Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“What will you be having, Your Grace?” the butler asked Philip as he sat himself down at the breakfast table.
“Hmm?” He looked over his shoulder, not surprised to find one of the members of staff there waiting to serve him. His mind had been elsewhere…
“For breakfast, Your Grace. What are you hungry for?”
A wicked smile flashed across Philip’s face, because there was just the one thing that would satisfy his hunger. And he doubted very much that the kitchen would be capable of producing it.
Perhaps later. Assuming that is, that Iris deserves such a thing. Then again, even if she does not, won’t that make it all the better?
He felt his mouth salivate at the thought. Red hot blood pumped through his body. His crotch turned stiff, and he was forced to shift himself because of the way his manhood pressed against his pants.
It was not a surprising reaction. In fact, since yesterday, he couldn’t even count on his two hands how many times he’d turned hard just picturing Iris in his head. Not what he had expected. Not even what he wanted—or so he told himself.
Is it time to stop pretending?
Was it time for the two of them to admit how much they wanted one another?
Philip had spent all evening considering the situation at hand, still not entirely certain what to do.
That they were attracted to each other was obvious and he knew beyond a doubt that what happened yesterday was but the tip of the iceberg, and that there was little in this world that would stop them from exploring just how deep their desires ran.
Alas, it wasn’t nearly that simple either.
Sexual attraction was one thing, but this wasn’t some romantic fling or summer fancy. This was a marriage, Iris was his wife, and if they continued down this path without addressing the future, who knew what dangers might lurk that neither could see coming.
To pursue their attraction would be fun, but it might lead to a more serious situation from which they could not untangle themselves. A true marriage… which in Philip’s mind was the last thing he wanted.
There was a good reason that Philip did not want to marry in the first place.
One that went beyond a mere dismissal of the concept.
His past… memories from his youth that shaped him…
a distrust of not just the institution of marriage but of women, of love and romance, because from his experience all it brought was pain.
For that reason, Philip decided that he needed to be strong. For a while, at least. Kissing her was one thing. Tempting her was another. But to go beyond that… Philip was only so self-controlled, and he feared what would happen if they found themselves in the same situation again.
Might this marriage lead to something beyond the expected? Happiness and romance and even love? No… such things as that are impossible, so why even think it.
It was confusing to be sure and were it not for how much he wanted Iris, Philip would have surely gone back to ignoring her as was his original plan. His past, the torrid history which haunted him and guided every decision he made, demanded it.
A shame then that he did want her. So, so much…
“I will wait for my wife to join me,” Philip answered the butler. “In fact, will you check on her for me? See when she is coming down.”
“Right away, Your Grace.” The butler bowed deeply and scurried off.
Philip spent the next few minutes preparing himself. He was determined not to see this morning turn into another fight. To not let his blood rise and his desires for Iris take hold. He needed to control himself—to prove that he could! Only then might he have his answer.
That was the plan, but when he spied the butler scurrying back into the breakfast room, he knew it would be for nought.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Where is Her Grace?”
The butler grimaced. “I am afraid that she will not be joining you.”
“She said this?”
“She did, Your Grace.”
Philip felt his anger brimming, the first thought to reach him that she was purposefully spurning him. Was it on purpose? Did she do so because she wanted him to punish her again? And would that be such a bad thing…
“Did she give a reason?” he managed to ask.
“I am afraid that she has been taken ill, Your Grace,” the butler explained. “I spoke to her just now and she is still in bed.”
“Ill…” The anger left Philip, replaced by worry.
It was a strange sensation, that he was driven to panic suddenly about his wife’s well-being.
He should not have cared. If anything, he should have felt relieved that this was the reason she hadn’t come down.
But for reasons he did not fully understand, nor did he try to, he worried that her sickness was his fault.
Was I too cruel to her yesterday? What if she is not truly sick and she is just angry with me? I thought I made my reasons clear, and that she understood them. But perhaps I grossly misinterpreted the situation…
He bit into his lower lip as he tried to curb the panic. He told himself it did not matter to him, why should he care if she did not react to yesterday how he expected her to. That thought should have brought relief, his question answered, back now to ignoring her as was his original plan.
And yet… Philip could not break from the thought that he had done something wrong. More than that, he needed to check on her.
It was as if his body moved without his command. He rose from the table and strode from the breakfast room. Up the stairs, down the hall, and soon he was approaching her bedroom. Dammit, he wanted to make sure that she was fine and that he had not caused whatever this was.
He knocked gently on the door. “Iris…”
“Come in,” she spoke from the other side, her voice weak.
He pushed the door open, and he breathed out with relief when he saw her. She was still in bed, the curtains to the room drawn, the atmosphere dark and heavy and telling him without the need to ask that she was not doing this to avoid him. That she was indeed sick.
“You are… what happened?” he asked, staying by the door as if afraid to go in. Afraid to show that he was worried about her.
She laughed softly. “Care to take a guess?”
He grimaced. “I… it is not… yesterday…” Philip was ordinarily the type who brimmed with confidence, caring not for the opinion of others or what they might think. But in that moment, he was embarrassed to say how he was feeling.
“No,” she said, her voice weak and hoarse. “It is nothing that you did.”
He felt himself relax. “Good. It was stupid of me, I know, but…” His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he looked away. “That is not important.”
She said nothing to that, but Philip could feel her watching him. No doubt she was as confused by his being there as he was. Considering his insistence that he wanted nothing to do with her he should not have given a damn that she’d taken ill.
But Philip was a complicated fellow. Despite his desires to be left alone, there was a side of him that was caring.
That felt an inborn need to look after those that needed it, because they couldn’t take care of themselves.
It came from his youth, his family… and all the trouble that had caused him.
For that reason, despite everything he had said, still not knowing what he wanted exactly, Philip walked further into the room if for no other reason than to let his wife know that he was there for her.
“You seemed fine yesterday,” he said, his voice soft. “I would have never…” He grimaced when he came closer, because she looked an absolute fright.
Her white skin was pasty and grey. Her dark brown hair was matted from sweat. Her eyes were sunken. Her frame withered. And she coughed lightly, the sound like a shovel being dragged across gravel. So frail… she needed him.
“I was that,” she said, her voice still pitifully weak. “But this…” A shake of the head. “It is not as surprising or random as you might think.”
“What does that mean?”
As fragile as Iris already looked, somehow she managed to appear even more so as she withdrew into herself and shifted further beneath the covers of the bed. “I guess there’s no reason for you to know this about me, but as a child I was sick quite often.”
“You were?” Philip frowned, finding that surprising in one who appeared to him so strong and capable.
She laughed bitterly. “In truth, I was sick more often than I was not. When I was born, until my early teens, it was almost every day. It was my lungs, whatever the cause, I had trouble breathing and could not exert myself for too long otherwise I’d feel weak.”
“And now…”
“Oh, now I am fine.” She smiled with exaggeration and laughed. “At least I am most of the time. But it comes and goes and every now and then, there are days like this one.”
“Iris…” Philip found himself moving toward her. “I am so—”
“Please do not say you are sorry,” she spoke over him. “I got enough of that growing up. My mother would have wrapped me in wool if she’d been able. Sometimes, I wondered if I was as sick as they said I was, or it was just that I was never given a chance to prove otherwise.”
He laughed softly. “Somehow, I think you’ve managed to prove the point well enough by now.”
“Perhaps,” she sighed. “And my mother is a lot better about it—she does not mother me as she used to. But whenever I am with her, there is still the sense that she sees me as the same weak little girl who needs her protection always.” She scoffed.
“Typically, I can’t say or do anything to persuade her from the notion either.
The fact that she allowed me to marry was surprising enough. ”
“I don’t think you are weak,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”
“Truly.” Philip moved to her bed, the urge to sit down beside her and take her hand so strong that he had to fight against it. “I know we have not known one another a long time but…” He shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, at times I think that you are too strong willed.”
She laughed… and then broke into a coughing fit. “You just bring it out in me, I suppose.”
“Shame on me.”
“Yes.” She widened her eyes at him as if in warning, but the expression softened, and she almost looked grateful. “Shame on you.”
Once again, Philip was taken by the urge of protection that lived deep within his soul. Iris might have been one of the most strong-willed women he had ever met, but he sensed that it was a front for something else. That she was compensating for her youth and how she had been treated.
It is no wonder she reacts the way she does to being chastised. I would not be surprised to learn that not once growing up was she ever in trouble.
“I am glad to see that you are not…” He clicked his tongue as he considered how to phrase it. “That this illness won’t be the end of you.”
She laughed. “I like to think I am stronger than that.”
“And here I was, all ready to break my fast with you. When you did not come, I assumed you were angry with me.”
She frowned. “Truly? You… you were waiting for me?”
“I was.”
That surprised her, and she wore that look on her face without trying to mask it. Looking up at him, Philip could sense the way she studied him closely, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Or rather, that she was seeing another side of him.
The truth of the matter is that this wasn’t a new side to Philip.
It wasn’t one he hid from or ignored. The fact of the matter was that until now, he’d had no reason to show it to Iris.
Happy to pretend this marriage meant nothing.
Happier to avoid its consequences and hope that Iris would be of the same mind.
Now… Philip wasn’t so certain what he felt. Or how he should do.
It went without saying that for once, it wasn’t arousal or desire that kept Philip by Iris’ bed. He wasn’t drawn to her in that way, nor would he be with her current state. Rather, he realized in the moment that perhaps he had been coming at this marriage from the wrong position.
Was it worth taking a chance and seeing what might happen if he allowed himself to grow close to Iris? If he gave her a chance? Did he even want such a thing?
Philip didn’t have the answers right now, but he wasn’t as scared to find them as he had been. And this right here, well it felt like a perfect chance to start.
“Are you hungry?” he asked her.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t eat.”
“Some sunlight…” He half turned to the closed curtains. “Perhaps that will help?”
She winced. “In truth, it does not. It makes me feel queasy.”
“How about some company?” he offered instead, pairing the offer with a kind smile. “Surely that won’t make things worse. Even if my company isn’t exactly renowned for bringing comfort.”
“Are you…” She leaned back, her brow furrowing. “Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“You aren’t.”
“Or distract you. I know how you feel about me invading your personal time.”
He laughed. “In this instance, I think I will manage. Besides, with how sickly you are, if you annoy me enough, I can just get up and leave. And it is not as if you will be able to chase me.”
She laughed at the joke, then coughed violently, but held her smile. “True enough,” she wheezed and hammered her stomach to clear the phlegm. “Some company would be lovely.”
And it was too.
For the next few hours, Philip sat by Iris’ bedside. Their conversation remained surface level, both careful not to go too deep and risk upsetting whatever this was. It was such a small thing, Philip knew. And still, he wasn’t certain how he felt about it.
Yet, it feels good, truth be told, but that itself is a problem…
One he would deal with later because for now all he cared about was that Iris would feel better. The good girl that she was, she deserved nothing less.