“You haven’t slept.” He adjusted his coat, his gaze lingering on her tired form.
“I cannot.” It was a simple, undeniable truth.
“He is lucky.” Edmund said it in a low voice. Something unreadable crossed his face for a moment. “To have someone who refuses to leave his side.”
“Edmund.” She started to speak, not entirely sure what she wanted to say. Perhaps she meant to thank him, or perhaps to offer another apology for the pain she’d caused him.
“Don’t.” He held up a hand to stop her, his expression gentle and weary. “You don’t need to apologize. I understand now. I think I always did.”
He left then. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving her alone once more.
Nell turned back to Dominic, watching his face in the grey morning light. “Wake up.” She whispered the plea, squeezing his hand like she could pull his consciousness back to the room. “Please. Wake up.”
It happened slowly. A twitch came first. His fingers curled around hers with more strength than before. Then a groan followed, low and pained, as his head turned on the pillow. Movement stirred under his closed lids, as if he were fighting his way back through fog.
“Dominic?” Nell leaned closer. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Dominic, can you hear me?”
His eyes opened. At first, they did not settle. He blinked against the pale light. Confusion clouded the grey.
“Where...” The word scraped out, little more than a dry friction against his teeth. He swallowed hard, his throat working with a visible, parched effort.
“Bramwell Park.” She squeezed his hand, letting her fingers linger, and leaned close until the warmth of his body pressed against hers. “You’re home. You fell from your horse.”
He stared at her, disbelief etched across his face. “Nell?” The name hovered on his lips, fragile and searching.
“I’m here.” She leaned closer, brushing her thumb over his knuckles, letting him feel her steady presence.
“You… you’re here.” His brow furrowed like the words themselves required effort. “But you… you told me to stay away.”
“I know.” Her thumb moved over his hand in a constant, soothing circle.
“You slapped me.” A faint, almost incredulous smile brushed his lips.
She couldn’t stop the twitch in her own. “You deserved it.”
“Probably.” His eyes closed briefly, then snapped open, trying to anchor himself to the moment. “Why are you here?”
“Philippa came for me.” Her hand shook slightly as she kept it on his. She took a slow breath to steady herself. “She said you were hurt. She said you were saying my name.”
“Always.” His chest rose and fell with the word, his gaze sharpening, holding her with a mixture of wonder and need. “Always your name. Even in my dreams.”
“Dominic...” She began, but he cut her off with a subtle tilt of his head.
“You came.” Something like astonishment—or relief—softened his features.
“I came.” She didn’t move her hand from his, letting the grip anchor her.
“Why?” He searched her face, waiting for the answer she wasn’t ready to give.
She swallowed, her lips pressed together. “Because I couldn’t not come.”
His hand tightened around hers, the pressure both urgent and grounding. “Say it again.”
She repeated it, letting her chest rise with the words, though they came quietly. “I couldn’t not come.”
“No.” His grip increased, steadying her. He didn’t need to speak; the tension in his fingers said everything. He leaned toward her slightly, eyes unflinching. “What you said earlier. When you thought I was asleep.”
Her stomach dropped. Heat and dread rushed through her. “You heard that?”
