Pendragon (Sherbrooke Brides 7)

She didn’t want to. His hands were around her arms, pulling her closer, then she jerked away, fell to her knees, and vomited. There was little enough in her belly, so her body shook with dry heaves. She felt as though she were jerking apart, from the inside out. She just wanted to fall over and not move, maybe for the rest of the morning, or maybe for the entire day. The thought of her mother-in-law putting an aphrodisiac in her tea made her dry-heave some more.

She was aware that Lord Kipper was holding her hair back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have another clean handkerchief,” he said. “Let me help you back to the castle.”

Meggie didn’t make it. They reached the entrance to the maze when she felt so dizzy she couldn’t stand up. She was shaking, her teeth chattering. She heard him say her name, then she didn’t hear anything at all.

Thomas was with William when he saw Lord Kipper striding toward them, Meggie in his arms. Thomas ran.

“I say, Thomas, what’s—”

Thomas had her in his own arms in just a moment, so scared he thought he’d choke on it.

“She vomited, then fell over, Thomas,” Lord Kipper said. “Put her to bed, my boy. I’ll fetch Dr. Pritchart.”

When Meggie awoke, it was to see her husband not two inches from her nose. He looked very worried. No, it was more. She saw a thick veil of anger in his eyes.

She raised her hand to his cheek. “Thomas,” she said, her voice as thin as gruel. “I’m all right.”

He took her hand in his and held it. “Just rest, Meggie. Be quiet. Don’t talk now. Damnation, what happened?”

“I nearly shook myself apart I got so sick, then I tottered beside Lord Kipper a bit, then just collapsed. I’m sorry, Thomas.”

“Dr. Pritchart will be here soon. Just hang on.”

“Thomas, I don’t want to die.”

His breathing hitched. He hated this, couldn’t bear it anymore. “You won’t die, Meggie, I swear it.” The stable lad had been so scared, he’d nearly followed Thomas into the bedchamber.

She closed her eyes against the pain. He held her hand, spoke nonsense to her until Dr. Pritchart arrived.

“Go away, my lord,” he said, and Thomas reluctantly left the White Room.

He heard voices coming from the drawing room. When he neared the open door, he heard his mother say, “What a weak-kneed chit. Just a small blow to the head and here she is whining and carrying on.”

Then Aunt Libby said, “I wonder if perhaps she wasn’t trying to flirt with Niles. Did she follow him into the maze? The foolish stable lad wouldn’t say anything, just that Lord Kipper had seen him watching her ladyship.”

Thomas said as he walked into the room, “This will stop right now. Enough from both of you.” He paused a moment, then attacked. “Mother, I think you’re the person who struck Meggie. You have yet to tell me why.”

Madeleine slowly rose to her feet, her face pale, her eyes darkening. “No, Thomas, I didn’t strike her.”

“Is she going to die, Thomas?”

“No, William,” he said, turning briefly to his half-brother, who’d just come into the room, “she isn’t going to die.”

Barnacle tottered into the dim drawing room. He had to yell over the sudden blast of thunder that made the crystals on the overhead chandelier shimmer and hit against each other. “My lord, Dr. Pritchart wants you upstairs for her ladyship. Oh dear, I do hope this doesn’t send her underground. I only just found her. She’s the perfect size to walk on my back.”

Thomas, who dearly loved the old man, wanted at that moment to shoot him. He was back in the White Room in not more than forty seconds. Meggie was sitting up, leaning

against a pillow, smiling at him. He nearly shouted he was so relieved.

Dr. Pritchart, seeing that His Lordship just might leap on his bride he was so thankful, moved to block him, saying, “I have told her to remain in bed the rest of the day. We will see tomorrow how her head feels.”

Meggie jumped when more thunder rolled overhead. Rain slashed hard against the windows. “I’m all right, Thomas. Don’t be frightened.”

But he was. After he’d shown Dr. Pritchart out, he sat beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. He pressed his face into her hair. He kissed her temple, said low and deep into her ear, “You scared every ounce of wickedness out of me. I will become more reverent than your father. He will be so impressed with me he will ask me to give one of his sermons.”

She turned her head slightly, moving very slowly, and kissed his neck. “I should like to see you in my father’s pulpit. Please don’t lose all the wickedness, Thomas. I do like it. I can’t bear this either. Don’t leave me, please don’t.”

He closed his eyes as he held her, kissed her hair, the tip of her nose, felt the softness of her through her muslin gown. “Let me get you into your nightgown.”