“The devil you are.”
His voice was already thready and weak. There was not a moment to spare. Stealing herself against another rush of concern for him, she promised she would be back and then slipped into the hall. No guards were immediately about, so she made her way to the stairs and ascended them two at a time. Breathless, she reached Lily’s attic chamber.
Noting a light beneath the door, she rapped hard. Part of her wondered why Lily would already be up, but she paid the curiosity little heed.
“Who is it?” Lily called, sounding rather ragged of breath herself.
“It is Emma,” she said. “Please, I need your help. It is Hart. He’s with fever, and I fear his wound has become infected.”
The door flew open, revealing a disheveled-looking Lily, a tall, dark-haired man standing just over her shoulder in the shadows, clad in nothing more than trousers. “How bad is he?” Lily demanded, tearing Emma’s gaze and attention away from the other occupant of the chamber.
“He is not himself,” she said, “and the wound looks dreadful. I am afraid for him, Lily, but I do not know what to do.”
“We’ll send for my sister Caro,” Lily said grimly. “She will know what to do.”
* * *
“You ought to get some rest.”
Lily’s voice pierced the haze of worry surrounding Emma, jolting her from her ruminations. She had been so intent on tending to Hart that she had failed to note someone else had entered the room. He was yet again helplessly in the throes of fever, and just moments earlier, he had been sweating and muttering beneath his breath, thrashing in the covers. Each time he became agitated, she bathed his brow in cool, clean water, speaking to him in a soothing tone. Her presence seemed to calm him.
“I do not need rest,” she said, for she refused to give up her vigil at Hart’s side.
Fortunately, Hart’s sister Caro had arrived in haste at dawn, bearing all manner of healing herbs and ointments. He had been given laudanum to keep him still, and Caro had lanced the wound, thoroughly cleansing it before applying some herbal remedies she had brought with her. The worry on Hart’s sister’s face had been undeniable.
Emma had not forgotten her parting words.
The next day will tell.
“Of course you need rest,” Lily countered, stopping at her side and settling into a second chair which had been pulled beside Hart’s bed earlier when his brothers had paid a visit to his sickbed.
His hulking brother Wolf’s anguish had been clear. He had blamed himself for Hart’s infection. His other brothers had been equally concerned, their expressions chiseled in stone. It had not been the means by which she had hoped to become acquainted with his family. But by the day’s end, she had met his sister Pen and his brothers’ wives as well.
Everyone had been so kind. No one had questioned her presence, much to her relief, for she had not been certain how to explain who she was, or how she had come to be at Hart’s bedside. The closeness of the siblings was undeniable, and Emma admired their bonds. They had all come together quickly, taking turns staying at his side with her.
Emma could not tear her gaze away from the man she loved, who slept fitfully, his life in a suddenly precarious balance. “I’ll not leave him, Lily.”
“It is morning now and you have yet to sleep,” Lily said quietly, reaching for Emma’s hand.
Her words, as well as the gesture of consolation, struck Emma. “Morning?”
An entire day had passed? How had she failed to notice?
“Aye, morning. The sun has long since risen.” Lily gave her hand a squeeze. “You must be exhausted, dear.”
Dear.
How sweet Lily was.
How wonderful the Sutton clan was. Oh, they were hardened by the lives they had lived. That much was apparent. But their love for one another was fierce and strong and admirable.
She glanced to the window, realizing there was indeed light creeping around the edges. Her eyes were burning, but there would be no sleep to be had while Hart was in such a grave condition.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said. “I will sleep when he is improved.”
“Emma.” Lily’s voice was choked.
Tamping down a rush of anguish, Emma dragged her weary gaze from the window to Hart’s sister. The expression of raw agony on her countenance was undeniable. She knew what she saw reflected there was her own fears. Life was so very precarious. So delicate. So easily taken away.
“Do not say it,” she ground out.
She would not lose him. Not when she had just found him.
“He may not improve,” Lily said anyway. “It is a reality we must face. He’s in a bad way, ’art is.”
Like Hart and the rest of her siblings, Lily’s East End rearing gave itself away in moments of upset. Emma ground her jaw against another wave of fear. Hot tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to shed them, just as she refused to leave his side or acknowledge he could be…
No!She would not even think it.
“I am staying,” she insisted, voice thick with emotion, breaking on the last syllable. “I’ll not leave until he wakes.”
“You do love him, then. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”
“No, you were not wrong, Lily.” Emma’s eyes slid closed, and the action sent a lone, fat tear rolling down her cheek. She scrubbed it away with the back of her hand. “I do love your brother. I love him quite fiercely, I am afraid.”
No sense denying her feelings. She had already admitted the way she felt to Hart. And he had told her he was not the man for her, that she did not belong here in his world, in his life, in his arms. But then he had proven himself a liar.
“I don’t know how you came to find each other,” Lily said, “but I’m glad you did. I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you.”
She was too fearful to hope he returned her love. And given his current condition, wishing for such a circumstance was dreadfully selfish. Her only thoughts now were for his recovery. He would make it through this. He would not die. This, she vowed. She would tend to him day and night. She would fight for him however she must.
“Have you rested?” she asked Lily instead of addressing Hart and whether or not he cared for her as she did for him.
“A few hours.” Lily squeezed her hand again, giving her a tremulous smile. “Thank you for not mentioning what you saw to any of my brothers.”
It took Emma a moment to realize Hart’s sister was referring to the mysterious man who had been lurking in the shadows of her chamber when Emma had rushed to her door. “It is not my place,” she said simply.
“I would appreciate it if you would continue to keep it between us,” Lily said quietly.
Lily was a good friend to her, and Emma had precious few of those in the world at the moment. One of them was lying insensate before her, somewhere between the shadows of life and death.
Another swell of fear rose.
She swallowed it down. “You need not thank me, Lily. We are friends.”
“Friends.” Lily nodded, a sheen of tears glittering in her hazel gaze, her eyes so like Hart’s. “I like the sound of that. And because I’m your friend, I’ll be insisting you go and get some rest now. Hart would want that.”
She bit her lip hard, stifling a sob. “I won’t leave his side. Not until he wakes. Nothing you do or say will persuade me otherwise.”
Lily studied her, and then gave a jerky nod. “As you wish. I’ll be staying with you, then. ’Tis best to ’ave a friend at your side in times like these.”
Yes, it most assuredly was.
* * *