The Wilder Wedding. Lyn Stone
of twenty-four hours, I’ve become your wife,” she said, feeling the blush color her cheeks, “and embarked on yet another exciting adventure! Will you show me Paris? Will we have the time?”
“I will make the time,” he declared, brushing his hand down her face to cup her chin. “You shall see everything there is to see. The Tuileries, Bonaparte’s Tomb, the Arch, the Louvre. All of it.”
“What else? What else? Tell me more!” she demanded with an impatient bounce.
He shook his head. “Isn’t that enough? Oh, all right, then, how’s this? The tallest structure in the known world, three hundred meters. Will that do? There is this tower in the middle of the city, built for the Exposition.”
“Oh, I read of that,” she said excitedly. “It’s costing them millions!”
“In francs, yes,” he agreed. “But I’m afraid it’s too ugly to thrill you much.”
“No, no, I shall love it,” she said, shaking her head. The mist-dampened feather on her hat drooped across one eye.
“Let’s get you inside before you’re completely soaked. I think the wind is picking up.”
In her excitement, Laura hadn’t even noticed they had gotten under way. Obediently she accompanied him to the cabin where they could pass the short trip in comfort.
Half an hour later, she dashed out and back to the rail. Sean held her fast as she leaned over and lost her breakfast and luncheon. When her stomach had collapsed in on itself, she drooped in his arms and rested against him.
“It’s too soon,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut against her disappointment. “I thought it would be all right…but I don’t want to…go yet.”
His arms tightened around her, one hand pressing her now-hatless head against his chest and the other holding her whole body snug against his. “You’re not going anywhere!” he snapped furiously. “You hear me? Not anywhere but to France. To see Paris. To dance away the night. To laugh and eat beignets, drink café au lait, the best champagne….”
“Oh, God, don’t speak of food!” She pushed him away and retched again.
He enfolded her more softly this time. “This is only seasickness, Laura. You won’t die of it, I promise, no matter how you feel at the moment.”
Somehow she didn’t quite believe him. From the desperate way he held her and the tone of his voice, he must not quite believe it, either.
For the remainder of the crossing, Laura lay cocooned in a blanket Sean had secured from one of the stewards, expecting to breathe her last at any moment. By the time they reached Calais, she found herself embracing the thought. Anything would be better than the misery she endured.
“I’ll send for a doctor, darling,” Sean whispered against her ear as they disembarked. He carried her in his arms toward one of the waiting carriages for hire.
“First we’ll go to a hotel and get you to bed.”
Laura allowed herself to doze in the carriage. She felt the sick dizziness subside a bit when he deposited her on a cushioned armchair near the innkeeper’s desk. “Sean?” she called when he started to step away from her to register.
“Yes?” he answered immediately, hurrying back to kneel beside her and take her hands in his. “What is it?” The sharp concern on his face made her smile.
“I feel much better. The sickness seems to be fading.” In fact, she felt a bit hungry. “Do you think we could order up some tea? Maybe a few salted biscuits?” Laura watched his wide shoulders droop with what she suspected was relief.
“Anything,” he answered on a protracted sigh. “Whatever you want. Will you be all right here for a moment?”
She nodded and smiled again, putting more energy into it than she really felt. Perhaps she would have a reprieve after all, another day to enjoy. During the few moments it took Sean to arrange for a room, she recovered completely. Nothing of her illness remained save a bit of weakness in her knees when she first stood alone. She insisted, over Sean’s objection, that she could manage the stairs to their rooms on her own two feet.
When the doctor arrived, he caught Laura with her mouth full of savory chicken stew. “Good day to you, Madame Wilder,” he greeted her. The newness of the address thrilled her into a happy grin.
“The mal de mer abates, oui?” He continued, “I am Dr. Louis Grillet, at your service.”
Laura swallowed again and held out her hand. The handsome rascal kissed it! Lingeringly. She shot a glance at Sean. He was frowning ominously at the physician’s gesture. Lord, he looked jealous.
“Enchanté,” she announced sweetly just to further gauge her husband’s reaction. He stepped nearer. If the doctor had not been leaning against her bedside already, Laura thought Sean might have pushed between them.
Something inside her did cartwheels, and it had nothing to do with her formerly unsettled stomach. “You were kind to come so quickly,” she said to Dr. Grillet, “but it looks as though I don’t need you after all. As you can see, I am fine. Appetite restored,” she said pointing toward her half-empty tray of food, “and no lingering effects. I suspect my husband and I may have overreacted.”
“Perhaps a more thorough examination is in order, nonetheless,” Grillet suggested with a sly smile. “If you would wait outside, Monsieur Wilder?”
“I think not,” Sean growled menacingly. “If she says she is fine, then she is fine.” He handed the doctor several bills, neatly folded. “For your trouble. Good night.”
The curt dismissal prompted a Gallic shrug from Grillet and an inner squeal of delight from Laura. She hugged her arms over her chest to calm her heart. Her husband acted like a smitten lover. She didn’t even mind if he was pretending. The very fact that he troubled himself to assume such a role told her that he cared.
“You were wonderful!” she said once the doctor had gone.
“More like ridiculous,” he declared, sinking onto the bed and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
Laura started to reassure him, but when she leaned forward away from the pillows, her head spun dangerously. He noticed when she swayed to one side and righted her with his hands on her shoulders. “Lie back. And don’t worry, it’s just the effect of the laudanum. I promise that’s all it is.”
“Laudanum!” She bolted upright and nearly screeched the word.
“I had the cook add a bit to your tea. It will calm your stomach and allow you to rest well tonight.”
“I will not be drugged! Not ever!” Laura fumed. “How dare you lace my tea without so much as a by-your-leave? Don’t you understand? I want awareness, Sean. Every single moment, I want to know exactly—”
“Oh, Laura,” he said, shifting nearer and sliding his arms around her loosely. “Never again, I promise you. Damn it all, I should have known better. I didn’t think.”
“Will you hold me?” she asked, burying her nose in the soft wool of his jacket and pulling him closer. “I was afraid today,” she whispered the words, barely hearing them herself. “I hate being afraid!”
“I know,” he answered. She thought she heard a slight catch in his voice. “Everything will be all right,” he added. “You’ll see.”
“You won’t leave when I sleep, will you?” Laura hated herself for clinging, but the night ahead frightened her witless. What if she simply drifted off into nothingness and stayed there forever?
“I won’t leave you,” he promised fervently. His lips pressed against her temple and hovered there as he spoke. “I vow I won’t leave you, Laura. Not even for a minute.”
With a sigh of relief, she let the reality