Chapter 8 #2
She had to be delirious, utterly out of her mind, because at the sight of his eyes crinkling softly, she felt her stomach flip with—something, anyway. Nerves, excitement, anticipation.
He looked like a different man entirely, all the harshness of his expression wiped away into something entirely more sincere.
This was the man she fancied he could have been, if things in his life had been different.
“He’s cooler,” Andrew whispered, and motioned for her to place the baby in the crib. “Let him rest.”
Jessamine didn’t want to. She wanted to hold him tight, close to her, for as long as possible. She never wanted to let him go, in case something terrible should happen to her.
Andrew’s hand moved to where she supported William’s weight. “Come,” he murmured, absurdly gentle for a man of such sternness. “You must be tired, and he will sleep alone now. You have done all you came here to do.”
Jessamine blinked, but she finally allowed Andrew to guide her to the crib, and she carefully, oh so slowly, placed William within it. He stirred, tiny fists bunched, but then fell still and silent once more.
Jessamine released a slow breath of relief. They had done it. Somehow, they had triumphed. The translucent light of distant sunrise sliced the sky, and William was asleep.
“You are exhausted,” Andrew said. “Let me watch over him, Jessamine. Go to sleep.”
“I’m perfectly well, thank you. I will stay here.” She sank into the chair, wincing as she did so. Her back ached terribly.
“Forgive me for not believing you,” he said dryly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“In that case, stand up and walk to me and assure me that is the case.”
Jessamine glowered at him. Now, she was sitting, she was not at all sure she could stand again without considerable pain, and if she showed any sign of it, he would consider himself vindicated.
“Well?” he prompted. “I’m waiting.”
Jessamine scowled, but attempted to rise before promptly gripping the back of the chair to support her. She hissed a breath through her teeth.
Andrew sighed. “As I thought.” He approached, but Jessamine shrank back. “It’s all right,” he said, his voice reassuring, soothing. The same way he had spoken to William during the height of his fever. “I only want to help.”
Jessamine still hesitated, wary, and he held up both hands as though in surrender.
“All right,” he said. “Keep suffering.”
She bit her lip. He had been in the army, and his men had by his own account, suffered from a number of ailments. She doubted he had been their first port of call, but it was entirely possible he had more experience than she did.
“My back hurts,” she admitted eventually. “I presume from carrying William, and…”
“Yes, I thought so.” His gaze crossed her face. “Turn around.”
Jessamine hesitated again, reluctant to put her back to him, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
They had behaved as a team all that night.
But she couldn’t forget the way he had first approached her for this marriage, and the way he had insisted on being a part of William’s wife without considering her feelings on the matter.
Now, she appreciated, perhaps for the first time, that William might be better off with the two of them working together.
“I only want to help,” he said again.
Slowly, Jessamine turned, and Andrew approached, a hulking figure from behind. She stiffened, but he merely put his hands on her shoulders.
“Where does it hurt?”
“There,” she said. “And around my neck. And… lower.” She ached down to the small of her back, and even further than that.
Andrew’s thumbs dug into the muscle, and she let out a stifled groan of surprise. He stopped. “Does that hurt?”
“No, it was… It was nice.”
He resumed the motions, his fingers massaging the soreness from her. When he had worked the muscle around the base of her neck, he made his way down, rubbing the heel of his hands along the muscles of her side until he finally reached the small of her back.
“Here,” he said, his voice low. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it sounded more gravelly than usual. “Is this where you need me?”
Without thinking of the phrasing, she said, “Yes.”
Andrew took hold of either side of her waist and pressed his thumbs into the muscle above her hips, rubbing slow circles. “How about this?” he asked, the thickness in his voice more evident now.
Jessamine realized she had braced herself against the chair, holding herself up, pressing her backside toward him. She straightened, flushing.
“Yes, that’s… Good.”
“Relax.” He found another knot and worked at her again. Despite herself, she leaned back into him, closing her eyes and letting another sigh slip through her lips.
“Your muscles feel very tight here,” he observed. “You must have been very sore.”
She hissed another breath, then pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a moan. “Yes.”
“This may make you… tender.” He cleared his throat, adjusting himself slightly behind her. She almost turned around to look, then changed her mind. “But it should relieve the worst of the pain.”
“You are very good at that.”
For a second, his hands hesitated, then resumed their kneading. “I have some experience.”
“The army?”
“Mm.” He slid his hands back up her spine, and it was as though his fingers lingered on the back of her neck as he gave her once last squeeze. “There.”
Jessamine turned, finding him mere inches away. His chest almost brushed hers, and his head was tilted down, as though he was drawn into her orbit. Gravity brought them together. His eyes were dark, and one hand still rested on her shoulder, his fingers against her neck.
She felt loose. Hot all over, as though she wanted nothing more than to feel the air against her skin. Her stomach turned over.
“Jessamine…” he rumbled.
The hand on her shoulder moved to the back of her neck, and she moved instinctively, stepping even closer into him. Her chest truly did brush his then, and her nipples pinched. Sensation washed over her.
She gasped.
He groaned, as though he had been pushed beyond every limit known to man.
His breath brushed her face, and she knew she ought to move away, to find her equilibrium, but a force she didn’t understand compelled her to stay.
Demanded, with odd intensity, that she know how it felt to have those clever hands of his on more of her.
“Andrew,” she whispered.
The hand on the back of her head tightened, then his lips met hers. She didn’t know if she had been the one to move, or he had. All she knew was the heat of his mouth, the way it opened in invitation.
Jessamine took it.
She forgot they were in the nursery still, with William just a few feet away. She forgot that this was her husband whom she, at best, tolerated. Her body felt on fire, heat rushing down to the tender area between her legs.
She had never thought much about it before now, but having him kissing her made her core throb with urgent need.
His tongue brushed her lower lip, and she gasped into his mouth.
His other hand found her hip, dragging her against him, and a hard ridge pressed against her. At the meeting of their bodies, he let out a grunt, which only inflamed her more.
She gripped his lapels, as though to drag him still closer—though how much closer they could get, she hardly knew—when the door opened behind them.
Andrew was the first to move. He stepped back so abruptly, she almost stumbled. The dawn air felt cold against her swollen lips.
“I am so sorry,” the nursemaid said, not seeming to notice the tension in the room. “I hadn’t intended to fall asleep for so long.”
Andrew cleared his throat, only half turning to her.
“It is of no consequence,” he said to the nursemaid, his voice stiff. “I will leave William to your capable hands.”
Jessamine pressed her fingers to her burning cheeks, wishing she were anywhere but there. “Goodnight,” she said, and fled as soon as she thought Andrew had returned to bed.
Despite her exhaustion, it was a long time before she could sleep.