Chapter Thirteen
Feeling Woozy
Part One
One of the most natural, irksome sounds was that of chirping birds at five in the morning. Groaning, Marguerite buried her head of dark hair further in the pillow and screamed, disturbing her husband from his own restless sleep. "It's too damn early," she whined, her nose pressing into the pillow so hard she could feel the mattress. "Shut them up, John!"
"What do you expect me to do," he responded groggily, rolling onto his stomach, flinging his arm over her slender waist.
"Shoot them! Shoot every last one of them!"
Roxton chuckled then yawned. "Marguerite, if they annoy you so much then you go shoot them."
"I'm not getting up until I smell coffee," she mumbled.
He snorted, leaning over to place a lazy kiss on the top of her head. "Ok, you royal pain in the arse. I'll fetch you some coffee. I know what you're like without your daily dose of poison."
She flipped over, grabbing his arm as he went to crawl off the mattress. "Not now, John. It's too early. You can get me coffee later. Right now, we need to sleep."
"How about I make you some herbal tea instead? It'll help relax you."
"Mmm, fine, I suppose." She released her hold, her arm flopping onto the bed. "Don't be too long."
He smiled, pulling on a fresh shirt before wading off to the kitchenette. She tried to act so independent – and she was – but he knew that she secretly despised being left alone, especially now that she was used to his presence in her bed.
Feeling amused with himself, he went about preparing her tea. He wasn't bitter about yesterday. Last night he had discovered – after returning from shutting off the water – why she had been in such a sour mood: after three months of a no show, she was having her cycle again. Living in such harsh conditions had placed a strain on her monthly cycle, sometimes going four or five months without her menstruation. So when it did rear its ugly head, it usually came with a vengeance.
He tasted the warm liquid, making sure it wasn't too hot. Satisfied, he wondered back into their room, offering the cup out to her as though it were pearls. "Here, darling, drink some of this. It'll soothe you in no time."
Part Two
Still feeling woozy, Marguerite managed to shuffle to the living room, her hair entangled and her cheeks puffy. Veronica stared at her worriedly from her easel. "Marguerite, are you feeling ok? You've been asleep all day. Roxton told us not to bother you."
"What time is it?" Marguerite collapsed onto a wicker chair, her eyes slipping shut once more.
"Almost dinner time. Roxton and Malone went to collect from the garden." Veronica gently placed her brush down – it was one of her last – and got up from her chair. "Is something wrong?"
"Yeah," Marguerite snarled. "That little toad drugged me."
"Who?"
"Who do you think? My darling husband." She wasn't able to vent much more for in a moment, she was out cold.
Veronica shook her head. "Those two," she muttered before heading off to set the table.
End Chapter Thirteen