since he was a boy. “Shall I set aside some strong coffee in the mornin’?” she teased. When he was fourteen, there’d been this one time when the egg-flip hadn’t agreed with him… oh well, that was a long time ago.
“I’m three-and-twenty, Mrs. Thatcher.”
“All grown up, milord, I know.” Her tone was wistful. This wasn’t his castle, and Sebastian didn’t need to be the head of household here. The staff were his friends, to the extent propriety allowed—and a little beyond.
He grabbed a pewter tankard for the beer, and a long-handled egg-spoon to stir in the eggs, sugar, and nutmeg. He carefully cracked the eggs into a bowl and added a spoonful of sugar and a pinch of nutmeg, then beat them together until they were light and frothy.
Next, he poured a quart of ale into a large iron pot and then added the egg mixture to the ale as it heated up over the open flame of the fire.
Using a long-handled iron poker, he stirred the mixture vigorously, careful not to let it boil.
As it warmed, the egg-flip thickened and became smooth and creamy.
By the time he was finished, the staff had dispersed to other parts of the house.
The servants turned in early at Fort Balmore.
Sebastian enjoyed the silence in the kitchen. Only the metal of the poker rubbing against the pot disturbed the light crackling of the fire as the sweet aroma of nutmeg and sugar filled the air with an enticing scent.
“Smells malty.” A voice came from behind Sebastian just when he poured the frothy treat into three cups. “Who’s this for?” Maddie sneaked up on him.
Sebastian’s surprised gaze flew to Maddie. In the kitchen. “This is not a place for a lady.”
“Says who?”
Well, what could he say to that? “Can I help you with something?” Sebastian asked as he took a fourth cup from the shelf and poured a ladleful into it.
“I’ve come for some hot milk. It helps me to sleep,” she said, her eyes surveying the used utensils in the copper pan. The cook would have them washed in the morning.
“Why didn’t you tell me that cats make you sick?” Sebastian spoke to Maddie in that newfound tone, full of promise. What, he didn’t know yet. Friendship? Maybe more.
“I love animals. They don’t make me sick.”
“But you cannot be around them?”
She shook her head. “That’s why I carry a small apothecary with me when I travel.”
“The vials and essential oils you showed me?”
“Yes, they help me breathe when everything—” she showed a clenching motion around her chest and throat, “—when something is in the air and I cannot breathe, there’s usually a smell that opens up my chest again.”
Sebastian felt terrible for her. After only a few days with a head cold and stuffy nose, he’d been miserable enough.
“When does it happen?”
“In the spring and summer, all the time. Around animals, especially the sweetest and fluffiest ones.” She wrung her fingers. “Sometimes at the library and always in the attic.”
Poor dear. Something in the air made her ill. “That’s why you like the winter?”
“Oh yes.” She inhaled deeply, and her mein brightened.
She was beautiful and Sebastian’s heart leapt.
The more he got to know her, the closer he wanted her.
The more he wanted to know. “When the rainy period starts in late October, I blossom.” Suddenly, she bit her lip and blushed. “I mean, not blossom, but… ahem…”
“I know what you mean,” Sebastian said with a smile. So she was thinking along the same lines as him? Interesting. “Continue.”
“Well, when the rain comes, the cold, and even the snow, I can finally breathe. The kind of breaths that let all the life into my chest.” She inhaled and her breasts rose. Sebastian tried very hard not to stare. He probably failed miserably.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier today?”
“You were so upset and when you were feverish, I tried… but most people don’t like the winter and think me odd.”
“But it’s your favorite season.”
“Yes.” She looked around.
“Pardon me, where were my manners? Please join me, Maddie.” Sebastian said as he pulled a stool over for her to sit and handed her the cup. “This works better than milk and honey.”
“Why is mine only half-full?” Maddie stretched her neck to compare the cups. She was adorable.
“Because you are a lady.” Sebastian blew on the cozy drink in his cup. It had formed the thin layer of skin on top, just the way he liked it.
Maddie cradled the cup in both hands and inhaled deeply.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and Sebastian felt his stomach do that thing again.
It would have been unsettling if Maddie hadn’t had such a satisfied smile.
In the orange glow of the kitchen fire, the little curls hanging from the side of her head were almost golden.
He wished to wrap one around his finger… stop it!