Another cry rent the air, and Grace stumbled down the rest of the stairs, her heart in her throat. Had someone broken in? It sounded as though they were being attacked. She felt suddenly sick at the thought that Nicholas may still have been in the study. Was he even now being murdered?
Without thinking, she grabbed a candlestick from a small occasional table at the foot of the stairs and hurried down the dim hallway to the study.
Throwing open the door, Grace found the room empty save a thrashing man in the chair before the fire.
“No! Don’t you dare die on me, John. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, damn you, look at me.”
The anguish in his words tore through Grace as she made her way to his side, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nicholas was having a nightmare, and by the torment on his face, she realised whatever it was he was dreaming had actually happened.
Was this why he hadn’t come to her bed?
“Lass, be careful.”
Grace turned to find Nicholas’s valet at the doorway, his red hair sticking out all over his head. She had met the Scot the day before and found him very congenial. “Do you know what’s happening?”
The sombre look on his face tugged at her heart. “Aye. He’s having a nightmare. They continue to plague him, even after all this time.”
“What can I do to help him?” she whispered, kneeling beside the chair. It must be torturous to know he would endure such pain each night when he closed his eyes.
“There’s nae helping him,” the Scot replied, moving closer to the chair. “And he will not thankye to see him so.”
“I can’t leave him like this,” Grace stated. Carefully, she lay her hand on her husband’s cheek, feeling the tightness under her palm. Nicholas flinched against her touch, but his eyes did not open, his fists clenched tightly against the chair. “There must be something I can do,” she continued almost on the verge of tears.
“Go on lass,” the Scot replied, his expression troubled. “I’ll get the lad tae his bed. ‘Tis the blasted memories that will not leave him be. And the sights and sounds he’s endured are not for a gentle woman’s ears.”
Gently, he pushed her towards the door. “He’s lucky to have a friend such as you,” she whispered.
The other man grinned. “Aye, and he’s lucky tae have a woman like ye by his side. God willing, he’ll realise it before we’re all old and grey.”
Grace touched the man’s shoulder in thanks before she exited the room, the tears now flowing freely as she climbed the stairs. Perhaps her husband was not the cold man she’d believed him to be. The agonies he’d clearly experienced had wrought such terrible suffering inside him. Mayhap Nicholas had cultivated the remoteness in his demeanour as protection.
To keep people away. To keep her away.
Shivering, Grace climbed back into her bed, pulling the covers to her neck. She had no knowledge of the horrors of battle and felt completely out of her depth. But she was determined to do something. One thing had become abundantly clear. Nicholas had shut himself away from the world, and it was up to her to bring him back.
∞∞∞
The next morning, Grace opened her eyes to find her husband seated on the side of her bed, dressed for the day. Gasping inshock, she sat up quickly, hugging the bedclothes to her.
“Nicholas?” she asked hesitantly when he didn’t speak. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and lines of exhaustion on his face. He looked like she felt, worn out and weary from the previous night’s events.
“I understand I woke you last night.”
His voice was expressionless, giving nothing away. Grace sat up, pushing the hair out of her face. Had he sought her out to apologize? Surely he understood there was no need. “I was not asleep Nicholas.”
“Still you should have remained in your bed. It is not appropriate for you to see me so.” His voice was curt, and Grace fought against her instinctive need to flinch.
Taking a deep breath, she touched his shoulder, careful to keep the touch light. Plucking up the courage she whispered, “Is that why you have yet to come to my bed?”
He didn’t meet her eyes, though she could see the tightening in his jaw. “I will not subject you to my nightmares.”
Grace climbed out of the bed then and came to stand before her damaged husband, heedless of the fact that she was wearing only her nightclothes. Boldly, she touched his cheek and forced him to meet her gaze.
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t respond, simply stared down at her, his face expressionless. Grace summoned the courage she’d just found to do what she must. “If you wish to allow me to help you, I will, but I will not push you to do so Nicholas. These nightmares do not make you weak, but they will destroy you if you allow them to do so.”
“You know nothing of the world,” he responded cuttingly. “You can’t help me. I don’t need a nursemaid. I need a wife. One who knows her place.”
The iciness in his tone caused Grace’s heart tothud sickeningly, and she stepped back slightly, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into her bed and bury herself under the covers. Instead, she stood tall, and clenching her fists together, leaned forward to press her lips against his cheek. “Yes, I am your wife,” she started, surprised her voice remained steady. “And you are my husband. Your pain is my pain. I will be here, whenever you need me.”
