“Charles, it’s too cold. You’ll freeze. It’s not worth…”
He raised his hand, the flash of anger returning to his eyes. Then he gestured, slowly and deliberately.
Do not speak so. You are worth everything.
“Charles…”
Her voice trailed away as he placed his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, relishing his warmth.
I would willingly give my life for you. I…
He hesitated, then placed his hand over his heart and gestured to her.
His forehead creased as if he were in pain, and he parted his lips, his body tense, then closed his eyes.
“Love,” he whispered, his voice a low rasp. “I l-love—”
He broke off and drew in a sharp breath.
“—you.”
He exhaled, trembling, then opened his mouth once more. The pain in his eyes intensified and she placed her fingertips over his lips.
“No, my love,” she said. Then she took his hand and placed it over her heart. “You have no need to speak, Charles. I love you as you are.”
He moved his hands.
And I you.
She shifted toward him, to settle in his arms, but he raised his hand. Then he gestured to her belly and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, Charles, I…”
He placed his hand on her belly and caressed it. His eyes gleamed, and she caught a flash of reflected light as a tear spilled onto his cheeks.
“Child,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said, placing her hand over his. The twin rubies of his ring and hers winked in the twilight. “I’m carrying your child.”
He took her face in his hands, and his eyes, wet with tears, creased with a smile. Then he pulled her close, encircling her in his large, muscular arms.
“Charles, what are we going to do?” she said. “I-I cannot climb back up.”
“Shh…” he whispered, rocking her to and fro.
“Does anyone know where we are?”
He nodded against her, then tightened his embrace. “W-we wait.”
“Yes, my love,” she whispered. “I’ll wait forever as long as I have you by my side.”
He then placed a kiss on the top of her head. Drawing comfort from his silent solidity, Olivia nestled into his embrace and drifted into a doze.
Images flashed before her mind’s eye—a dull orange glow, a flickering flame, a length of rope coiled around her waist. Then a softly whispered voice soothed the ache in her bones before it was accompanied by other voices—Jacob’s familiar timbre, the gentle scolding of Mrs. Brougham, and finally the firm, professional tones of Dr. Cheam. But the one constant was the warm hand that enveloped hers, holding her firm, promising never to leave. Then a bitter taste swamped the back of her tongue, and she slipped into oblivion.
When Olivia next opened her eyes, she was surrounded by sunlight. She tilted her head and blinked, her eyes watering in the light. She was in her bedchamber, her husband still clinging to her hand, hisdark gaze fixed on her. As she tried to sit, he shook his head and gently pushed her back.
“Ah, the patient’s awake.”
