“Her note said to wait one week.” Ellen’s voice was laced with weariness. “Today is exactly one week.”
Had it been seven days? Yesterday had been her sixth day in the past. If she’d slept for hours, then it made sense that she’d awoken on the seventh. But how had she been able to return to the present, and why wasn’t her body cooperating with her mind?
She wanted desperately to see Ellen, to look upon that beautiful face of her sister above her, to squeeze her in a hug and tell her that she loved her. She wanted to admonish her not to worry, to rest and take care of herself so she wouldn’t make herself sick.
The solidness of a modern mattress pressed beneath her, and the crispness of a sheet covered her. A tube in her nose, likely the nasogastric tube, was providing nourishment. And there was also an IV in her arm.
“I don’t want you to go to the crypt, Ellen.” Harrison spoke firmly. “In fact, I absolutely forbid it.”
Yes, she echoed Harrison. Don’t go. I’m here. She focused all her attention on her mouth, praying it would open, so her words would find release. But no matter how much she willed her frozen body to work, it wouldn’t.
“Someone has to go—”
“I will.” Harrison’s tone was low and resigned.
“Not after what they did to you.”
Who were they? What had they done? Marian’s heart raced. Again she worked to pry her eyelids up, her mind shouting at Harrison and Ellen not to go, not to put themselves in danger, not when she hadn’t hidden anything there yet.
“Why did she pick the crypt?” Ellen’s fingers slid down into Marian’s.
Marian wanted to squeeze back, even if only minutely. Surely Ellen would feel the movement and know she could hear them. For a second she focused all her thoughts and energy on her fingers. Move. She commanded, then pleaded.
But there was nothing.
Apparently coming out of a coma took some time. She should have known better. Surely it was only a matter of time before she could make some indication to her sister and Harrison that she was with them.
Harrison released a tired sigh. “I understand your frustration, love. But when so many other places have been torn down or wrecked from wars and the passing of time, the crypt has remained relatively unchanged since the Middle Ages.”
“But this place.” Marian could picture Ellen waving one of her elegant hands at the room. “She could have hidden something here.”
“This has always been a private residence. She would have no way of knowing if she could gain access. Whereas, the cathedral was open to pilgrims and had hundreds of visitors converging upon it every year. She’d have a much easier time getting into the cathedral than Chesterfield Park.”
Marian couldn’t wait to tell Harrison how wrong he was—that she’d made it into Chesterfield Park before the cathedral. Of course, both he and Ellen would be horrified to learn of the circumstances she’d experienced. But she would enjoy seeing Harrison’s reaction when she informed him of all she’d learned about his family home.
In doing so, she’d have to explain that she’d married Sir William Durham. They’d think she was crazy for doing so. And she was, wasn’t she?
Her thoughts returned to Will. He’d driven his dirk through a peasant’s foot and nailed it to the ground with no remorse. With drawn sword, he’d been ready to battle a dozen peasants, and would have slain them without hesitation if they’d challenged him. He was a fierce warrior who had likely killed countless men.
Yet, in stark contrast to his warlike demeanor, he’d carried her like she was a crown jewel. He’d deposited her on his bed with such tenderness. And then he’d kissed her hand . . .
Warmth speared her middle and spread outward to her arms and legs. She would miss him. Even though they hadn’t been together long, she liked him, more so than any other man she’d ever met.
What would he say when he found her unresponsive? Her pulse stumbled at the thought.
The hand encompassing hers was comforting. Thick calluses pressed against her tender skin. Her eyelids fluttered. She must be regaining her movement, sooner rather than later. She lifted her lashes and found herself staring at a burgundy canopy.
She shifted her gaze to see a dark head bent over her hand. It was Will sitting in a tall-backed chair next to her bed, holding one of her hands between his. His broad shoulders were slumped and his head bent, as though he were praying.
What had happened? Where was Ellen?
For a frantic second, she scrambled to conjure her sister and Harrison again. They were there. Only a slight overlapping dimension of time and space away. She had to return to them.
A soft pressure against her hand stopped the runaway thoughts and brought her back completely to the moment, to the realization that Will’s lips were pressed to the back of her hand. His breath was warm and bathed her skin.
His kiss was long and lingering before he lowered her hand back to the bed. Even there he kept his hold, head still bent, weariness radiating from the droop of his shoulders.
How long had he been at her side?
She gently squeezed his hand.
His head snapped up, and his tortured eyes met hers. What haunted this man? What had happened to him to cause such heartache?
She had the sudden and intense longing to ease his pain, to comfort him, to turn that agony to peace. What could she do to help him?
She offered him a smile, at least as much of one as her lips would allow.
He released a tense breath, and his grip around her hand tightened. “How do you fare?” He studied her face before assessing the rest of her body.
“I’m just fine.” She pushed up to her elbow. Someone had changed her out of her habit and put her into a thin shift.
He swallowed hard before speaking again. “We could wake you to no avail.”
Had she fallen into a coma for a slight time? Somehow she’d been able to travel back to the present, or at the very least had envisioned it. But how could she explain that to Will when she couldn’t understand it herself? “I’m sure I was just very tired. After recent events.”
“Naught ails you in particular?”
Just disappointment that she hadn’t returned to the present after all. “No, nothing ails me.” As soon as the words were out, her stomach gave an angry rumble.
Will glanced toward a corner of the room where Sarah stood, wringing her hands anxiously. “Fetch Lady Marian a meal.”
Sarah nodded her assent and scurried out the doorway, her hurried steps echoing in the hallway.
“I’ll get up,” Marian said. “I can manage for myself.”
“You must rest.” Will spoke the words as if she had no other option.
“What time is it?”
“Past midday.”
Half the day was gone. She tried not to panic. Even if she hadn’t found the ampullae, she needed to place something into the crypt to let Harrison and Ellen know she was all right. She couldn’t let Harrison go there today for nothing.
“I would like to get dressed.” She tried to push herself higher in the bed but only fumbled against the sagging mattress.
Will reached out to steady her, releasing her hand and instead grasping her upper arm. His fingers were warm through the thin linen. “You are still too weak.”