Chapter Thirteen
Joy knew she should be ashamed of herself, but she wasn’t.
Snuggled with Jansen in the small bed, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder, she smiled as she listened to the steady rain pattering against the window.
The tempest had blown itself out—much like she and Jansen had loved each other into a delightful, boneless weariness.
It had to be close to dawn, and she knew she should sleep, but she didn’t want to miss a moment of this languid deliciousness. No wonder mothers watched their daughters so closely. They knew they had to keep them from this unbelievably wondrous pleasure until after they had said, “I do.”
She eased in a deep breath, mesmerized by the shadows dancing along the walls, the room only lit by the fire in the hearth. The candle had burned out long ago, but it didn’t matter. No amount of darkness or shadow could ever keep them from finding one another after this.
Jansen twitched, making her wonder what he was dreaming.
His soft snores of earlier had stopped, replaced by erratic breathing and soft groans.
Maybe he was dreaming about what they had just done?
But then he shifted with more urgency, as if something pained him.
Was she hurting him? She hadn’t realized she was on his scarred shoulder.
She tried to move, but his arm tightened around her. “Jansen? Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer. His breathing became pained gasps. He wheezed as if stricken with consumption. A faint sheen of sweat peppered across his brow. “No!” He lashed out with a rumbling growl. “You will not!”
A bad dream. It had to be a bad dream. “Jansen!” She tried to shake him, but he shoved her away so hard it shocked her. “Jansen! You must wake up!” she shouted, cowering back against the wall.
He went still. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not.
Then he rolled out of the bed and went to the fireplace, leaning against it with both hands splayed on the stone chimney, breathing hard as if he had just run a race. “Did I hurt you?” he rasped without turning.
“No,” she said, then decided to be truthful. “You merely frightened me when you shoved me away. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to wake you.”
He whirled about and dropped to his knees beside the bed. “Forgive me, my angel. I beg you, forgive me.”
“You did not hurt me. I was afraid for you. Are you all right? Was it a bad dream? Are you unwell?”
He rolled from his knees to his arse and sat on the floor, dropping his head into his hands. “Demons of war. They come for me every night and try to kill me on that damn battlefield.”
“Every night?”
“Every night.” He raked his hands through his hair. “That is why after we marry, you will have your own room, and I will have mine. I never want to hurt you, my love, and I fear I very well might.”
While she didn’t much like the sound of that, she wouldn’t argue the point now.
She was more concerned about his welfare.
“How do you live with no sleep?” He hadn’t been asleep that long, no more than an hour or so.
If he went through this every night, how in the world did he survive? “Are you not exhausted all the time?”
“I have adapted, I suppose. What else could I do?”
“And nothing helps you? Laudanum? Whisky?” There had to be a way for him to block the demons out.
“Laudanum makes them worse, and it takes more whisky to numb them than I care to drink. I refuse to be a stinking sot.”
She patted the spot beside her. “Come back to bed. I am not afraid now that I know what troubles you. I simply wish I could somehow help.”
“Not yet. Not for a while. It would be best if I stayed right here on the floor.” He sat there with his head in his hands. “Do you hate me?” he finally asked after what felt like forever.
“Hate you? For something over which you have no control? Absolutely not.” She yanked the blanket free, wrapped it around herself, and got onto the floor beside him. “That would be like you hating me for having blue eyes.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then whispered, “I do not deserve you.”
“Teetering pedestals, sir. Remember how I feel about teetering pedestals.”
“I do not deserve you,” he repeated, even more slowly.
“I love you, Jansen. Nothing can change that. I swear it.”
“Get back in bed, my love. I am not the only one who needs sleep this night.”
“But Jansen—”
“Get back in bed, Joy. Please. Leave me with my demons.”
She did as he asked but didn’t like it. There had to be a way to help him, and by heavens, she would find it.
*
Joy held the front of her corset in place while Jansen tugged on the laces. “Tighter. If you do not pull them tightly enough, the stays do no good. They must support me.”
“How the bloody hell do you breathe?”
“I have often wondered if women absorb the air with their faces or something, because we are unable to take deep breaths due to our corsets.” Something was wrong with him.
Something had changed between them, and not in a good way.
But she would change it back. She refused to have unhappiness squatting between them like an ugly toad, especially after the perfection of last night.
He yanked on the laces harder. “You would bloody well need to absorb the air through somewhere other than your lungs when wearing this ungodly contraption.”
“Jansen, what is wrong?” She turned and caught hold of his hands, trying to force him to look her in the eyes.
He turned away. “What makes you think anything is wrong?”
“You have said bloody twice and ungodly once. It is unlike you to speak in such a manner in front of me.” She tapped a toe on the ray of sunshine stretching across the floor.
“The rain is gone. The sun is shining, and we had an exemplary night. Now tell me, what is wrong? Have I done something to make you unhappy?”
“No!” He jerked back around and took her hands again. Staring down at the floor, he deflated with a heavy sigh. “I am ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“Last night.”
“Forgive me, Jansen. I know I am inexperienced, but in my opinion, you did nothing to be ashamed of.” She cleared her throat and swallowed hard, every part of her becoming very warm and achy with renewed yearning at the memory. “As I said, I consider last night exemplary.”
“My night terrors.”
“Oh.”
“Yes…oh, my lady. Now, do you remember how my demons shoved you away?”
“So, you are angry with me because my eyes are blue, then?”
“Do not be ridiculous.”
“I am never ridiculous. You are the one being ridiculous. You should not be ashamed of something over which you have no control.” It was time to change the subject.
She refused to argue with him after last night.
She tried to fluff out her bonnet, then finally gave up and tossed it onto the bed.
“That is well and truly ruined. And how did it get so muddy? I do not recall standing on my head.”
“Mud was everywhere, my lady.” Jansen went to the window, squinting against the brightness of the day pouring through it. “While you slept, I went downstairs. Copper and the lad are taking a team of oxen to pull the carriage free and bring it here.”
“What about Jasper and Flora?” His silence and expression did nothing to reassure her. “Jansen? What of Jasper and Flora?”
“After I deposit you safely at Wolfebourne, I shall ride out and search for them.”
“I do not like leaving them that long.”
“I know, my darling, but there may be no alternative. The Moselys have nothing but oxen and mules.”
“I see.” She still didn’t like it, but she couldn’t very well expect Jansen to ride out on an ox or a mule, and their team of horses for the carriage were not meant for riding, and also had none of the saddles or tack required that would protect them or him from injury.
“I am sorry. I’m worried about them. As I said last night, they are not just servants. They are friends.”
“I know.” He scrubbed his eyes.
“You kept yourself awake all night while I slept, didn’t you?” She hated this wall he had built between them all because of something he couldn’t control. “Jansen?”
“I shall be fine, my angel. Please…let me handle this the way I need it handled.”
Joy made a mental note to speak with Aurelia and see if she knew of her brother’s problem. Perhaps, between the two of them, they could discover a way to help him. “Jansen?”
He straightened from pulling on his boots. “Yes?”
“I still want to marry you.”
He rewarded her with a weary smile. “And for that, I am grateful.” He offered her his arm. “Let us get you some breakfast and see what the morning has laid at our feet.”
“Probably a great deal more mud. It was still raining when I drifted off.” She took his arm and allowed him to escort her downstairs.
“Good morning, my lady,” Mrs. Mosely called out. “Sit yourself down, and I shall be getting you a fine pot of tea.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mosely. That will be wonderful.”
After a rousing breakfast of breads, beans, mushrooms, and kippers and a visit to the outside privy and the well to wash her hands, Joy felt well and truly refreshed and ready to embrace the day.
She just wished Jansen felt the same. She’d never seen him like this.
Unsmiling. Speaking little. Avoiding eye contact.
The man was drowning in shame, and she knew no way of fixing it.
Copper and Tom, the Mosely lad, had recovered the coach, and thanks to Copper’s quick thinking and abandonment of the vehicle, it was a little muddy, but other than that, quite whole and undamaged. He soon had the team back in place and they were on the road to Wolfebourne Lodge once again.
Joy and Jansen rode along in silence until she could stand it no longer. “When exactly did you intend to tell me we would sleep apart due to your night demons?”
“I had hoped to never tell you. Is it not customary for lords and ladies to sleep in their own rooms?”