AMY WOKE to the sound of low voices nearby. She kept her eyes shut tight—she had no intention of letting anyone know she was conscious just yet—but even so, she could tell from the color inside her lids that morning had arrived.
Finally.
Several times during the interminable night, she’d awakened and floated to the surface of awareness, first hearing the soft crackling from the fireplace, then feeling the persistent burning in her right palm. And then she’d remember—and immediately force herself back into the depths of slumber. Back to where it was last week, and she wasn’t alone in the world, and her only worry was her upcoming nuptials.
Once, she’d sensed a presence in the chamber and slitted her eyes open, peeking through her lids to see Colin watching her, his profile dark against the light of the flickering fire. She’d shut her eyes and lain perfectly still, feigning sleep until he left. He’d sighed heavily before closing the door behind him.
What kind of sigh had it been? she’d wondered vaguely as she lapsed back to her troubled dreams. A sigh of concern, or a sigh of exasperation?
He certainly seemed to be exasperated now.
“I need this deuced business over and done with,” she heard him say. “I’ve responsibilities to get back to.”
“Well, it’s not to be,” a deeper voice answered reasonably. His older brother, Amy reckoned. So the brothers were back. “You’ll have to deliver the children without her. You’re not going to haul her around the countryside unconscious, are you?”
“Of course not!” Colin snapped.
“Shh! She might be ill, you know, if she’s been sleeping this long.” A younger, slightly scratchy voice. The other brother.
She heard a couple of footsteps, then a warm palm pressed onto her forehead and rested there a few seconds. Colin. It had to be. “She’s not hot,” she heard him say from right above her head. “And I checked her hand again last night. There’s no infection.”
Amy’s stomach fluttered at the thought of him caring for her while she slept. Perhaps she should let him know she’d awakened…
No! He’d take her away, ship her to France, and she wasn’t ready to go. Aunt Elizabeth was kind, but she’d smothered Amy with concern following her mother’s death. She couldn’t face that yet; she needed a few days to think about things, to come to some kind of peace within herself.
Better to pretend she still slept.
“It won’t be a simple matter to find a chaperone in London right now,” Amy heard Kendra pointing out. “And you cannot just plop her on a ship by herself.”
“That’s true,” he admitted grudgingly.
“You’d better go,” Kendra advised. “The wagon is packed, and the children are waiting. She’s not going to magically wake up, and even if she did, it would take her too long to get ready. She hasn’t eaten in two days.”
“More like four days,” Colin grumbled. The voices receded, accompanied by footsteps. “I suppose you’re right.”
“We’ll have her ready and waiting when you return,” Amy strained to hear Kendra say before the voices faded away entirely.
Amazingly, Amy Goldsmith woke up the minute Colin’s wagon rattled over the drawbridge.