It shouldn’t have made sense, and yet it did.
He lifted the drink, swallowed, and when he lowered it again, stared into the bottom of the glass. “I’m sorry I woke you.” He rubbed one hand down his face. “I didn’t take a moment to think I might have one here.”
“You mentioned once that you don’t sleep well. Is it because of the nightmares?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“And the nightmares, they are from your time in the army?”
“Yes.”
It was obvious by his terse answers that this wasn’t something he wished to discuss, but Naomi found that she was compelled to ask anyway. Like lancing an infected wound.
“Is… Arthur ever in your dreams?”
His gaze dropped, those blue eyes staring sightlessly at the rumpled bed sheets, and she knew instantly that she was right. He exhaled a shaky breath. “Sometimes. Yes. More lately.” He was talking to her, but Luke didn’t sound at all like himself. Naomi lifted her bare feet off the floor and scooted across the bed so that she was sitting beside him.
And then she simply waited.
“It wasn’t as bad in the beginning,” he offered into the silence.
She took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. His fingers were longer and thicker than hers, the span of his palm more broad, the skin toughened by years of hard work—and yet his hand seemed to fit perfectly within her own.
How many times had he comforted her?
His other arm swiped across his face. “I just want to sleep. One night without seeing them.” His words broke her heart.
“Perhaps they’ll fade once you’ve sold your commission—if you can put it in the past.”
“Yes. I can only hope. But I don’t know.” Then he grimaced, and his tone became more businesslike. “Damn, I still need to speak with Blackheart. New orders could come through at any time.”
Naomi bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that he could likely guess her feelings regarding his return to combat. A soldier could never promise that he would return. He could only offer a promise to keep vigilant. She’d learned this the hard way.
Despite the heavy topic of conversation, Naomi suddenly found herself overcome with the urge to yawn, and she was reminded of the late hour. Luke slid his arm around her. “I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than this.”
“Better than Arthur, you mean?” That would be the logical assumption, but their situation was anything but logical. “Or better than to fall for another soldier? Better than to fall for you?” She’d not pretend. Life was too short to pretend she didn’t have feelings for him—to pretend that it wouldn’t break her heart all over again when he inevitably left. She turned and raised her other hand to his chest, snuggling closer to him.
“All of it.” His voice caught.
He stilled her hand with his and the rejection from earlier nearly had her climbing off his bed to return to her own. But he squeezed her hand and moved it to cover his heart.
“When Ester returns, I’ll depart for Sussex—I shall summon this courage I supposedly possess and have the conversations I’ve been putting off. And then I’ll ship out for one last mission.”
Naomi nodded, tamping down the panic that tried to swell at his words.
“But after—Naomi—after I’ve met my obligations, I’ll come back for you.” Warm lips touched the back of her hand. “I’ll come back when you are truly free. You’ll have had time to come to terms with all of this, the baby, Arthur’s betrayal. And then we will have our chance.”
We will have our chance.At love?
He must feel at least something close to the same as she did. “I’ll miss you.”
“And I you. But you will reconcile with your family—and you will meet Arthur’s mother and brother. I’ve known Lady Tempest longer than I knew my parents. She is not a bad person. She is going to want to see her grandchild. She is going to want to know her.”
The realization that she was going to have to take up her life without him was a chilling one.
His implication was that he’d be gone nearly a year. She’d observe a proper mourning period all the while praying for Luke’s safe return.
“Are you making plans for us, Major Cockfield?” She would tease him tonight. She would pretend he meant it.
