And he lived in hers, not that it mattered.
“I know that I should not say anything because it is not right or proper, but I do not want to deny what I feel.”
Blythe nearly snorted. “This past month has not been proper.”
“But you have not broken your marriage vows,” he reminded her.
“No, not fully at least,” she whispered.
“What?”
She blinked at him. “Nothing. It should not matter.”
“I will not attend the ball if you truly cannot go.”
“Your sister should not have to miss out because I wish to be a recluse.” She then smiled. “Besides, did you not promise a certain captain that you would take her?”
“Yes.”
“Therefore, if you do not attend, two people will be disappointed.” She sat on the bed and patted the space beside her. “Now, tell me who this captain is and is it his intention to court Isabella?”
“I thought you abhorred gossip.”
“I do, but this is different. It is your sister and there is no one for me to tell.”
Orlando laughed as he took a seat then told her all he knew of Captain Nathaniel Storm and how often he had seen him in Isabella’s company.
“It is likely for the best that I am not at the ball,” she finally said.
“Why?”
“Because like any good and protective brother, you will be more concerned with chaperoning and watching over your sister than dancing with me,” she laughed.
“I can assure you that would not be the case.”
“Until you see him escort her into a dark garden,” Blythe teased.
He stared into her eyes, smiled and shook his head. “Spoken by a woman who has experience with older brothers.”
“Enjoy the ball, Orlando,” Blythe said softly. “Watch over your sister and see that she has a night to be remembered, then return to me and tell me everything.”
“Gossip you mean.”
“What good is a ball without delicious gossip?” She laughed.
Oh, she wished she could attend but the fear of discovery and her name being whispered behind fans would keep her away. Maybe one day she will have the bravery to appear in Society, but it would not be at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball.
Yes, he was disappointed that Blythe would not attend the ball with him, but he understood. Maybe one day they would share a dance but that was also wishful thinking. They had only now, in this chamber, in an inn on the outskirts of Brussels.
This time he did not accidentally fall asleep, but intentionally remained, talking with Blythe long into the night. Each on the opposite side of the bed, hands reached out and held in the center. It was the only touch he would allow and it was also wrong, but he did not care because it was the most comforting sense in the world to fall asleep, her hand in his until the nightmare returned. The same as the night before of maimed bodies, men dying, blood everywhere, and as before, he woke up in a panic, sweat on his brow, heart pounding in his chest.
“Orlando,” Blythe gently called.
He turned and just like the night before, her blue eyes held nothing but concern and…did he dare hope love.
Orlando closed his eyes and tried to will his desire away but on the heels for such a nightmare he could not and reached out and pulled Blythe to him. He did not kiss her, though he wanted to, but held her, bringing her down on the bed with him, with her head upon his chest.
“Please, let me hold you.”
