Chapter 22 #2
“Then we need a compromise.” His tone took on that note of ducal authority she was learning to recognize. “Something that ensures proper medical care without forcing you to abandon your principles entirely.”
“What sort of compromise?”
“I’ll arrange for a qualified physician to be available whenever any of the children fall ill. Someone with proper training and experience who can assess the situation and determine the appropriate course of treatment.”
Proper training and experience. Unlike my amateur efforts.
“That would certainly be better for them,” she admitted reluctantly. “A real physician would have knowledge and resources I lack.”
“Exactly.” Hugo stepped closer, his burning stare holding hers with uncomfortable intensity.
“And in exchange, you promise not to take unnecessary risks with your own health. No more entering buildings full of sick children without proper precautions. No more administering treatments without medical supervision.”
“Very well,” she said slowly. “I can accept those terms.”
“Good.” But instead of looking satisfied by her agreement, Hugo’s expression grew even more serious. “Because I need you to understand something, Sybil. I could not survive losing you.”
“You won’t lose me,” she said softly. “I’m not Caroline. I’m not fragile or prone to illness, and I would never… that is, I would never make the choice she made.”
“Wouldn’t you?” His words were rough with emotion she didn’t entirely understand.
“Because in my experience, people who dedicate their lives to caring for others often value everyone’s welfare above their own.
They take risks they shouldn’t take, make sacrifices they shouldn’t make, all in the name of helping those who need them. ”
He’s talking about more than medical treatment. He’s talking about the way I’ve lived my entire adult life.
“That’s not the same thing,” she protested.
“Isn’t it?” Hugo reached out suddenly, catching her hands before she could hide them again. “When was the last time you did something purely for your own pleasure? When did you last make a decision based on what you wanted rather than what others needed?”
I can’t answer that. Because the truth is, I don’t remember.
His thumbs brushed across her knuckles gently, despite the intensity of his gaze. “These hands tell the story of someone who gives everything and asks for nothing in return. Someone who puts everyone else’s needs before her own.”
Don’t look at them. Don’t let him see how rough and scarred they are.
“They’re just hands,” she said, trying to pull away.
“No.” His grip tightened, not painful but implacable. “They’re the hands of a woman who’s been taking care of everyone but herself for eight years. Who has forgotten that she deserves care and consideration and protection.”
“I don’t need—”
“You need it whether you want it or not.” His dark gaze burned with something that made her pulse race. “And I need to give it to you, whether you understand why or not.”
Need to give it to me. Not want to but need to.
“Hugo, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that keeping you safe has become essential to my peace of mind.” His voice dropped to that low register that always made her stomach flutter. “I’m saying that the thought of losing you terrifies me in ways I’m not prepared to examine.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.
“Aren’t you?” His thumbs continued their gentle assault on her knuckles, sending fire racing up her arms. “Because sometimes I look at you and see someone who’s still waiting for permission to want things for herself.
Someone who’s convinced herself she doesn’t deserve the very happiness she works so hard to provide for others. ”
That’s not… that’s not true.
Is it?
“I want things,” she said weakly.
“Do you?” Hugo leaned closer, close enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “What do you want, Sybil? Right now, in this moment, what do you want that has nothing to do with duty or responsibility or taking care of others?”
You. I want you to keep looking at me like I’m precious instead of convenient. I want you to touch me the way you did in the garden. I want to stop fighting this attraction and see where it leads.
“I want…” She started then stopped, color flooding her cheeks.
“Yes?” His voice was silk and velvet, encouragement and challenge all at once.
“I want the chamomile to finish cooling, so I can drink it,” she said desperately, grasping for safe ground.
Hugo’s mouth curved in a smile that was pure masculine satisfaction. “Liar.“
He knows. Somehow, he always knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“It’s the truth.”
“Is it?” He released one of her hands to cup her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek with devastating gentleness.
“Because your heart is hammering, your breathing has quickened, and you’re looking at me like you want to discover what would happen if you stopped being so careful about maintaining proper boundaries. ”
Stop reading my mind. Stop seeing things I don’t want you to see.
“I’m tired,” she managed though her voice came out breathless and unconvincing. “It’s been a long evening.”
“It has.” But instead of taking the hint and leaving, Hugo moved closer, his hand still cradling her face. “Long and revealing and entirely too complicated for a simple marriage of convenience.”
Simple marriage of convenience. As if anything about our relationship could be called simple.
“Hugo—”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I know this isn’t what either of us planned. I know we agreed to keep things practical and uncomplicated. But standing here, watching you try to convince yourself you don’t feel what’s building between us…”
“Nothing’s building,” she lied.
“No?” His eyes held hers captive. “Then why is your pulse racing beneath my fingers? Why are you trembling? Why do you look like you want me to kiss you more than you want your next breath?”
Because I do. God help me, I do want that more than anything else in the world right now.
“I should drink my tea,” she said desperately.
“Should you?” Hugo’s thumb brushed across her lower lip, sending shockwaves through her entire body. “Or should you finally admit that our practical arrangement has evolved into something we never anticipated?”
Something we never anticipated. Something dangerous and wonderful and terrifying.
Before she could formulate a response, before she could think of another excuse or deflection, Hugo was stepping back with obvious reluctance.
“Drink your tea,” he said quietly. “Sleep well. And Sybil?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For tonight, for Rosalie, for… everything.”
Instead of leaving, Hugo moved closer, his amber eyes holding hers with uncomfortable intensity. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with possibilities neither had quite acknowledged yet.
“Sybil,” he said softly, his voice rough with barely leashed control.
“Hugo,” she whispered back, and somehow, they were moving toward each other like moths to flame, drawn by something stronger than rational thought.
His hands came up to frame her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone with devastating gentleness. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the way his pupils had dilated in the lamplight.
“I should—” she began then stopped, her voice catching as he took another step closer.
“Should what?” His voice was silk and velvet, encouragement and challenge all at once.
But even as the words left his lips, even as she found herself leaning into his touch, her foot caught the edge of the small tea table beside her chair.
She stumbled backward, reaching out instinctively to steady herself, and sent the delicate porcelain cup crashing to the floor in a symphony of destruction.
The spell between them shattered along with the china.
Hugo stepped back immediately, running a hand through his hair with visible frustration. “I should go,” he said roughly. “This was… We shouldn’t…”
“No,” she agreed breathlessly though her heart was still hammering against her ribs. “We shouldn’t.”
But neither moved for a long moment, both staring at the broken cup as though it represented something far more significant than spilled tea.
“Goodnight, Sybil,” Hugo said finally, his voice carefully controlled once more.
“Goodnight.”
And then he was gone, leaving her alone with her thundering heart and the uncomfortable realization that whatever was building between them had just become infinitely more complicated.