But he made the injury seem like nothing, hardly more than a scratch.
Perhaps this was all it was to him, for he was much more stoic than she was and nothing seemed to daunt him.
Had she not been there to see Dr. Farthingale stitch his wound, she would never have known he was hurt.
Her own recovery had not gone quite as smoothly.
Even now, her head was throbbing and the dull pain was constant because a few days of lying quietly was not enough to heal any person receiving such a brutal blow. Hopefully, she was on the mend despite pushing her endurance, and a good night’s rest would see her restored. “Julius…”
“What, love?”
“You are not thinking of passing another uncomfortable night in that big chair, are you?”
He smiled as he removed his cravat and waistcoat. “I expect so. Do you have any other suggestions?”
“Yes…must I say it?”
He cast her a knowing grin as he walked toward her again, looking quite irresistible while unbuttoning his shirt.
She was suddenly very much aware of him.
There was something so beautifully appealing and masculine about his standing before her with his shirt casually open to reveal the golden glaze of his skin and the dusting of dark hair across the expanse of his broad chest.
His gaze turned hot, his eyes now fiery embers as he studied her in return.
She knew what was running through his mind, for she was having the same improper thoughts about him. Did he dare touch her yet? She hoped he would, and was it not obvious she wanted him to?
He seemed hesitant despite his obvious desire.
“Julius…” She understood his hesitation, for he had a highly developed sense of honor and would need considerable coaxing before agreeing to ‘despoil’ her before their wedding night.
But was it not more important to seize whatever happiness was offered to them in this moment? Nothing was certain in life. If Lady Easton’s third attempt to silence her succeeded, she did not want to die without ever having experienced a night in his arms.
“I feel as though we have just run a gauntlet,” Julius muttered, now settling in the chair beside the bed as he contemplated what to do.
Honestly, why was he thinking so hard about this?
“We are still running that gauntlet,” Gory reminded him. “Which is why I hope you will understand what I am going to say next.” She licked her lips and then cleared her throat. “I want us to share your bed. Now. Tonight. With all the implications I am sure are now rushing through your mind. Everyone believes we must have already done…you know. And we will be married in a matter of hours anyway.”
“My brothers know I would not touch you before we are wed.”
“Oh?” She tried not to look too disappointed.
He must have found her dismay amusing, for he reached over and gave her another light kiss on the lips. “Lord, you taste sweet.”
She sighed. “I do not need to wait until we are married to know you respect me. Honestly, Julius. Isn’t respect highly overrated?”
“No, it is not,” he said, laughing as he removed his shirt, displaying the rippling muscles kept hidden beneath the fine, lawn fabric. “But are you sure, Gory?”
She stared at the unsightly row of stitches now visible on his arm. The area along the seam of those stitches was inflamed and red, and patches of discolored yellowish-purple bruising were visible around the outer edges. “I’m sure. But I suppose I will understand if you are not feeling well enough to–”
“Me? I’m fine.”
Was this not Julius?
He would never admit to feeling anything other than fine.
Indeed, this had to be his favorite word. I am fine. All will be fine. Ignore the blood dripping down my arm.
