Chapter 5

Five

T he door creaked open as Emily stepped into Nicolas’s chamber, a servant carrying a tray laden with steaming broth, hearty stew, freshly baked bread, and a strawberry tart behind her. The comforting aroma of the food mingled with the scents of beeswax and firewood enveloping the room.

Propped against the pillows, his hair neatly combed, Mr. Winters looked better than he had since he’d arrived at Gilford Manor. His eyes, though weary, gleamed with determination, and the flush of fever had left his face.

“I trust you are feeling better this evening?” Emily inquired, offering a gentle smile as she placed her hand on his forehead. “I daresay the fever has broken.”

“Indeed. And I must say, your presence alone has been most restorative,” he replied, his voice hoarse but still carrying that teasing lilt she had come to recognize. His grin, though weary, held the playful charm of a man who was not entirely helpless, despite appearances.

Emily chuckled softly as she fluffed the pillows behind him, her hand brushing his shoulder as she adjusted the tray. She withdrew quickly, the casual intimacy of the moment startling her, though she did her best to keep her composure.

As she helped Nicolas sit up, he watched her, a look of curiosity flickering in his gaze. He had become dependent on this woman, a stranger who had taken him in, cared for him, and shown him a kindness that went beyond mere duty. He found himself drawn to her quiet strength and compassion, though he could not yet fathom why.

With Nicolas settled, Emily gestured for the servant to reveal the tray. The smell of broth and warm bread made his stomach growl in protest. She laughed softly. Her laughter eased the quiet tension between them, soothing the moment.

“It seems your appetite is well and truly back.” Amusement lit her face. “That is certainly a good sign.”

Nicolas grinned, his familiar roguish charm flickering to life. “Under your care, I am feeling quite restored. I daresay, I find myself craving more than just food.”

Emily felt her cheeks warm at his boldness, and she turned to arrange the tray over his lap, using the task as a distraction from the quickening of her pulse. The servant curtsied and quietly departed, leaving the two of them alone in the room. The atmosphere grew heavier with the silence, the weight of their shared glances and unspoken words settling like a fine mist over them.

“Well, Mr. Winters,” Emily said, her voice breaking the quiet as she attempted to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “I do hope you will find this meal to your liking. Cook has been most attentive.”

Amusement softened his features, but there was something deeper there as well—something more earnest than his usual lighthearted charm. “I have no doubt it will be delightful,” he said, his tone softer now. “Though, if I may be so bold, it is your company that I truly find nourishing.”

“You are incorrigible.” She averted her attention to the tray.

Though his words carried their usual teasing tone, there was something different in his gaze. A depth, a gratitude that he hadn’t allowed to surface until now. He cleared his throat, his eyes softening as he met her gaze.

She saw a vulnerability in his expression that made her breath catch. It was in that moment she realized how deeply this man affected her. In a short handful of days, their lives had become intertwined by an unexpected twist of fate, and she could not help but feel the stirrings of something unfamiliar, something dangerous and compelling.

She had always prided herself on her self-control, her ability to care without attachment. But with Nicolas, something was different. It was more than compassion—it was the unsettling realization that she wanted to care for him, in a way that went beyond simple human kindness.

He took a tentative bite of the broth, his hand trembling slightly as he lifted the spoon. Emily watched as he swallowed, her heart lifting in quiet triumph at this small victory in his recovery. She allowed herself to admire the powerful lines of his face, the way his jaw tightened as he concentrated on the simple act of eating.

“Is it to your liking, Mr. Winters?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity.

He nodded, his lips curling into a playful smirk. “It is divine. However, your kindness has done more to restore me than any meal could. For that, I am forever in your debt.”

Emily shook her head, her chestnut hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window. “There is no debt to be paid. I only did what any decent person would have done.”

But even as she spoke, Emily knew that was not entirely true. She had gone beyond what was expected of her—perhaps far beyond it—and though she told herself it was merely compassion that drove her, there was another feeling growing within her that she did not dare name.

As Nicolas continued to eat, her mind turned back to the letter she had found in his coat pocket. The smudged ink and the urgency of its words had been lingering at the back of her thoughts since she had first read it. She knew it was improper to pry, but her curiosity would not be quelled, and she could no longer justify withholding the note from him.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the letter, her fingers brushing the folded parchment as she gathered the courage to broach the subject.

“Mr. Winters,” she began carefully, “shortly after you were brought here, I discovered this letter in your coat. It is addressed to you and speaks of an urgent matter, though parts of it are damaged.”

He set his spoon down, his brow furrowing as he took the letter from her. Their fingers brushed for the briefest moment, sending a jolt through Emily’s arm that she was not prepared for. She withdrew her hand quickly, watching as he scanned the contents of the letter, his expression darkening with concern that soon turned to confusion.

“It seems there is trouble brewing at home,” he said, half to himself. “A matter I must attend to as soon as I am able, though I fear I am in no condition to travel, and I fear I do not recall what the matter entails.”

Emily’s heart tightened at the worry etched into his features. She instinctively reached out, her hand resting on his arm in a gesture of reassurance. “Whatever it is, I am certain it can wait until you have recovered. And I will ensure you regain the strength to face it.”

Nicolas looked up at her then, his gaze locking onto hers with a gratitude so deep it took her breath away.

The room grew quiet again, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The winter sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows and bathing the room in a soft amber glow. Emily sat beside him, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, drawing strength from the steady heat of his skin beneath her fingertips.

For the first time, Nicolas felt a vulnerability that he had not allowed himself to acknowledge since his arrival. Emily’s kindness, her unwavering care, had touched something within him, something he had long buried beneath layers of charm and mischief. He had been wrong to think himself undeserving of such tenderness, and as he gazed at the woman beside him, he knew he wanted more from her. If only for a fleeting moment.

“Lady Gilford,” he began, his voice quiet but resolute, “I know I am an unrepentant rake, but I find myself without the words to properly express my gratitude. You have shown me a compassion that goes beyond mere duty, and I am truly humbled by it.”

The weight of his words enveloped her, their sincerity stirring emotions she had long kept at bay. She had done what she believed to be right, but it was more than that now. It had become personal.

“You owe me nothing, Nicolas,” she replied softly, her gaze lowering to where their hands now rested together. “I did what I felt was right.” Her cheeks warmed at her boldness.

“All the same, I am forever in your debt, Emily.”

His name on her lips filled her with longing, and she swallowed hard.

The silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken realization that they had crossed a boundary, that something had shifted in the space between them. Emily, suddenly aware of the intimacy of their situation, gently withdrew her hand and smoothed the fabric of her skirts, seeking to regain her composure.

Nicolas, too, sensed the change in the air, though he was not inclined to retreat from it as she had. He cleared his throat, his gaze drifting to the window where the fading sunlight bathed the room in warm hues. “It seems we must both adjust to the rather unusual nature of our acquaintance,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

She allowed herself a smile in return, the tension between them easing slightly. “Indeed. Fate, it appears, has a peculiar way of bringing people together.”

Nicolas’s eyes sparkled with renewed energy as he leaned back against the pillows, his gaze never leaving hers. “You have been far too modest. It is clear to me that you are no ordinary woman, and I find myself wishing to know you better.”

She felt her heart skip at his praise, though she knew better than to fall for the flattery of a notorious rogue. “Mr. Winters,” she countered, her tone light but firm, “I assure you, I am quite ordinary. Merely a woman who could not, in good conscience, leave a man to suffer alone.”

He laughed, the sound low and rich, filling the room with a warmth that made her heart race. “Ah, but that is where you are wrong, dear lady,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “In a world filled with self-interest, your selflessness stands out like a beacon. You are quite extraordinary.”

Her breath hitched, caught off guard by the intensity of his perusal and the sincerity in his words. She had never thought of herself as anything remarkable, but in that moment, under his scrutiny, she wondered if perhaps there was more to her than she had ever allowed herself to believe.

As his words hung in the air, a shift occurred between them. The room, once filled with quiet formality, now pulsed with a new tension, one that neither could name but both felt deep in their bones. His gaze held a depth that spoke of vulnerability, of gratitude, and perhaps something more dangerous.

“I owe you a debt.” His hand moved to cover hers where it lay on her lap. His touch was gentle, but it sent a current of warmth through her that she could not ignore. “When you are ready, name your price. I assure you that you will have whatever it is you desire.”

Emily’s breath caught, her heart pounding as she met his gaze. “You owe me nothing,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

His fingers tightened around hers, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that made her feel as though he could see straight into her soul. “You saved my life, and for that, I owe you more than I can ever repay.” His gaze lingering on hers. “You have shown me a kindness I did not expect... and one I will not forget.”

The air between them thickened. Every breath she took felt more pronounced. His fingers, still resting against hers, were a reminder of just how fragile the line between duty and desire was. Emily had never imagined that caring for this man, a stranger in every sense of the word, would lead to this—a moment of connection so profound it left her breathless.