Victoria had to suppress a smile at Keats referring to Pembroke as a stubborn goat. It was true, of course, but it really was the sort of thing one ought not to call one’s employer. Fortunately, Victoria was possessed of what some would consider rather odd sensibilities. She admired free thinking and candor.
Keats seemed to think better of her words, for her cheeks flushed. “Begging your pardon, my lady. I should not have called his lordship a stubborn goat. I wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t acted the part.”
She couldn’t stifle the small laugh that escaped her at Keats’ grudging apology. Heavens, her entire body still seemed to ache with the force of the fall she’d taken. She wondered if she was one plum-colored bruise from head to toe.
“He does possess a raretenacity, does he not, Keats?” she asked, mirth creeping into her tone.
“That he does, my lady,” Keats agreed, fussing over the bedclothes, straightening them to her satisfaction. “There now. But if I may be so forthright, I have to say that I’m happy to see his particular tenacity being directed toward a good cause at last.”
A good cause at last.
Yes, so too was she. “Did he truly stay by my side for—oh dear, how many days have passed now?”
“Three whole days, my lady,” Keats surprised her by revealing. “Aye, that he did.”
Three days. She recalled Will telling her she’d been unconscious for two days, so that meant she’d slept away yet another day. He hadn’t even remained in her presence for more than three hours after their wedding vows had been spoken, and yet he had remained with her, the comforting warmth at her side, the hand holding the cup to her lips, the beloved voice urging her to survive.
Fight, my darling. You must fight.
It came back to her now in fragments. Will had been there at her side all along, the shadowy figure on the edges of her subconscious when she’d been in such devastating pain. He’d pushed her out of the way of the falling branch that day. One moment, she’d been in his arms, and the next, she heard a loud crack and there she stood, too foolish to move. He’d shoved her out of the branch’s most direct path, even suffering a blow to the head himself in the process.
None of these actions belonged to a selfish man or a cruel man or a man incapable of emotion. He’d told her that she’d changed everything, even him. But that wasn’t true, for he had changed himself. Something had brought him back to her, and she still didn’t know precisely what that was, but she was grateful for it. Grateful for him.
Her stomach grumbled loudly yet again. “I must insist on no porridge if you please, Keats. Just a muffin, perhaps, and some jam? Yes, that would do nicely.”
Keats grinned. “Yes, my lady. I’ll be back in a trice.”
Victoria scarcely waited for the door to close on Keats to throw back the bedclothes. She felt most unlike herself but good enough to have grown weary of lying about like an invalid. With a wince and considerably more effort than she’d thought the act would require, she hauled herself to the side of the bed, her bare feet brushing the soft carpet. Food would help to replenish her strength, she knew, but she wasn’t about to lie abed waiting. With another heave, she stood on the wobbly legs of a newborn foal. She shook out her nightdress and remained still, willing the abrupt thumping in her head to subside enough that she didn’t fear she’d cast up her accounts.
So much for being strong, she thought grimly as she forced one foot in front of the other. Ah, yes. Walking now. She could do this. The nausea relented like an ocean wave being drawn back out to sea. She took a deep inhalation. Another step. Then another.
The door joining her chamber to Will’s opened, and there he stood, more handsome than she’d ever seen him. He wore plain trousers and a white shirt without the formality of a waistcoat, and his feet were bare, his dark hair falling wetly to his collar. Their gazes collided. For a heady moment, it was as if the entire outside world was suspended. Only the two of them existed, their hearts beating in unison, their bodies attuned. He was her husband, her lover. He was the man she loved, and it was a deep love, strong and abiding. She’d thought she’d loved him before, but her old feelings were paltry compared to this new, all-encompassing rush.
“Victoria, what the devil do you think you’re doing?” The irritation in his voice dashed away her maudlin thoughts. “Where the hell is your lady’s maid? I told her not to leave you, damn it.”
“I’m walking.” She held out her arms and beamed, knowing she must look a sight with her stale nightgown, hair a wild tangle around her shoulders, and a wan face, but she didn’t care. A ridiculous surge of joy coursed through her as she stood there before him. “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt better, Will.”
“Jesus.” He frowned as he closed the distance between them and placed steadying, possessive hands on her waist. “She didn’t give you more laudanum, did she? I expressly forbid you getting another drop of that poison.”
“No laudanum, I can assure you. My head is aching ferociously.”
“Of course it is.” He began shepherding her back to the bed she’d just freed herself from. “You’ve suffered a serious injury, Victoria. You need rest. Bloody hell, I’m sacking your maid when she returns from wherever it is she’s gone.”
“You cannot sack Keats.” She mustered the flagging strength she had remaining and put up resistance. “Will, stop. I don’t wish to be abed. I want to stretch my legs for a moment. She’s fetching me some muffins and jam at my behest.”
“You’re to have porridge until the doctor deems otherwise.” His fingers tightened on her waist, and even in her diminished state, the heat of him through the fine linen of her nightgown was enough to affect her. “You must return to bed whether you wish it or not.”
“I don’t wish it.” Her tone was mulish but she didn’t care. She’d been bursting with emotion, her love for him beating within her with the force of a heart, and he was doing his best to undermine it. “You’re being a bully.”
“A bully?” He looked genuinely taken aback. “Good Christ, woman. If I must bully you to keep you from injuring yourself more by gadding about your bloody chamber like you’re on a promenade in Hyde Park, then I will. Have you any idea what these last three days have been like? I leave your side for half an hour, and here you are, ordering muffins and about to swoon.”
Her head continued to pound, but the brightness of her spirits remained undiminished. She grinned. “Muffins shall always be preferable to porridge, and I wasn’t about to swoon.”
“You’re deuced unsteady on your feet for a woman who wasn’t about to swoon. You need to gather up your strength. I won’t have you injuring yourself worse than you already are,” he growled.
But she was undeterred. “Truly, I’ve never felt better. Your concern is misplaced.”
With a long-suffering sigh, he bent and scooped her up into his arms in one swift motion. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.”
