“I will have them bring tea.” She stepped toward the door, straightening her shoulders as if forcing herself to hold onto calm. “And something for you to eat.”
Nell shook her head slightly, pressing a hand to her stomach as a wave of nausea twisted through her.
“Eat anyway.” Philippa lingered at the threshold, one hand resting lightly on the doorframe as she looked back. “He will need you to be strong when he wakes.”
When.Notif.Nell clung to the word like a lifeline, letting it anchor her as Philippa left.
At last, she was alone with him. She leaned over, studying his face now that the watchful eyes of the world had faded. In sleep, the sharp lines of his features softened, stripped of the armor he wore during the day. He looked younger this way. Vulnerable.
Her gaze traced the stark white ridge of the scar against his pale skin. Lower, she noticed the dark lashes resting against his cheeks and the rough shadow of stubble along his jaw. His lips were slightly parted, and his breath came slow and steady.
The room’s quiet seemed to peel away the pressure of titles and reputation. This wasn’t the powerful lord, the reckless rogue, for this was just Dominic.
“You idiot,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the knuckles of his hand, the motion tender but tinged with frustration. “Riding in a storm… what were you thinking?”
He didn’t stir, his chest kept rising and falling in a calm rhythm.
Her hand clenched lightly in her lap. “You could have died.” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard to push the words past the lump that caught in her throat. “You could have died, and I would have… I would have...”
She couldn’t find the words for the void that would have opened beneath her feet.
“I was so scared.” She admitted it to his sleeping face, the confession spilling out now that he couldn’t truly hear it. “That’s why I refused you. Not because you are reckless, or because of the ton, or because I cannot give you more children. It’s because you terrify me.”
He didn’t stir, but his hand felt warmer in hers.
“You make me feel things I swore I would never feel again.” The words were dredged up from a locked room in her heart. “After Gabriel… after everything he did to me… I promised Iwould never let anyone have that power over me again. And then you came along with your misty eyes and your reckless mouth, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t...”
She stopped to draw a shaking breath.
“But then Philippa came. She said you were hurt, and I couldn’t think. I simply ran.” She laughed, a wet and broken sound. “I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t think of the children, or the shop, or what the neighbors would say. I just… came.”
His hand twitched in hers. It was a small movement, but it was there.
“What does that mean?” She asked the quiet room and the flickering candles. “What does it mean when you run to someone without a single thought for yourself?”
She knew the answer. She’d known it all along, buried beneath the layers of fear, the denial, and the desperate need to protect herself from further ruin.
“I love you.” She whispered the words, her lips brushing against his knuckles as she spoke into the quiet of the room. “God help me. I love you.”
He didn’t hear her. His breathing stayed even and his face remained peaceful, his hand resting still within hers. But she’d needed to say it. She needed it to be true in the air, even if only to herself.
The storm passed sometime in the night. Nell didn’t notice when the rain stopped, nor when the thunder faded to a memory. She was watching him breathe, counting the rise and fall of his chest and tracking the colour as it slowly returned to his cheeks. She cataloged every twitch of his brow and every soft murmur he made in his sleep.
She didn’t sleep. She couldn’t.
Philippa came and went, bringing tea that grew cold in its porcelain cup and food that Nell didn’t touch. The fire was stoked, the candles replaced, and blankets tucked more firmlyaround Dominic’s still form. Servants moved in and out on quiet feet, speaking in hushed whispers and treating the sickroom like sacred ground.
Dawn arrived grey and pale, the light seeping through the gaps in the heavy curtains. Nell’s back ached from her awkward position and her arm felt stiff from being stretched across the mattress all night. She didn’t care. She could think of nothing except the warmth of his hand, the steady rhythm of his lungs, and the way his face looked in the growing light.
Edmund returned at first light. He carried his medical bag and his face was lined with exhaustion. He crossed to the bed and began his examination, checking Dominic’s pupils with the light of a candle and pressing his fingers to the pulse at the man’s throat. Finally, he unwrapped the bandage to inspect the wound.
“He is stable.” Edmund spoke at last, rewrapping the linen with careful hands. “That’s good. The swelling hasn’t worsened.”
“When will he wake?” Nell’s voice came out hoarse and rusty from her long hours of silence. She cleared her throat.
“When he is ready.” Edmund packed his bag and snapped the latch closed with a sharp metallic click. “The body knows what it needs.”
He paused at the door, looking back at her. He took in the dark circles under her eyes, her rumpled dress, and the way her hand was still clasped tightly around Dominic’s.
