Page 43 of Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match
“I will make your excuses.”
“Imagine how I’ve felt as the day wore on and you did not return. But you’ve had a fine afternoon, haven’t you? I could hear you screeching with laughter long before your arrival. Christopher Keatings must be a funny fellow.”
“He is.” (And she’d drunk a lot.) “Come and kiss me until you do not feel angry anymore.”
“Believe me, it is my first impulse. You’re fortunate I didn’t pick you up over my shoulder off the front stairs. But I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.” Will braced a forearm on the mantel and stared into the fire. “When I heard you laughing in the distance, my first thought was that you had not met my wife today.”
“So, what actually happened was—”
He continued, speaking over her. “Then a new thought occurred. After confirming she is my wife, you had a half hourof hurt feelings. Then you decided to move on with your next option.”
“I will tell you everything. Clara Hoggett is—”
Again, he stopped her. “Just let me be yours awhile longer.”
The anger blew out of the room like smoke, leaving them both in tired silence.
When she’d found him on the morgue slab, he’d still had fight in his brown eyes. When she’d dragged him naked up the staircase, he’d declared that he might be dying but still had that stubborn tightness in his jaw. Tonight, staring into the fire, he looked utterly defeated. Unbreathing, and unblinking.
Perhaps, in this one moment, he could not face a life without her?
“You’re still mine.” She watched him absorb her meaning. “Is that good news, or bad?”
“Good news. I should feel terrible for admitting it.” He sat down heavily beside her on the chaise. “Angelika, I am at my limit tonight. My head aches. My hands ache. My heart feels even worse.”
“Lie down,” Angelika urged him, and after some coaxing, he did, with his head on her lap. She combed her hands through his dark hair, admiring the coppery glints, thinking that if she could have moments like this, she would be happy to never see daylight again.
“Is Clara all right?” Will asked.
“No, Clara isn’t all right. But I will send her a crate of groceries each week, and her fat little baby Edwin has found himself a new benefactress. You should see his red hair. I’ve mentally designed an entire wardrobe for him.” She reached for his hand, and he submitted to her tender rubbing of his fingers.
“You do get a lot of pleasure from spoiling people rotten. Ishould know. He’s a lucky baby.” The first hint of a smile touched his mouth. “I like when you spend your money on good things. Was this your first time visiting a villager? How was it?”
“I felt like a marginally better person. And now we know you aren’t from the military academy, unless Christopher didn’t meet you. But don’t despair, I’ve got a new angle for us to follow, and it involves the church.”
He glared up from her lap. “I never imagined you’d start actively searching for my origin. Would you like me to leave this house now, or in the morning?”
“Oh, stop these sulking theatrics. You know full well that if I had my way, you’d never leave my bedroom.” She felt relief when he smiled again. “You’re just overtired, my love. What have you been doing today?”
“I’ve been keeping myself busy.”
She inspected his hand closer. “You’ve got some scratches.” His skin was still so cool. She mentally added a new pair of goatskin gloves to her shopping list. “What has kept you so occupied?”
“I worked in the garden all day. Don’t look so outraged. Today has been a sort of epiphany. I think I worked outdoors in my old life. I knew how to prune roses and move a beehive. I mixed a paraffin spray for aphids without even thinking of it. I’m hiring some local boys to help get this place under control. Who knows, someone may even recognize me. I have been making discreet inquiries as best I can.”
“But you do not need to earn your place here. You’re not my groundskeeper.” She pressed kisses upon the damage to his hand. “You’re my special one. Please do not hurt yourself.” She tilted his hand toward the firelight and noticed two dots on either end of the wound, done with her brother’s purple ink. “What did he do this for?”
“You notice everything.” Will was irritated, and he took his hand back from her. “He’s measuring the wound and the healing rate. Your brother has ordered that special new microscope, by the way. I am no longer a man, just a science experiment.”
Angelika winced. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”
“Better than dead, I suppose. The sleepwalking is something new to worry about. Some mornings, I wake with dirt on my feet. What am I searching for?” He asked this of himself. “No wonder I’m so tired.”
“I think you are searching for a book. That’s why I am sleeping in here tonight. Please don’t walk off and get lost.” Angelika was alarmed at the thought. “Should I tie you to my bedpost?”
“It was only a matter of time until you suggested that,” he replied, with a glance that flipped her heart clean over. When they made eye contact, each thought about the sheer possibilities of a few lengths of silk cord. Then, he sobered. “I’ve asked him to swear to keep anything to do with his studies of me confidential from you.”
She scowled up at the ceiling, in the direction of her brother’s bedroom. “I thought we’d just established that you’re mine.”
