Just over half way through Snowy and the Seven Blossoms, and my hero and heroine have had their first kiss.
Mr Snowden, exhausted, had fallen into an uneasy sleep, and hardly stirred when a messenger arrived back from the House of Blossoms with clean linen and blankets to make the bed. A bag of clothing for Snowy, too, from which he produced a nightshirt for Mr Snowden.
Ash and Peter helped to move the patient from one side of the bed to the other so that Snowy and Margaret could make it, and then said their farewells.
“I’ll have my cook’s assistant sent over with breakfast makings tomorrow morning,” Peter said. “She’s competent to take over your kitchen until you can hire servants. I’ll send some maids, too, Snowy.”
“And I shall send a couple of maids, too, Snowy, and some footmen,” Ash added. “Are you ready to leave, Margaret?”
“Not yet, Ash. Have my carriage take you home and come back for me.”
Peter protested. “We cannot leave you alone with to two unmarried men, Margaret.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you will not,” Margaret retorted.
The two men exchanged glances and then inclined their heads in acceptance. When Snowy returned from seeing them out, he protested, too. “You cannot stay alone with me during the night, my lady. Tell me what I must watch for.”
“I am staying with my patient, Snowy. It is likely that it will take both of us to care for him tonight. If you have paper and ink, I shall write a note for my household and send it with the carriage when it returns.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but must have seen the determination in her eyes, for what he said was, “Whatever fate did I offend that independent-minded women beleaguer me at every turn?” But his eyes were warm when he said it.
It was a long night. Several times, Margaret and Snowy sponged Mr Snowden—Ned, as Snowy called him—to bring down his temperature. Snowy sang to him when he was restless, and Margaret soon learned the words and took her turn with the lullaby.
Every few minutes she dribbled water into his throat, and from time to time fed him willow-bark tea from a spoon.
Towards morning, the fever broke and he woke with sense in his eyes for the first time. “Hal! You came!” He looked around. “Lady Charmain! You are here, too? Where are we?”
“In a house of my own, Ned,” Snowy replied. “One I have only just purchased, so it is bit bare at the moment. But it has the advantage that no one will know where we are.”
“Ah.” It was a sigh of satisfaction as Ned’s eyes closed again. This time, his sleep was more settled.
“A natural sleep,” Margaret said, pleased.
Snowy took her hand. “You’ve done it, Lady Charmain. I am forever in your debt.”
As he bent forward, she turned her head and the kiss he perhaps intended for her cheek landed on her mouth, tentative and gentle. Margaret closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss. It had been a long time, and never like this—a leisurely exploration that beckoned and enticed.
It went on forever, and was over too soon.
A knock on the front door downstairs broke through the pleasant haze that absorbed Margaret, and Snowy, too, drew back. Margaret was pleased to see he looked as dazed as she felt, and, as he shuddered as he took a deep breath. “I’ll see to that,” he said.