A True Gentleman by M. A. Nichols

Author:M. A. Nichols [Nichols, M. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-08T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Lifting the teacup to her lips, Tabby took a sip. It was cold but brought blessed relief to her dry throat. Savoring it for a moment, she set the cup on the nightstand and retrieved the book resting beside Captain Ashbrook. With her free hand, Tabby touched his forehead and cheeks, testing the temperature. She had done so countless times, and it was a welcome thrill to find his fever had broken.

“Now, where were we?” she asked. Not that she expected an answer. Captain Ashbrook had not spoken more than a few feverish words since the surgery, but Tabby found herself speaking to him as though nothing were amiss. It helped keep his sad words from haunting her. He thought he had nothing. At certain points during her vigil, Tabby wanted to shake him for such a foolish belief, but mostly, it tore at her soul. More than the words, it was his tone. The hopelessness in it.

Tabby batted away those thoughts and found her place on the page. They had read this novel before, but Tabby could not bring herself to open a new book. There was no indication that the captain heard any of it, and it felt wrong to begin something different if he was too incoherent to enjoy the story. Besides, she rather liked this one and did not mind rereading it, though she would never admit it aloud. After all the times the captain had teased her about her literary preferences, she was not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had successfully converted her to his tastes.

“‘The behaviour of the huntsman struck Brown, although he had no recollection of his face, nor could conceive why he should…’” began Tabby, halting mid-sentence when she looked over the top of the book to see Captain Ashbrook watching her. Tossing it aside, Tabby leapt from her chair.

“Captain?” she asked, taking his hand. “Can you speak?”

He swallowed, his brow tightening, but his eyes remained focused on her.

“Here,” she said, grabbing a glass of water. Carefully, she leaned him up enough to get him a few sips. Immediately, her hands checked his pulse and fever. Though she knew both would be as they were when she had checked them mere moments ago, it gave her such comfort that she could not stop herself from doing so once again.

His lips opened, though his voice was rough. “I do not need a woman fluttering over me,” he croaked.

For a single, awful, infuriating moment, Tabby stared at him, but then she noticed the twinkle of humor in his eye. “Yes, you are a pillar of manly strength. A veritable Hercules ready to leap from his sick bed.”

“How long?” he asked, and Tabby saw the pinch of his lips that she had come to recognize as a sign for thirst mixed with a stubbornness of not wishing to bother her. Without waiting for his express request, Tabby helped him drink a bit more.

“Three days,” she said, laying him on his pillows.

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