Within seconds, Kitty’s light step raced up the stairway.
When she rushed to the bed, Thomas released his grip on Eliza and sat back in his chair, reluctant to give up his perch. Kitty sat on the bed and held Eliza’s hand just the way he had done.
Her frantic gaze washed over her sister. “Liza. Liza, I’m here.” She touched her face. “You’re safe now, don’t worry. What do you need?”
Eliza’s feature’s relaxed and her head slumped into the pillow, her body engulfed again by sleep.
Kitty patted her sister’s fingers and moved away from the bed. She stared, her lips thin, her eyes blinking away glistening tears.
The thrill of hearing Eliza’s voice nourished Thomas’s weary soul with a much-needed boost of hope. But such hope refused to linger when reality shuffled near. He should have let Kitty be at Eliza’s side. She needed her sister, needed to hear her voice and know that Eliza wanted her.
“I’m sorry.” Thomas stepped forward and rested his hand on her arm. “She’ll wake again. I’m sure of it. Would you like to sit by her for a while?”
Kitty looked up. Her mouth formed a small O and she exhaled. “I would indeed. Thank you.”
Thomas motioned for her to take the chair. Once seated, Kitty leaned into the bed like a cold child leans toward a fire.
He backed up, taking slow steps before turning around and heading down the stairs. There were many beneficial things about taking a break. He could eat, clean up, and maybe even sleep.
But he did none of those things.
Thomas slumped into his large upholstered chair in front of the blazing fire and wiped his hands down his face, trying to locate the source of his turmoil. It was a miracle she’d spoken, let alone survived such an attack. So why must his stomach ache and twist?
How selfish he’d been. He’d wanted to be by her side when she awoke, but of course Kitty deserved that right. However, he promised himself, he wouldn’t give up his position at her side permanently. He had a right to be there, of course, seeing as how it was his duty to see she was cared for.
Thomas pressed out of the chair and walked to the fire, resting his hands against the mantel. Why was there still such emptiness within him? Why the gnawing in his gut? He shook his head and exhaled through his nose as he accepted the root of his angst.
It was Kitty’s name Eliza had spoken.
Not his.
Chapter Eleven
Eliza stirred. The pain in her middle burned and the ache vaulted through her entire body. She needed water.
Pulling open her heavy eyelids, Eliza tried to focus on what surrounded her. A dark wood-beamed ceiling, a candle on a table near the far wall, fire crackling in a small fireplace. The smell of warm air mixed with a fresh cool breeze danced in the room around her. Heavy, comforting blankets covered everything but her arms and head.
With great effort she turned her gaze. On one side of the bed, several feet from where she lay, was a wall with a large window. Rain dripped a kindly rhythm from the slightly open pane.
She eased her head in the other direction. A male figure slumped in an uncomfortable-looking position in a chair beside the bed. His chest moved up and down with deep breaths and his eyes were closed.
What happened? Why was she in bed? Suddenly the overpowering need for water accosted her again. When she tried to speak only a frail murmur emerged.
Her lids dropped again, feeling heavy and scratching her eyes. As if from afar, a gentle voice spoke.
“Eliza?”
A large gentle hand swept across her head.
“Did you say something? What do you need?”
She couldn’t respond. It took ages to gather enough strength to raise her eyelids a second time. When her vision finally cleared, she focused on the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The familiar face hovering over her carried a worried-like smile.
An extra ounce of strength stormed through her at the realization of who stared back at her—his touch so caring and his voice so soothing.
Thomas.
She tried to smile, wanting to show her gratitude for his company, but again the extreme thirst that plagued her begged for relief.