Beauty Unseen: The sisters of Folly trilogy (Book One)

Chapter Five: Marital Resolve

A path immediately parted as Rhys carried the unconscious young woman through the sitting room, the crowds watching on with murmurs flitting all around them, stabbing at Rhys as his back tense and he hastened towards the stairway, attempting to shield the woman from their unjust comments of the evening's course of events.

Grace appeared and took the lead, stepping in front of him and into a guest room that already had servants bustling to pull the covers down and light a fire, a bowl of water set down at the head of the bed and cloths to wipe the sweat from the woman's face. "Lay her gently on the bed, brother" Grace instructed him and he laid her against the soft bed, his arms brushing by her overly warm body as he pulled away, his chest shuddering on a breath filled with an emotion he was not prepared to exam. 

He looked on as the maids worked at laying strips of wet cloths against her forehead, he could now finally take a moment to look at her properly, she laid soundlessly and still as a corpse, his heart squeezing at the sight of her pale face. Her features were sharply exaggerated by how drawn she was even when totally at rest. She was beautiful, his head tilted to the side with the realization of how stunned he was by her. A crown of brown curls styled around her head, her sunken cheeks held charming freckles, and her mouth was tempting as subtle breaths passed through the slight parting of her lips. He was deprived of seeing the shocking paleness of her wide, blue eyes but thick, dark lashes fanned across her cheeks. As he took her in it was apparent to him that she was far too thin, her collarbone sticking out and the delicate bones at her wrists and elbows reminding him on the hunger he had seen take those effected by the famine of battles, still he had to admit she had was a tempting and endearing beauty, the kind that could bring men to their knees and drive a man wild with the desire for her to love him.
His head jerking back in surprise at his train of thoughts.

He was pushed away from her while Grace shouldered her way past him, moving to kneel by the bed, dipping a strip of cloth into the water and gently stroking the woman's lovely and yet tired face. "Oh, Wendy " his sister whispered down to the woman, worry wrinkling her brow as she twisting a curl away from Wendy's face and laid it softly against the pillow by her head. "I should have insisted I could see you were unwell." Guilt choked her as she sniffled into a hand she lifted to her chest.

Wendy, knowing her name had warmth spreading through his chest, unconsciously leaning forward to gaze down at her again. He had a sudden eagerness to know everything there was to know about this Wendy, her favorite things, or things she hated, her opinion on all matter and range of things, his heart thudded painfully against his ribcage, and he staggered a step back. He was not known for falling headfirst into anything and yet he was unwaveringly certain of two things at that very moment; he'd give this woman whatever she asked of him, and he'd spend the rest of his life to do it.

"Rhys" Ian called out to him the moment he walked into the room, a physician hot on his heels, who immediately got to work checking Wendy's pulse. Rhys nodded in a jerky movement and followed Ian out of the room with right when the two young, blonde girls that he had seen in the garden rushed past him then door was shut, cutting his view of the chaos ensuing "Her sisters" Ian said in little way of explanation as Rhys continued to stare at the door long after closed.

Another wordless nod and Rhys wondered if he was in shock as he trailed behind Ian down the winding stairs and off to the side of the party, where they entered his study, the wigged man who had previously stood with the vile woman who claimed Wendy as her daughter was seated a bit too comfortably at Ian's desk and failed to stand as they came into the room, drinking heavily from a cup that he slammed onto the solid wood, his sleeve used to wipe the dribble from his wine stained lips and a servant rushing forward to refill as he brandished the goblet his way. His already round chest puffed out and his face turned an alarming red, spittle flying towards them at his slurred exclamation "That man dishonored my daughter!" Rhys could barely hold back the snarl rising in chest with an unconscious step forward, his fist curling at his side. His claimed daughter lay unwell in the home of a random noble and yet her father seemed to have never been more relaxed than he currently was, servants at his beck and call and acting with airs not allotted to him.