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Martha gave a disapproving little sniff, but she put aside her darning and rose from her chair. "Very well, miss, but I shall not be long. And you must ring if you need anything."

Kate assured her that she would, and watched with a small smile as the older woman finally left the room. She waited until the sound of her footsteps had disappeared along the corridor before turning towards Herriot, who was rearranging a collection of bottles upon a small table beside the fire.

"Herriot, do you believe his condition is stable? I mean, is Mr Briar comfortable? There is nothing more we ought to be doing for him?"

"Dr Franklin is pleased with his progress, miss. His colour has improved. But he must wake in his own time, I am afraid."

"Yes, that is what everyone keeps telling me," Kate said with a sigh. "Herriot, would you mind stepping into the dressing room for five minutes? There is something I should like to say to Mr Briar, and I would prefer to do so without an audience."

Herriot looked from Kate to his master, unsure what to make of the request. Kate wondered whether she would have to argue with him too. Good heavens, all she wanted was five minutes alone with an unconscious man!

"Very well, miss," he said at last. "I shall be just through the door if you need me."

At last, she was alone with Nathaniel. She took his large hand between her two smaller ones. It was warm and dwarfed her own hands, and she rubbed it gently, feeling the calluses on the pads of his fingers and skimming her thumb over his knuckles. She bent her head to drop a kiss upon it and began to speak quietly.

"Nathaniel Briar, you are an idiot, and that is why it is so very upsetting that I have fallen in love with you. Do you know that swans mate for life, and that their courtship can take place in a matter of weeks? I always thought it a stupid practice, for both humans and swans, that in less than a month two beings can decide to be joined together forever. I mean, what if the one you choose is a terrible snorer or leaves the nest dreadfully untidy? It cannot be undone once it is done. But I must be an idiot too, because I am starting to see the appeal of such an arrangement, and I wish you would wake up so I could tell you that you are an idiot to your face."

She looked at his still face and gave his hand another gentle rub. "Perhaps peacocks would be a more apt comparison. The males put on a great display with all their colourful feathers, and I cannot help but be reminded of you strutting around Pemberley in your ridiculous waistcoats—the green one in particular—and your perfectly coiffed hair. It is a good job you are so handsome, or you would look ridiculous. But I think I am missing the point."

She sighed and looked down at their joined hands. "I am sorry that we argued. I am not sorry that you kissed me, and I am not sorry that I like you and that I have fallen in love with you. And if you would have me, I would follow you around the world, digging in the ground and discovering the wonders it held. We could be like a pair of stupid swans, discovering what vexes us about each other but sticking together because underneath it all, we truly love each other."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away before continuing. "Now, that bang on your head may have brought you to your senses, and you may wake up thinking why on earth you spent any time bothering with the bookish middle daughter who has an obsession with all the nonsense of the world that no one else finds very interesting. And if you do, that is fine. I hope you will go off and have lots of wonderful adventures. But I had to tell you. You must know that I love you, and that it annoys me that I love you, but that I cannot stop. And I want you to be well, whether you are mine or not. You need to wake up and be well."

She gave his hand a little squeeze. "So that is it. I am an idiot, you are an idiot, I love you and you should wake up. Just to be precise and clear about it."

She dropped her head to his hand, feeling utterly miserable. There. She had said everything she had wanted to say, and there was not so much as a twitch of an eyelid in response. Perhaps she really was an idiot, sitting here pouring out her heart to a man who could not hear a word of it.

"I must say, I am most wounded by your opinion of my waistcoats," came a croaky voice from above her.

Kate's head shot up. She stared at Nathaniel, who was still lying with his eyes closed, although there was now a soft smile playing about his mouth. Had he spoken? Surely he could not have. She had been wishing so desperately for him to wake that perhaps she had finally driven herself mad.

"Nathaniel?" she whispered, leaning forward.

"I had thought all of my collection rather fine," he continued in a low, hoarse voice. "Particularly the green one. Herriot assures me it is most becoming."

"Oh, Nathaniel!" Kate cried, almost upsetting her chair as she sprang forward. "You are awake! Oh, thank God, you are awake!"

He opened his eyes then, blinking a few times before managing to focus upon her face. He looked dreadful, and his voice sounded as though he had swallowed a handful of gravel, but there was that familiar twinkle in his eyes, and Kate thought she had never seen anything so wonderful in her life.

"Hello, Cathy," he murmured. "I have been having the strangest dreams. Have I been asleep for long?" He raised a tentative hand to his injured head and winced.

"Three days!" she exclaimed, taking his hand in both of hers. "Three whole days, you dreadful man! I have been worried half to death, and poor Herriot has hardly left your side. And now you wake up and the first thing you do is complain about your waistcoats!"

"Well, you have been most unkind about them," he said, managing a small smile. "I am not sure I can forgive such an attack upon my character. Oh, and might I have some water?"

"Of course! Oh, Nathaniel, I am sorry!" Kate reached for the glass on the bedside table, her hands trembling so badly that she nearly knocked it over. She managed to get it to his lips, but in her eagerness, tipped it too far, sending a stream of water down his chin and onto the bedclothes.

"Oh, good heavens! I am drowning you! I am so sorry!" She snatched the glass away and began dabbing at his chin with a handkerchief, laughing helplessly as tears ran down her cheeks.

Nathaniel managed a weak chuckle. "I have survived a blow to the head, Cathy. I should hate to be finished off by a glass of water."

"Oh, do be quiet, you dreadful man!" she cried, laughing harder. She attempted to wipe her cheeks with her sleeve, but Nathaniel caught her hand and brought it slowly to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her fingers.

"Do not cry, sweetheart," he said softly. "I am here."

That only made her cry harder, and she bent forward, pressing her face against his hand for a moment before collecting herself enough to look at him again.

"I am going to be so very angry with you when you are better," she informed him, attempting to sound stern despite the tears still trickling down her face. "Stomping around on top of the mound in a storm! Whatever possessed you to do such a foolish thing?"