Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(73)
So, this was what it would be like to be alone—empty of laughter, lacking dancing eyes and masculine irritation, without argument or intellectual fascination, with no kisses or impromptu hugs. It did not seem possible that such a force of nature as Dare could depart without leaving an earthshattering gap in the world.
Trying very hard to be as strong as she knew she could be, Emilia stripped down to her shift and crawled in beside Dare’s lifeless body. The last part of the journey had been too much for him. Even now, the fresh bandage showed traces of blood. She tested his brow for fever and brushed her fingers over his broad chest to test his lungs. Then knowing she was already drained and weak, she applied her hand to his wound again, endured the agony, and applied what energy she had left.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, and a single fat tear fell on his chest.
Dare heard people whispering. He recognized gentle hands rubbing him with scented soap and water. He tried to thank his own personal angel of mercy but only managed a croak. He thought she kissed his rough cheek but darkness closed over him again.
The next time he felt her near, he struggled to wake. He was certain he needed to tell her something important. But the words didn’t come, and he only managed to squeeze her hand. She spoke in a low murmur that sounded both angry and sad and hopeful all at the same time. That was one of those things he loved about her. Oh right, that’s what. . .
Fighting free of the darkness another time, Dare realized the room was dark, not him. How long had he been here? A gentle pressure wrapped a warm glow around his heart, and he knew Emilia slept beside him with her hand on his chest. Amazed that he believed in the impossible miracle of her gift, he prayed she hadn’t descended into that dark place she’d gone to before. He kissed her hand and put it on the bed. He needed her alive and awake.
The next time he woke, the sun cut a diamond pattern across his covers, dogs howled below, and the walls echoed of children screeching with laughter. He was starving.
“Emilia?” he asked tentatively, working at the covers in vague hope of removing them to search for her.
“We made her go play with the twins. She was turning into a wraith in here.”
Dare didn’t recognize the voice but it was almost celestial in its mellifluous beauty. He pried his eyes open to study a slim, dark-haired woman of tawny complexion holding a sleeping infant over her shoulder.
“Good morning, my lord. I’m Celeste, Erran’s wife. We were unable to attend your wedding because of this one.” She patted the infant. “Her name is Serena Malcolm Ives, although Erran insists on calling her Siren.”
Dare was too muddled to know how to respond. His head ached. His leg hurt worse. “Erran is here?” he finally worked his tongue into asking, although all he wanted was Emilia.
“The whole family is gathered,” Celeste said cheerfully. “The marchioness could have her babe any day now. It takes an entire village to keep Ashford from tearing walls down with his bare hands.”
“Is that supposed to make sense?” Dare asked warily. “Or am I too ill to comprehend?”
“Ah, you don’t know the marquess very well,” she said, rising. “I’ll send for Emilia. Pascoe’s twins are leading her and Will’s animals a merry chase, but it is probably time for them to settle down.”
She signaled a servant, and Dare reserved his strength for Emilia’s arrival. He lay there feeling the warmth of the sun through the room’s mullioned window, the pull of air in his lungs, the beating of his pulse. He was alive. He gave thanks to whatever superior being took credit, closed his eyes, and clung to consciousness.
Even with his eyes closed, he knew the moment Emilia entered. The room filled with the scent of lavender, and the air practically vibrated with life. He held out his hand, and she placed her slender one in it. He breathed fully for the first time in recent memory.
“I’m alive,” he told her, because that seemed most important.
She laughed softly, leaned over, and kissed his bristly cheek.
“For now,” she said solemnly. “We’ll see how well you fare once you are up and surrounded by Malcolms and Ives. Your mother is rather overwhelmed, but your sisters are holding up amazingly well.”
“My mother?” Dare asked in incredulity, forgetting the next important thing he meant to say.
“Of course, she feared for your life as we all did. Your daunting family took a mail coach before we could send a carriage. Are you up to a little broth? Or are you tired of it? We’ve been spooning it down you for a week.”
He summoned the strength to open his eyes again. His beautiful wife perched on the bed near his hip. The sun caused her black hair to gleam almost blue to match her glorious thick-lashed eyes. Pink colored her cheeks and lips. “You don’t look like a wraith,” he told her.
She laughed. “Thank you, I think. You do though. We’ll set you to chasing the twins as soon as you’re well.”
“Will I be well?” he asked, testing his leg by shifting it toward her curvaceous bum.
“Your leg is healing,” she said with obvious relief. “And you’re awake again. Bridey says those are very good signs, if we keep you from any more brawls.”
In other words, the consumption hadn’t magically dissipated, but he might have years ahead, if he took care of himself. Dare brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it, then tugged her toward him. “I’m not ready to leave you just yet. Tell me what to do so I may recover to annoy you for a while longer.”