The Seduction (36 page)

By his own admission, he did not know what love was. Perhaps, when they were married, she could teach him.

She loved him. How ironic that she should discover it now, when it might be too late, when she might lose him forever.

The next few hours passed slowly. Cornelia brought her a hot meal, but Margaret left it
untasted
. Edward came in, urging her to go to bed and offering to sit with Trevor in her place, but she refused. A maid brought fresh water, and Margaret sponged Trevor's face and chest over and over as she listened to his incoherent mumblings and prayed for his fever to break.

It finally did, just before dawn. She straightened in her chair and pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin felt damp and cool to the touch. His delirious mumblings stopped, and he fell into a silent and peaceful sleep.

With a sob of gratitude and relief, she pressed a kiss to the back of his hand and said a prayer of thanks. Now that the danger was past, exhaustion washed over her, and she fell back in her chair. Still holding Trevor's hand in hers, she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Trevor awoke feeling weak,
battered, and utterly wretched. He realized from the softness beneath him that he was in a bed, though he could not recall how he had gotten there. He knew he'd had an attack of malaria, but, as was usually the case with that affliction, everything seemed hazy in his mind. The last thing he remembered clearly was Margaret leaning over him, her dark eyes filled with worry and her fingertips touching his face.

He opened his eyes, blinking against the bright sunlight. The room was unknown to him, and he had no idea where he was. But when he turned his head, he saw that Margaret was still beside him.

She was asleep in an uncomfortable-looking chair, her head tilted at an angle that would give her quite an ache when she woke. There was a bucket of water at her feet, and a tray of untouched food on the bedside table. Her hair was loose and tangled,
and there were purple shadows under her eyes that indicated a lack of sleep, as if she had been too busy looking after his needs to bother with her own. That notion stirred something deep inside him, an
undefinable
feeling that touched him like the warmth of spring after a long, cold winter. Of all the women he had ever known, he could recall none who would sit by his bedside and tend to him in such a way. Even his own mother wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.

Suddenly, she woke. Straightening in her chair, she saw that he was watching her. "You're awake," she murmured, smiling at him. "Thank God."

He looked into her dirt-smudged face and saw a tenderness in her expression he'd never seen before. Tenderness, relief, and something else he could not quite define. Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable and took refuge in teasing. "Worried about me, Maggie?"

But she did not respond as he expected. Her smile faded. "Yes," she said gravely. "Terribly worried. I was afraid you would die."

"If malaria hasn't killed me by now, it isn't going to."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've been run down by a train." He took another look around. "Where are we?"

"Naples. We arrived last night. Do you remember anything about how we got here?"

He shook his head. "I know we lost the horse, and I remember we walked all that afternoon and the next morning. But after that, everything is rather a blur."

"That's not surprising. You've been ill for three days." She reached for a rag from the table beside her and dipped it in the bucket of water. Wringing it out, she began to dab his face with it. "I got us a ride in a wagon. Do you remember that?"

"No."

"Well, that's how we arrived here." She rose and dropped the rag into the basin. "I'll tell Edward and Cornelia that you're feeling better. Are you hungry? I'll have a breakfast tray brought in for you."

She walked to the door, but paused with her hand on the knob and turned to look at him. "Trevor, do you remember the night before you became ill? When you told me I would have to make a choice?"

His mouth tightened. He remembered it perfectly, as one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. "Yes," he answered. "I remember."

She ducked her head almost shyly. "Then perhaps you had best write to my father immediately for his consent. I should like to be married from London, and he can make the arrangements on our behalf. I don't wish for a long engagement, and I don't think you do either."

She lifted her head. "I love you," she said and opened the door. Giving him another smile, she departed, closing the door softly behind her.

Trevor stared at the closed door in utter astonishment. She loved him. When and how had this transformation taken place? If he'd known that being ill would do the trick, he'd have lost his quinine long before now.

A miracle. Elation washed over him, and he wanted to laugh aloud. She loved him. It was a bloody miracle.

"Engaged?" Cornelia sank down on the edge of the bed in Margaret's room and stared at her half-dressed cousin in astonishment. "To Ashton?"

"Who else?" Margaret stopped combing out her wet hair and met Cornelia's eyes in the mirror over her dressing table, laughing at her cousin's expression. "You seem surprised."

"I am stunned."

"I don't know why you should be." Margaret rose and walked over to the closet. Cornelia had brought all of Margaret's things to the cottage, and her maid had placed a few of her favorite dresses in the closet. Margaret pulled out a suit of pale yellow satin and a Tuscan straw bonnet trimmed with ox-eye daisies and yellow ribbon. "Weren't you determined that I should find an Englishman who suited me?" she asked teasingly as she hung the suit on a hook and placed the hat on a nearby chair.

But Cornelia was staring into space, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. "It worked, then," she murmured absently.

"What worked?"

Cornelia recovered herself with an effort. "I mean that, that we finally managed to acquaint you with a man you actually like."

"Like is not the way I would describe it." Margaret walked over to the bed and fell across it with a sigh of pure contentment. "Cornelia, tell me something. How did you know when you were in love with Edward?"

"I-I don't know, really. It happened so gradually that I can't point to a specific moment. Why?"

"When you realized it, how did you feel? Was it this wonderful feeling that made you want to laugh and sing and shout your love from the rooftops?"

"No, nothing so momentous as that. It was more like a quiet sort of understanding. Why do you want to know how I felt?"

Margaret rolled over to stare at the ceiling.

"Because I wanted to know if other people in love feel as I do."

"Are you in love with Ashton? Of course, you must be, or you would not be marrying him."

"You know me well enough to know that!" She sat up. "Oh, Cornelia, I've never felt like this before. It's, it's like this joy inside me that almost hurts, it's so wonderful."

"But you disliked him so. You wouldn't even receive him the last day of Carnival."

"I know, but everything is different now, and I've quite forgotten how I felt then."

Cornelia looked away. "I see."

Margaret was puzzled. "Aren't you pleased? Are you not happy for me?"

"Of course I am," Cornelia answered hastily and grasped her hands. "I am very happy for you. But are you certain, absolutely certain, that he is the right man for you?"

"I have no doubts at all." She jumped to her feet and spun around, laughing. "Once I realized how much I love him, every doubt in my mind disappeared. I am so happy I feel dizzy."

"You're making me dizzy, too. Will you stop spinning like a child's toy top?"

"Sorry," she said, not at all apologetic. She walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. "While Trevor is sleeping, why don't we go for a walk? It's a gorgeous day."

"If you wish."

"This is a charming house," Margaret said, looking down into the garden below.

"Yes, it is. Edward was fortunate to be able to let it on such short notice."

"You must tell me everything that happened after I was taken. Did you learn immediately what had happened?"

Cornelia sank back down on the bed beside her and looked toward the window without answering.

"Cornelia, what on earth is the matter? You seem very odd."

"Do I? Perhaps it is because I do not have your thirst for adventure. I find kidnappings rather a distressing business."

"It wasn't so bad, really. For thieves, they were rather amiable, in fact. And Trevor was wonderful. He crept right into their camp and rescued me. Of course, it seemed awful at the time, but now that I look back on it, it was truly the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Well?" Margaret prompted. "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

"We had just noticed your disappearance from the church when Lord Ashton arrived. Edward had already invited him to accompany us, but he felt that you were angry with him since you would not receive him the day before and he declined. Anyway, a note had arrived that morning informing him of your kidnapping and demanding a ransom. I didn't quite understand, but they didn't want money. It seems they were after some sort of list."

"Yes, yes, I know all about that. Go on."

"Lord Ashton arranged everything. He said he would go after you and that Edward and I should come here and wait. He wired to Naples and arranged for this cottage, so we left the servants to pack up everything and took the evening train here while Lord Ashton went after you."

"Poor Cornelia! You must have been worried sick."

"Yes, I was," her cousin replied, sounding so miserable that Margaret let go of her hand and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Well, I'm fine, truly. I'm all in one piece, and no real harm was done."

"Thank heaven. If anything had happened to you, I would never forgive myself."

"That's silly! It's hardly your fault that Trevor's enemies decided to kidnap me."