He blinked as exhaustion took an even firmer hold, honesty slipping from his lips. “I’d rest easier…knowing you were nearby.”
At last, she offered a genuine smile. “Perhaps your mother wouldn’t mind if I stayed for a time.”
He fell asleep before he could manage a reply.
Henry woke disoriented, confused. Why he was in his childhood bedchamber?
The confusion cleared as his headache descended in full force and the memories along with it. He closed his eyes as his heartbeat quickened, fear running through him. Marcus—noise—pain—
A hand gently touched his, instantly easingthe panic.
“Henry?”
He opened his eyes to see Amelia at his side, her warm brown eyes holding on him.
“How is your head?” Her gaze swept over the rest of him, as if guessing that wasn’t all that ailed him.
“Hurts.” How ridiculous to be reduced to single-word responses, but he couldn’t think with his head pounding, let alone form complete sentences to better describe the soreness.
“Your mother said you refused the laudanum before leaving hospital, but pain relief is important.”
“Don’t…don’t like the stuff.” He closed his eyes again, not wanting to argue. Especially not with Amelia.
“Neither do I.” The rustle of her gown had him opening his eyes again to see her retrieving a small brown bottle from upon the bedside table. “I have some peppermint oil that might be helpful.” She lifted a brow. “Would you care to try some on your temples to see if that eases the pain?”
“Yes,” he murmured, not daring to move his head.
She dabbed some on her finger and gently rubbed the oil on his temple just below the bandage, the scent filling the air. “If this doesn’t help, you may need to resort to laudanum for the next couple of days until you start feeling better. I don’t think willow bark tea will be enough.”
Funny how hearing that gentle recommendation from Amelia had him rethinking the laudanum, though the pain did seem to lift as she continued the gentle massage. Was it due to the peppermint oil, or her touch?
“Your father is convinced a shot or three of whiskey would help,” she murmured with a smile as she leaned close to repeatthe process on the other side. “I told him I’d share that option with you to see if you’d like a glass.”
That was enough to have Henry smiling. “Sounds like him.”
“Since alcohol is an ingredient in laudanum, it’s hard to argue against him,” she added wryly, before holding the bottle of peppermint oil beneath his nose. “Have a gentle sniff, and we’ll see if this proves helpful first.”
He did as she directed, then waited a few seconds, pleased to feel a bit of relief, even the nausea lessening. “It helps a little.” He held her gaze, grateful she was at his side. “Though your touch does as well.”
Awareness darkened her eyes, followed by a tenderness that matched his own feelings. She set aside the bottle with a steadier hand. “I am happy to see if massage helps, though I don’t want to hurt you.” She reached to gently run her fingers along his forehead and his temples, careful to avoid the bandage.
The tension in his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was there eased. He closed his eyes again to better enjoy it. “How are my parents taking this?”
Amelia hesitated before answering. “About as well as can be expected, I suppose. We’re all greatly relieved you weren’t hurt worse.”
“As am I.” He’d been injured before—stabbed, beaten—but nothing like this.
He didn’t care for the helpless sensation of being a victim. Somehow being injured by a bomb made that worse. How could he fight an opponent he couldn’t see? Not for a moment did he think he’d been the target of the explosion, he’dbeen nothing more than collateral damage. Unimportant. And somehow that was also an awful feeling.
“I suppose your mother is...is somewhat accustomed to this. Between you and your father.”
The emotion in Amelia’s voice had him opening his eyes to reach for her hand. “Amelia.” He hated to cause her distress, yet the injury was a reminder he shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
She blinked back tears as she met his gaze. “I have always known your position as a detective is dangerous, but I suppose I wasn’t truly prepared to nearly lose you. Not like this.”
His heart ached at her words. Would this cause her to change her mind? To decide love wasn’t worth the risk of losing someone?
And would she feel differently if she hadn’t already endured so much loss in her life?
