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Authors: Sara Craven

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BOOK: The Right Bride?
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‘We need some salad things.’

‘Mrs Varley can go out for any shopping!’

‘Mrs Varley has enough to do!’ Colly answered. ‘Though if you ask her nicely I’m sure she’ll make you a coffee when she has hers.’

He wasn’t having that. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he stated categorically.

‘No, you won’t!’ Colly returned swiftly. And, ignoring the thrust of his chin that she thought she could tell him what to do, ‘Mrs Varley says it’s bitterly cold out—and you’re still suffering extremes of temperature. You need to stay in the same environment.’

‘Who told you that?’ he questioned belligerently.

‘Nobody had to tell me,’ she replied, and, with a superior look, ‘It’s just something that women know. Now,’ she went on tartly, ‘is there anything I can get you while I’m out? Anything—’ She broke off, then, eyeing him fixedly. ‘Any cheques you would like me to pay into your bank?’ She refused to look away—he did not bat a guilty eyelid. ‘You
do
intend to bank that cheque I sent you, I hope?’ she challenged knowing she’d want to thump him if he dared to ask what cheque.

He did not ask. But made her cross just the same when he bluntly retorted, ‘I don’t consider I should. We made a bargain, you and I—that money was part of it.’

‘Agreed,’ she said, purely because she could not deny it. ‘But I have money of my own now, and I don’t feel comfortable about taking yours.’

His look said tough, and that was before he forthrightly told her, ‘Likewise! To take your money makes it too one-sided.’ She opened her mouth to argue, but he went steamrollering on, ‘I have that piece of paper I need, that marriage
certificate, that insurance. You have nothing. And that puts me under an obligation—and I don’t like it!’

‘And you called me proud!’ she erupted. Then, remembering how very ill he had been, and how he still needed to take care, she relented to say softly, ‘Have you forgotten what you did for me when I was so not knowing where to turn? Have you forgotten that I’m living in a lovely apartment, totally rent-free?’

‘I’ve forgotten nothing,’ he grunted.

And her patience ran out. ‘Oh, you’re impossible!’ she snapped, and, digging her hand into her pocket she pulled out the wedding ring. ‘Here,’ she hissed, ‘have this!’

‘What is it?’ he wanted to know.

She came close to braining him. ‘It went with the “I will” bit!’ she retorted—though could not recall those two words featuring in their marriage ceremony. ‘I always intended to give it back to you. I just didn’t think it seemly to do so on the register office steps.’

He took it from her. ‘What am I supposed to do with it?’ he rapped harshly.

She looked at him and wanted to box his ears. ‘Keep it—as a memento of the good times!’ she flew, then turned her back on him and marched to the door.

She heard his short bark of laughter—she had caught his sense of humour. Oddly, as she let herself out from the apartment, she realised that she had a grin on her face. She loved him so much. Even arguing with the wretched man made her feel alive!

Knowing that Mrs Varley was in the apartment, Colly stayed away for nearly two hours. Mrs Varley would make him coffee and anything else he might require. For herself, Colly knew she was getting too close to him. While she loved him, and wanted to be near him, she at the same time felt nervous about that closeness.

She supposed, as Silas had said, she had started the whole
thing rolling by going to see him in hospital that day. But to be with him was not part of their agreement, and, while it had been his idea that she come and stay, she could not help but feel that he might start to regret having asked her once his health was back to normal. Once he was back to his full strength, she had a feeling that he was going to dislike very much the situation she had instigated by that hospital visit.

When Colly returned to the apartment she felt calmer. It had done her good to get away for a short while—even if she’d had to make a determined effort to keep from returning. And while she intended to quietly savour every moment she spent with Silas, she also knew that she would not see him again after tomorrow. Tomorrow, before Paula Livingstone arrived, she would leave.

Since she had no key to the apartment, Colly rang the doorbell. Mrs Varley let her in and, after a few minutes spent in friendly chat, returned to her chores. Colly took her bits of shopping into the kitchen and, despite her strictures on keeping her distance from Silas, had to give in to an overwhelming need to see him.

She looked in at the drawing room on her way to seek him out in his bedroom. But he was in neither room. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he’d said when she had told him she was going out. Oh, surely he had not gone out on his own! Trying not to panic, Colly went looking for him.

She found him in a room she had not been in before—it was a study. He was
working
! ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.

He looked at her—and grinned. Actually grinned. Did not look shame-faced, but
actually
grinned. Her fierce expression amused him, apparently. ‘You wouldn’t let me go out,’ he replied innocently—a man who would do exactly as he wanted without bothering to ask her permission, thank you. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind if I found something to occupy myself with while you were gone.’

Colly calmed down, outwardly. ‘Does that mean you intend to go and rest somewhere now?’ she enquired evenly.

‘My father called just after you left,’ he ignored her question to announce unexpectedly. And, while she was getting over her surprise, ‘He was sorry he missed you.’

Colly was not sorry. One way and another Silas’s family were closing in. True, Silas had been extremely ill and was still recovering. Which meant that they must have been exceedingly alarmed and had more or less lived at the hospital until he had turned the corner, as it were. There was no way that they were not going to keep a check on his progress now.

‘You said I was out?’

‘I told him you went out looking for a lettuce—and might be some while.’

Her lips twitched at his hint that if it had taken her two hours to run some salad to earth, then it must be some pretty special salad. ‘You didn’t tell him anything else?’

Silas shook his head. ‘What we have is personal to us, Colly.’

Her heart turned over at how wonderful that sounded, even though she knew full well that the only thing personal to them was their secret marriage. And in any event, while she instinctively knew that Silas would never lie to his father, Silas did not want anything more personal between them than those facts on that marriage certificate.

She turned away when the phone rang. She had an idea she would be wasting her time were she to insist that he rest. He was in the thick of business before she left his study.

And, in her view, he paid the price for not resting. Mrs Varley left at lunch-time. But Silas did not have any appetite for lunch. Colly took him some soup—in his study. He was not hungry at dinner-time either. Though he did insist on joining Colly at the dinner table.

‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ she suggested when she saw he had eaten all that he was going to eat.

He looked drained, but even so she was sure he was about to say no. Worryingly, after a minute or so, he got up from the table.

He was in bed when Colly went in a short while later. He was not reading, but was just lying there. She grew more worried. ‘As head nurse, is there anything I should know?’ she asked lightly.

‘I’ll let you know,’ he replied, and closed his eyes. Colly went quietly from his room.

But she could not settle. She felt marginally less worried when she heard plumbing sounds that indicated he was taking a shower. Still the same, she could not resist taking another look at him before she retired for the night. She tiptoed into his room. He had switched his light off and appeared to be asleep. She silently retreated.

She showered and got into bed—but she was awake at one, and awake at two. When the clock said three and she was still awake Colly gave in. It was no good. She just knew that she would get no rest until she had been to check on Silas.

Calling herself all sorts of a fool, she still the same got out of bed, slipped on her cotton wrap and, unable to deny the instinct that propelled her, went silently along the hall and, as silently, opened the door to his room. And at the sight that met her eyes she was never more glad that she did.

His bedside lamp was on and Silas was huddled up in bed—shivering. ‘You’re supposed to be asleep!’ he admonished when he saw her.

She hurried into the room, not knowing what to do for the best. ‘Where do you keep your hot-water bottles?’ she asked, reaching him and pulling the duvet up closer around him.

‘Don’t have any,’ he responded, his body shaking with cold.

That figured. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Don’t you dare go calling out a doctor!’ he instructed
shortly. And, when she stared at him obstinately, ‘This is nothing to the attacks I had in hospital.’

That made her feel better, but only marginally. ‘I’ll just go and turn the heating up,’ she said, and went looking for controls. Discovering that the system was programmed to shut down overnight, she switched it on full belt and then hurried to her room to grab up the duvet from her bed.

Back in his room, she wrapped the duvet around him. ‘I’ll just go and make you a warm drink,’ she told him.

‘A brandy would be good.’

‘I’m unsure,’ she answered. ‘It might clash with your medication.’ And, guessing he would probably gag if she made him some hot milk, ‘I’ll make some tea.’

She was still undecided about whether or not to call out a doctor, but decided to leave it a half-hour to see if Silas’s shivering got worse. But in any case, after she took the tea into him she had no intention of leaving him.

She eyed his silk robe at the bottom of the bed, but didn’t think there would be very much heat obtained were she able to get the robe around him. ‘Sit up and drink this,’ she said, and, first placing the tea down, she pulled her duvet closer around him.

In fact she still had an arm about his shaking form as he took a few swigs of tea, wanted no more, and leaned back against her.

‘Put your arm in and try to get some sleep,’ she urged gently.

He obediently put his arm under the covers, but more she suspected because he was cold than because she had told him to. ‘You must sleep too,’ he answered.

‘I will—soon,’ she replied, and, half sitting, half leaning on him, she secured the covers up and around him once more. ‘Try to relax,’ she murmured, realising he was tensing against the cold of his fever.

‘Keep me warm,’ he mumbled, and moved over so she should get closer to him.

It did not require any thinking about. Silas was her first priority, her only priority. She stretched out beside him on top of the covers, her head on the pillows, close to his head. ‘You’ll be all right soon,’ she whispered softly.

‘Don’t get cold,’ he mumbled, and said nothing more, but snuggled against her as though seeking her warmth.

And Colly lay against him, her arms around him. A few minutes later and she was of the view that she should be ringing a doctor or the hospital he had been in. A few minutes after that, though, and she thought his shivering had started to subside.

When another ten minutes had passed and, while Silas was still racked by the occasional shudder, he was not otherwise shaking, Colly thought and hoped that he was over the worst. But, mainly because she was unsure, she stayed with him. Stayed with him and held him, her love.

And gradually the shudders that had taken him began to pass. She felt him begin to relax, heard his even breathing, and she began to relax too, so much so that she closed her eyes.

She stirred in her sleep, moved—and bumped into someone! Her eyes shot wide—she always slept alone. ‘Good morning, Mrs Livingstone,’ said her bed companion.

‘Silas!’ she exclaimed croakily, a hundred and one emotions shooting through her. ‘Er—how are you?’ she asked witlessly, already attempting to scuttle urgently away. Where last night, or in the early hours, she’d had her arm about his shoulders, Silas was now sitting half propped up in bed and had an arm around her shoulders, holding her there. ‘I’m s-sorry,’ she stammered before he could answer. ‘You were shivering,’ she explained hurriedly. ‘I tried to keep you warm.’

‘In the time-honoured way.’

‘Yes—well…’ She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. ‘I’d better go.’

‘No hurry,’ he replied, to her amazement. And, with a grin that she absolutely adored, ‘I’m nowhere near back to my former strength yet.’

That was quite some admission, coming from him. And she checked her agitated movement to stay and look into his face for signs of the exhaustion she had witnessed there yesterday. There were none. ‘Let’s be thankful for small mercies,’ she replied.

‘For that,’ Silas said, and bent over and lightly kissed her.

She adored him some more. And then made a serious attempt to move. And that was when her foot came up against a bare leg! She shot Silas a startled look: she was
under
the duvet with him! ‘I didn’t get into bed with you. I swear I didn’t!’ she protested distractedly.

‘You didn’t,’ he agreed. ‘When I woke up around six, your duvet was on the floor. You were sleeping so soundly it seemed a shame to kick you out. I covered you over.’

‘You’re too good to me,’ she muttered, and again went to get out of bed—but his face was so near that on impulse—her brain anywhere but where it should be—she moved those extra few inches and kissed him. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m going to have to restrain my wicked ways.’ She laughed then, hoping to cover her guilt. ‘Only you were so poorly, it’s a relief to know you’re okay and that, regardless of you ordering me not to, I did do the right thing in not calling a doctor.’ She was gabbling. She broke off. ‘You are all right, aren’t you?’

His very dark blue eyes were looking good-humouredly down into hers. ‘You tell me,’ he suggested, and, his head coming down, he kissed her long and lingeringly.

‘Oh!’ she said on a gasp of breath when he raised his head again. Her body was all of a tingle. ‘I—um—think you’re
stronger than you’re trying to make out,’ she said on a cough. Somehow the will to leave his bed has disappeared.

BOOK: The Right Bride?
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