Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Awhimper awoke Richard. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
For what seemed like hours he lay stiffly, worried that he might roll over and injure Jane.
He checked his position. He held her lightly about her waist, their fingers intertwined.
Jane’s back rested against his chest, supporting her shoulder as much as he could.
He’d been amazed by the ease with which she had fallen asleep once they found a comfortable position for her. His awkwardness at the moment he climbed into her bed likely prolonged her pain. Equal parts fear and desire to comfort made his first movements stiff as he held her.
Jane woke up once earlier in the night, upset with the darkened room.
Richard added a log to the fire which burned low now but still gave light enough that he could see her lashes resting against her cheeks.
The minimal light would have to do for now.
He would order a shaded lantern for tomorrow night.
She would not wake to terrifying darkness again.
Anger at his half-brother grew. A day in a cold, windowless room would be returned in kind as Duncan awaited trial with the maid and another supposed half-brother Richard had not known about until this very night.
Not that such a thing could be doubted, Geoff almost perfectly resembled Duncan, and they shared their father’s eyes.
Richard was thankful to have his mother’s eyes and dark hair.
Another quiet whimper escaped Jane. Pain he could not heal or take away escaped through her lips. Richard shifted a half an inch to be sure he supported the injured shoulder.
Jane’s quiet breathing returned, and Richard relaxed. He had never spent the night holding a woman before, just to hold her. Ethel had always insisted he leave her room, or she left his after they spent time together in bed.
There was something extremely intimate about the trust she put in him and the desire she had for him to stay with her. He had never felt more needed. Perhaps this is what Micheal’s list had meant by “and AFTER.”
Of course, there had been nothing of the before nature tonight, nor would there be for at least a week. The doctor had gone out of his way to be clear on that point of Jane’s recovery while stitching Richard’s cut.
A tiny mew escaped Jane. Not so much pain this time as something else.
I knew you would come.
The words warmed him in a way he could not describe.
Her unexpected request for him to stay with her.
Her hand gripping his.
Last week, when he said, “I love you,” he had been wrong.
Or not exactly right, as he loved her more today than he could describe.
All day he teetered on the edge of madness, not knowing where she was or if she was safe.
Wishing he had tried harder to break through the wall she had built to protect herself from Felton with his cruel words that she had come to believe.
She moaned again softer. Richard wished he could do anything to help her.
As her breathing evened out again, he relaxed and whispered into her hair. “I love you, my darling Jane.”
Then, remarkably, he joined her in slumber.
The peaceful warmth that surrounded Jane was at odds with the ache in her shoulder. One coaxed her back to slumber, the other insisting for relief in whatever form she could offer. She leaned back against the pillow. The softness of down was not as firm. George?
No.
Richard.
She had asked him to — Jane pinched her lips together to prevent the gasp.
Where had she gotten the audacity to request such a thing?
A lady did not beg her husband to sleep with her.
There were reasons why husbands and wives did not share rooms. Even if Phil could not explain the common arrangement.
Richard had been so willing and kind. Arranging pillows, holding her in the way that lessened the hurt in her aching shoulders. Shielding her from nightmares that never started. Or nearly. She recalled waking to a darkened room, unsure whose arms were around her.
She had asked a duke, a duke! to put a log on the fire for more light. Aunt Healand would shake her head in despair of such an action. The ton would be mortified. Even Phil might be shocked. Not that she would ever tell a soul.
Light crept around the edge of the window curtains. She slept well past dawn. The time when her husband was normally up and enjoying his morning ride. Instead, he was in her bed. Sleeping.
What would Francis, no Martha, think when she came in? Had the maid already been in? Had she seen them? Worse yet, what would the valet think to not find the Duke in his chambers?
Perhaps she could slip out of bed. He would still be in her room…
Slipping her right hand from Richard’s hold, Jane reached for the edge of the bed to pull herself away from his side. She only moved a fraction of an inch when his breathing changed. Jane closed her eyes, knowing he too was awake.
“Good morning.” His voice was deep and gravely. His lungs expanded against her back and the arm around her waist shifted. “How do you feel?”
Mortified? She squeezed her eyes shut tight, hoping not to answer.
His chuckle rumbled through her. “Are you trying to hide from me?”
She opened her eyes and let out the breath that had frozen in her lungs. “No. I am so embarrassed though.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to stay. A wife is not supposed to do that.”
“Why ever not? If a wife cannot ask her husband to hold her when she has had the most harrowing day, then who is she to ask?” Richard moved back a few inches, allowing Jane to roll on to her back.
He was so close, head propped on one elbow, looking at her with one of his serious gazes, but his face was all soft and welcoming.
“I did not think it proper.”
Richard ran a finger down the side of her face, clearing it of the hair that escaped her braid. The smallest of swirls formed. “I think it is very proper. I quite enjoyed the experience.”
“You did, but um—”
His finger moved to her lips, keeping them from saying anything more. “I enjoyed that you needed me and trusted me to give you comfort.”
She searched his eyes, wishing for more light in the room to see them properly. This was not how being with him was supposed to be. At least not according to Phil’s explanations, although her sister had confided that Michael often stayed in her room until dawn.
Richard rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. “You are thinking very hard. What has you so worried?”
She hated that she could not hide her thoughts completely from him. “I asked you to put a log on the fire.”
“You remember that?”
“You are a duke.”
“I am aware. You are a duchess. I believe our wedding vows put me at your command.”
Her mouth popped open, allowing an “oh” of surprise to escape.
Richard smiled in response. He leaned over further, cupping her cheek with his hand.
Swirls that had been patiently turning in the background collected in her cheek, and she leaned into his palm, his warmth, and his strength.
For weeks she thought this moment would be embarrassing, she in her nightclothes, he in his, in a bed with their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath.
Instead, there was a perfect balance of belonging and longing.
“You accused me of lying to you last week when I said I loved you—”
“I know you were not, I—
He hushed her with a look. “Allow me to finish.”
Jane nodded against his palm.
“I thought I was telling the truth then, but what I have felt this past day when you were missing and last night as I held you make my former feelings small in comparison. You are the dearest thing I have in my life. If Duncan had proposed a ransom, I would have paid any amount. Even if it meant losing the dukedom. I only wanted you safe with me again.”
He searched her eyes. Then blinked several times. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, deeper, slower. “When you said you knew I would come—” he paused, “I wanted to hold you forever. You believed in me.”
There was a tear. Jane was sure she saw it glisten on his cheek before he pressed his lips to the spot between her brows where he claimed to see her worry. She more than believed that he would come to find her. She knew. How could she explain?
Richard moved back to resting in his propped head position, the hand on her cheek released.
Jane moved her right hand to hold his hand in place against her face, wanting to keep the connection.
“Yesterday morning in the schoolroom, I decided that I had been wrong. Well, not then precisely, I had known for days I should not have run from the room. That you had not lied, but I did not know how to —” The words came in such a rush she had to pause to form them into a proper sentence.
“I made up my mind that I would come to you that night and tell you how much I missed you and ask you to—” Heat burned her face.
“Oh, Jane.”
The slightest of pressure reminded her of his hand upon her cheek. She turned her head and placed a kiss in his palm. Willing the touch of her lips to convey what her voice could not. Tears leaked out of her own eyes, but she had no reason for them.
“Though I flinched, I was not afraid,” she said quietly. “Never of you. Not once. My heart knew to trust you and to love you, even if my mind could not accept the truth that I do love you and accept the love you have so unselfishly offered.”
She kissed his palm again before his disappeared behind her head, moving her to an angle to see his eyes.
“My dearest, I would kiss you now, but I am afraid if I do, I will not stop.”
“I would not wish you to.”
“The physician warned me that your shoulder should not be jostled. Once we are both dressed, I promise you a very thorough, but careful kissing.”
Jane blinked at him trying to give what he did not say meaning. “We must wait?”
“I am afraid we must wait for a week at least.”
The disappointment mingled with the pain of her shoulder, which had increased in her present position. She nodded. “I must admit my shoulder pains me. Much more now than when I awoke in your arms.”
“Then will you allow me the privilege of sleeping as we did each night as you heal?”
She smiled up into his eyes. “I can be quite content with that.”