by Bree Wolf
“Why did you tell them?” Derek demanded, remembering that what he hated even more than being sick was being treated as such. It was his job to take care of others, not the other way around.
A determined set came to her jaw as she placed the tray on his nightstand. Then her gaze met his, and Derek knew that he had lost. “They’re your family,” she said in a calm and steady voice, and yet, it felt like a slap in the face. “They, too, have the right to take care of the people they love.”
Derek drew in a startled breath. Not once before had he thought of it as a right to take care of others, but maybe she was correct. “Then why are you taking care of me?”
Before he could stop himself, the words flew from his lips, and he saw her flinch as though slapped. What were they doing to each other?
With her lips pressed into a hard line, she poured tea into a cup and held it out to him. “Drink this.”
“I’m sorry,” Derek mumbled, trying to prop himself up on one elbow. Then he took the cup from her hand, careful not to touch her, and sipped the hot tea, enjoying the liquid as it soothed the ache in his throat. A mere moment later, he lay back down, feeling exhausted as though he had spent a day chopping wood.
Rounding the bed, his wife approached the window. “You need to sleep,” she stated simply before pulling the curtains closed and bathing the room in a dim light.
With his sight all but gone, Derek found it impossible to keep his eyes open. Feeling sleep claim him, he finally surrendered, only dimly aware of the soft sounds his wife made as she stepped back up to the bed, the warmth of her presence touching him even as he slept.
How long his mind remained lost to the world Derek could not say. However, when it finally did return to a wakeful state, he found that he was not alone.
Seated beside his bed was his wife, her face barely visible in the dim glow from the fire. “How do you feel?” she asked, her voice no longer laced with anger.
Derek swallowed painfully, his throat sore from lack of use. “Water,” he whispered, his voice almost inaudible.
“Tea,” his wife corrected, pouring him a cup from a presumably fresh pot as it was still hot.
Savouring the soothing warmth as it ran down his throat, Derek sighed and closed his eyes. His body still burnt, and even the smallest movement sent pain radiating through it. Then a gentle cold settled on his head, and he looked up, finding his wife placing a wet cloth on his forehead. “That feels good,” he whispered, trying to hold her gaze.
Although he felt like hell, there was something in the way she took care of him that did not make him feel vulnerable and exposed. In fact, he felt safe and cared for, and he wanted her to know how much this meant to him.
Still, his mind could not find the words as it barely had enough strength to ward off the tempting call of slumber. Before he knew what was happening, Derek’s eyes closed once more, and he sank into a deep sleep.
The next time he awoke, Derek noticed that no light seemed to stream in through the gaps between curtain and wall. Only the soft glow of the embers in the hearth allowed him to see his wife laying hunched over on the side of his bed, her eyes closed.
Despite the sickness that still plagued his body, Derek could not help but smile. Then his gaze drifted over her peaceful face, and he finally felt a soft weight on his right hand. Looking down, he realised that Madeline’s hand was wrapped around his, the tips of her fingers gently resting on the pulse point in his wrist as though she needed confirmation that he was still there.
Over the course of the next two days, Derek slipped in and out of sleep. Sometimes he awoke only for a few minutes, and sometimes he stayed awake long enough to drink some tea and nibble on a biscuit. However, no matter what, his wife remained by his side. Sometimes awake. Sometimes slumped over and asleep.
But she was always there, holding his hand.
Derek had felt never so at peace in his life.
“How do you feel?” Madeline asked yet again when he opened his eyes presumably three days after his friends’ departure.
Concentrating, Derek tried to take stock of all the pains and aches that had been assaulting him for much too long now. However, to his astonishment, the greatest pain radiated from his stomach. “Hungry,” he finally said, a somewhat victorious grin coming to his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “Quite honestly, I’m famished.”
At his words, the tension dropped from her face, and a deep smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Her hand squeezed his, and she rose to her feet, coming to sit beside him on the bed, her other hand reaching for his face. “The fever is down,” she whispered as though afraid her words could make it return.
“I suppose it is a mere cold after all,” Derek whispered back, his gaze travelling over her face as he inhaled her scent, suddenly so close after the long distance that had been between them before.
Her gaze narrowed; however, she did not move away. “Do you wish to discuss who was right and who was wrong?” she challenged, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that Derek had missed for too long.
Smiling, he shook his head. “There is something else I wish to do.” Unable to restrain himself, he grasped her chin and pulled her into a kiss.
Startled, she tried to pull back, but his hand snaked around to the back of her neck, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. Her resistance instantly subsided, and she leaned into him, her hands gliding over his body, touching his skin, rejoicing in the fact that it felt warm, heated, flushed.
But not burning.
“You need to eat,” she gasped as she managed to tear her lips away from his. Placing a hand on his chest, she kept him back as he tried to pull her forward once more. “No,” she said, her voice insistent. “I shall go and find you some food.”
Reluctantly, Derek relinquished his hold on her, his gaze sliding over her face…taking note of the dark circles under her eyes and the pale tinge of her skin. “You need to sleep,” he replied, no humour in his voice as he finally realised how demanding his care had been for her. For days, she had sat at his bed, watching over him, only catching a wink of sleep here and there.
In short: she was exhausted.
“Ask my mother to bring up some food,” he told her, knowing that it would be impossible to get her into bed without assuring her that he would eat. “Then go and lie down. I’m fine.”
Holding his gaze, she finally nodded. “All right.” Squeezing his hand one last time, she stepped back from the bed.
When the door closed behind her, Derek sank back into the pillows, realising to his great dismay that his strength had not fully returned yet. In truth, his limbs felt as heavy as lead, and he doubted very much that he could even walk to the door and back.
No, he would have to be more patient.
With his recovery.
As well as with her.
But he would not walk away.
For a short moment, she had been in his arms tonight, and it had felt familiar and utterly fulfilling. In that moment, it had been as though the chasm between them had never been.
That thought gave Derek hope.
Settling back into the pillows, he gazed into the soft glow of the embers in the hearth as the wind howled outside and rain spattered down onto the roof and against the windows. It truly was a turbulent night.
Chapter Thirty-Three − A Raging Storm
Lost in deep sleep, Madeline sensed the uproar more than she heard the agitated voices in the room next to hers.
As she had spent the past few days in constant alertness, worried about her husband, her mind quickly abandoned the sweet oblivion of sleep and jerked her wide awake within seconds.
Her eyes flew open, and she shot upright, trying to orient herself in the dark room.
Her family’s distressed voices drifted through the door, and Madeline’s heart stopped. Had her husband taken a turn for the worse?
As Madeline had not bothered to change when Derek had sent her to bed, she jumped to her feet and ru
shed to the door, yanking it open, her eyes immediately finding the man in the bed.
Startled, all eyes turned to her as she stepped into the room, her heart filling with relief when she saw Derek sitting in bed, his eyes narrowed as he spoke to his brother-in-law. He seemed fine, or at least as fine as could be expected under the circumstances.
“What’s going on?” Madeline asked, surprised to see not only Sean, but also Kara and Bessy standing around the bed. Then she looked closer and saw a small boy in front of Kara, a blanket wrapped around his slim shoulders.
However, the boy was not Collin.
Maybe a few years older than Madeline’s nephew, this boy had dark brown hair cut short and at present dripping wet. His eyes stood open wide, and he shivered all over, trying to pull the blanket closer around himself. Fear rested on his features as he fidgeted in Kara’s embrace.
Looking closer, Madeline finally recognised him. It was Daring Matt as Collin called him.
Matthew Dunning.
The widow’s son.
“What is going on?” Madeline repeated, her eyes shifting over her family’s concerned faces. “What’s wrong? Why is he here?”
Pulling the blanket from his legs, her husband made to stand up. “The roof of Meagan’s cottage−”
Another coughing fit seized him, and he almost doubled over.
Meagan? Madeline wondered as she rushed to his side, offering him the cup of tea once he was able to breathe again. “You’re not going anywhere!” she ordered, pushing him back onto the bed. Feeling his forehead, she was relieved to see the fever had not returned. Still, he was not fit to leave the bed.
Ready to object, Derek opened his mouth; however, before he got a single word out, Sean stepped forward. “Mrs. Dunning’s roof caved in,” he said, glancing at the little boy. “Matthew’s mother and sister are trapped inside so he came running over, asking for help.”
“I have to go!” Derek exclaimed, once more pulling back the blanket.
Exasperated, Madeline jabbed him in the chest, watching him fall back against the pillows with no small amount of satisfaction. “If you try to get up one more time, I swear I will tie you to the bed,” she snarled into his face. “Have I made myself clear?”
Her husband’s lips tightened as he stared up at her. “They need help!”
“And they will get help,” Madeline replied, a touch of menace in her voice, “but not from you.” Then she stood up straight and took a deep breath. Never had she found herself in such a situation where another’s life depended on what she would deci−
Madeline stopped. Yes, she had. When Collin had collapsed, she had taken matters into her own hands…and her decision to act had saved his life. There was no reason she could not do so again.
Swallowing, she turned to Sean. “Alert the nearest neighbours,” she instructed. “Tell them to come to the widow’s cottage right away. We’ll need their help.”
Before the last word had left her lips, Sean darted out of the room.
“Bessy.” Spinning around, Madeline looked to her mother-in-law. “You see to the children.”
“I will,” Bessy confirmed, a proud gleam in her eyes as she nodded to Madeline.
Glancing at her husband, Madeline added, “Even your own. He does not leave this bed, is that clear?”
As her husband’s jaw dropped open in outrage, Bessy chuckled. “As you wish, my lady.”
“Good. Kara, would you please get my boots and coat,” Madeline asked. “I’ll be down in a minute.” Ushering her family out the door, she turned to her husband, doing her best to ignore the anger burning in his eyes.
“You have no right to tell me what−”
“Yes, I do,” she interrupted, striding toward the bed. “You are in no shape to get up, and if you’re not willing to see that, then it is up to me to ensure that you do not endanger yourself. I’m your wife, and you will do as I say.”
As he stared at her with wide eyes, Madeline noticed a slight twitch in his upper lip as though he secretly delighted in the way she spoke to him.
Madeline swallowed, “I know it is not easy for you to relinquish control, but you need to trust me when I tell you that I will find a way to get them out. Believe me…she…will be fine.” Rising to her feet, Madeline turned to the door, unable to look at her husband any longer. Was he merely concerned for one of his tenants? Or was…Meagan…special to him?
“Be careful,” he called after her, his voice raw with emotion.
Looking back at him over her shoulder, Madeline swallowed seeing fear in his eyes. “I will.”
He nodded to her as though binding her to her words. “I cannot lose you.”
As hope surged to her heart, Madeline’s breath caught in her throat. “Me? Or her?” she asked and before he could answer slipped out of the room. Even if she needed to know, she did not need to know right then and there.
It would not serve her to break down sobbing because her husband had lost his heart to another woman. There were a mother and child in danger, and no matter who they were, they deserved to get help.
And she would make sure they received it.
Hastening down the stairs, Madeline found Collin and Matt in the kitchen, slurping Bessy’s stew, while Kara and her mother stood by the workbench talking.
“I am fine, Mother. I can go.”
“You should be careful in your condition,” Bessy objected, her gaze travelling to Kara’s swollen midsection. “Do you want to risk losing your child?”
“Of course not,” Kara stated. “But little Erin−”
“You’re not coming!” Madeline instructed as she sat down on a chair to pull on her boots.
“What? Why?” Staring at her, Kara shook her head while her mother nodded in approval. “If it were Collin−”
“You’re still not coming,” Madeline repeated, slipping into her warmest coat. “Your mother is right. If something were to happen to you or the baby, none of us would ever forgive ourselves.” Grasping Kara’s hands, she held her gaze. “Take care of Matt, and soon, we’ll bring back Erin and…her mother. And then we’ll be needing your help.”
Sighing, Kara nodded. “But you cannot go by yourself.”
Buttoning up her coat, Madeline stepped toward the door. “I will not be alone for long.” Then she slipped outside and sucked in a sharp breath as the cold night air hit her flushed cheeks. Instantly, her teeth began to chatter, and she glanced up at the sky, relieved that the rain had eased up. Still, the wind howled like a wild beast, sending shivers down her back.
Finding her way in the dark proved less difficult when the clouds moved, revealing a crescent moon hanging high in the sky. However, when the darkness engulfed her, Madeline could not see her hand before her eyes. More than once, she stumbled and went down onto her knees, her hands sinking into mud and wet grass.
Step by agonisingly slow step, she made her way up the small slope until she could see the cottage on the other side when the silvery moonlight reached down to the sodden ground.
A gasp of horror tore from her throat as she saw the smashed-in structure. The old oak tree that had been charred by lightning had become uprooted in the storm and fallen onto the side of the cottage, tearing down the wall and unhinging the roof.
Before she knew it Madeline was running down the small slope toward the trapped family, her eyes searching for openings into the house that had once been the family’s home, hoping for a way inside. “Mrs. Dunning!” she called as she approached, praying that they were still alive. “Mrs. Dunning! Erin!”
“We’re here!” came a quiet voice from within, barely audible over the howling of the wind. “We’re here!”
Coming to a stop just short of the collapsed cottage, Madeline glanced around. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“My daughter is not moving,” Mrs. Dunning called, terror clear in her voice. “I can’t get to her. My foot is stuck. Please help us!”
Still searching for a way in around the walls that remained
standing, Madeline began to clear some fallen and splintered boards out of the way, trying to get closer. One of the window panes had been splintered by a fallen beam, and Madeline carefully grabbed the wooden frame with her hands, giving it a careful shake.
It did not move.
Did not even sway.
Encouraged, she put more strength into it, trying to determine if it could be used as a way inside. Would the wall hold if she attempted to climb in through the window?
“Where are you?” Madeline called again. “Are you or Erin near the broken window? Can you see it from where you are?”
“I’m across the room, but I can see it,” Mrs. Dunning called. “My daughter is in-between. Something hit her on the head.” A sob escaped the terrified mother. “She’s not moving.”
Cursing under her breath, Madeline gritted her teeth and placed her hands on the window frame. She could not wait for their neighbours. She needed to do something now. “Is she breathing?”
“I don’t know. It’s too dark to see.”
Madeline took a deep breath and began to push herself up, slowly and carefully lifting herself onto the window frame, listening for the wood to give way under her weight.
However, it did not.
Encouraged, Madeline inched forward, gazing into the darkness inside the collapsed cottage. Without the moon, it was almost pitch black. Swinging her legs over, she began to lower herself toward the floor as her muscles strained to hold her. What if little Erin lay closer than her mother thought? What if she stepped on the girl in the dark?
Closing her eyes for a moment, Madeline drew in a deep breath before suddenly the muscles in her right arm began to quiver under the strain, and she slumped down abruptly.
A sharp pain cut into her arm, and Madeline cried out.
“Are you all right?” Mrs. Dunning called out. “What happened?”
Gritting her teeth, Madeline felt her arm, her fingers touching something cold, smooth, wet.
A piece of glass from the broken window.
As her teeth ground together to muffle her cry, Madeline pulled the shard from her flesh, feeling a warm wetness run down her arm and onto her dress.