Isadora desperately wanted to believe him. And sitting there, such sincerity in his voice, she believed he truly did mean it. But what about the next time something devastating happened? Would he face it alone and shut her out again? If she kept her distance from him, she could survive it, but if she allowed him to get too close, then—
“I’m not asking for forgiveness right now,” he murmured, as though reading her thoughts. “I know that is far too much to give, and heaven knows I don’t deserve it.” He budged closer, taking her hand and pressing it with what almost felt like desperation. “It’s my fault you were hurt protectingmychild when you didn’t even know there was a need to, and I will never forgive myself for that. Just let me be by your side. Let me prove to you that I mean everything I say.”
“Ourchild,” she corrected. “I was protecting our child. The moment you wed me, she became mine, and you keep forgetting, Nicholas. You keep assuming she’s your responsibility alone, but she isn’t.”
“Our child,” he repeated, and a soft smile crept across his face. “Yes.”
“I can’t forgive you right now,” she sighed, and swallowed, pressing a hand to her head. Everything still hurt, and having Nicholas here made the world seem both clearer and less defined. All the things she had taken as certainties over the last few weeks had come crumbling down.
“That’s all right. Can I stay? I can be in the chair beside you if you need.”
She nodded mutely as she climbed under the covers. She didn’t forgive him yet, but that didn’t mean she didn’t crave his closeness. When he held her, she could believe everything would turn out well after all. And it had been so long since he’d last visited her bed.
He slipped under the covers and drew her into the warmth of his body. “Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake. Tomorrow and all the days after. Nothing but your will can keep me from your side.”
“My…will?”
His nose nuzzled her cheek, then, as though remembering he had not yet been given the right to do that, he retreated again. “If you command me to leave, I will.”
For a moment, she toyed with doing just that. Just to see if he would keep his word and obey. But in the end, she wanted him to stay more than she wanted to assert control. So she allowed him to slide his arm around her waist, sealing her in place. Warmth surrounded her, and she finally felt at peace.
“Is Sophia yours?” she whispered. “By blood, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I think so, but I suppose I doubt I ever will. And for a time, I struggled with it… but now I realize how little it matters. I love her not because she is of my blood, but because she’s my daughter and I have seen her grow and change every day of her life.” He paused, considering. “And as much as she sometimes feels as though she comes from another planet, I think she feels more like me with every passing year. I think if she were from Sherborne, she would feel different.”
Isadora nodded sleepily. She’d only seen Sherborne for a minute or two, but already she felt certain that Sophia—sweet, gentle Sophia, who loved her kittens and her atlas and her family—could not belong to someone whose soul was so dark and corrupted.
“I’m sorry Grace betrayed you,” she said with a yawn.
He huffed a laugh. “It’s all right, Dora. For a time, it wasn’t, but her actions were never mine to control.”
“I would never betray you in that way,” she said, her voice so soft, it was barely there. “Even when I half-hated you, I neverwanted to look elsewhere.” Especially not Mr. Windham, who had so consistently attempted to step between them.
“Half—hated?” he asked with a chuckle. His arms tightened around her. “I know. I trust you. Now sleep.”
I trust you. How easily those words had come to him, and how much that meant, given everything he had faced over the last few weeks. “Why?” she mumbled, sleep almost taking her. “Why now, after you spent so long not trusting me?”
He made a little humming sound in the back of his throat as he kissed her hair, and as she drifted off into dreamland, she almost missed his answer.
“Because I love you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Nicholas opened the door to Sophia, a finger to his lips. The night had been long and arduous; Isadora's sleep had not been restful, and though she hadn't woken, he had soothed her from more than one nightmare. Even now she lay pale and still, claiming a headache.
Aside from tending to her, bathing the sweat from her brow, and feeding her a little bit of broth mixed with tincture Cook had sent up, Nicholas had done nothing else. Lying in her bed without leave to touch her as a husband was its own trial, but he would do anything to see her feel safe with him first. She deserved that much at least.
Kissing her more than on her temples as she fell asleep would have to wait. And anything more would have to wait still longer.
There were plenty of things he still wanted to say, but he would give her time to recover first.
Sophia, on the other hand, had been desperate to see Isadora since recovering from the shock of the near-kidnap, and Nicholas had delayed only until he was sure the visit wouldn’t overtax either of them.
“Quietly,” he murmured, guiding her to the bed.
Sophia stopped short. “Papa, your face—are you hurt?”
For a moment he didn’t understand. Then he remembered the faint bruising at his temple and under one eye from the bout, and touched the tender skin, wincing before he could stop himself.
