Isobel slowly became aware of a strange murmuring around her. It seemed faint and hazy, as though the people talking were a long way away. If only she could make out what they were saying. She wondered if it was one of ‘those’ dreams again where Dominic came to her, but this time there was no swirling mist. She took a deep breath, wincing a little at the tightening band across her chest.
Feeling more comfortable and at peace than she had been for some considerable time, she lay there for several moments, and simply enjoyed the luxurious softness of the pillow behind her, and the scent of roses from the sheets surrounding her. She was lovely and warm, something she had not felt in such a long time.
As she lay simply revelling in contentment, she slowly be
came aware of a growing sense of unease. Vague menacing shadows and strange intimidating images flickered through her mind, filling her with an increasing discomfort.
Where was she? How long had she been there? Had she really been with Dominic?
Quickly, she opened her eyes, wincing at the bright daylight that permeated the room.
“Isobel?” Dominic’s wonderfully familiar voice was husky, and so very close.
Turning her head sideways, her gaze met and held his green gaze and she smiled softly at him.
“Thank God!”
She frowned at his heartfelt sentiment, and watched as he rested his forehead briefly upon the back of her hand as if in silent prayer.
“Dominic?” she croaked, aware that her voice was hoarse, and her throat dry.
“We nearly lost you,” he whispered, his voice laden with suppressed emotion.
“Lost me?” Isobel repeated in confusion, “but I am right here!”
Dominic remained silent.
“Where am I by the way?” she asked, her gaze taking in the graceful opulence of the room around her.
“At home, where you belong,” Dominic declared, placing a tender kiss upon the back of her hand. “Havistock Hall.”
Isobel frowned as random events flitted teasingly through her mind. She couldn’t be sure whether the events she could remember had indeed happened, or were in fact something her fuddled mind had wishfully created. She glanced warily down at her plain cotton night rail.
“How long have I been at Havistock Hall?” she whispered, biting her lip warily.
“Three weeks now,” Dominic replied, his face breaking out into a smile as her eyebrows shot up incredulously. She was so beautiful that he ached to look at her.
“Three weeks?” Her voice was weak, but her beautiful blue eyes were alive with astonished wonder.
Dominic nodded, stuck for words. The memory of the last few days was too raw and painful at the moment. “Your situation was poor -” was all he could say, and allowed the conversation to lapse between them briefly.
Isobel felt her energy start to wane, and fought to stop her eyelids from drooping. “I feel so very tired, yet I cannot remember anything. Why is that?” She frowned at him in consternation.
“You have been seriously ill my darling. You have had us all worried.”
Easing onto the bed to sit beside her, he tenderly tucked an errant curl behind her ear before placing his lips there.
“I am so very glad you are going to be well,” he whispered softly, pressing a tender kiss on the soft skin of the temple. Closing his eyes for a few moments, he simply rejoiced in being able to absorb the essence of her.
“You kept giving me some foul drink,” she accused gently, lifting one tired eyelid in time to catch his slightly guilty look as she slowly shook her head.
After several moments of companionable silence, Dominic was certain she had fallen asleep again, only to jump with alarm when she spoke.
“Why am I in your room, and not in the sick room, or guest room?” Her voice held no accusation, just mild curiosity.
“We do not have a sick room here in Havistock, my dear,” he replied, pushing himself away from the bed. “The main suite is where you belong.”
“But I am a guest,” Isobel argued, silently cursing the exhaustion that once again gripped her.