Page 96 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
“I craveyou,” she countered. “We can discuss children another time. For now, I simply wish to lie in bed with my husband for another moment before he rushes off.”
Spencer still looked reluctant, so she leaned up to kiss him, trying to ease the tension inside him. Slowly, it left his body, and she smiled against his skin, kneading the tight knots in his body.
She did not know when it turned into a full-on massage, but she continued nonetheless.
She kneaded gently in some places and harder in others, and Spencer hummed contentedly, his eyes closing.
“Keep doing that and I might fall asleep,” he mumbled.
“Perhaps you need rest,” she countered. “Your body does not know rest even if it hits you in the face.”
Spencer tensed up at her words, and she paused, ready to ask what she had said wrong or if she had offended him. But his jaw worked tightly, and his body went lax once more.
It was an effort, she could feel it. The way he had toforcehis body to relax, for it simply could not happen naturally.
Eleanor kneaded in silence, listening as her husband’s breaths grew deeper and slower. Soon, he was asleep, and she crawled up his body, nestling into the crook of his arm and falling asleep with him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Get off her!”
The scream shoved Eleanor sharply into consciousness, her body immediately on high alert. She bolted upright, her eyes wide, searching through the darkness that had fallen over Spencer’s chamber.
His face was tight, his eyebrows knitted in distress.
“Get off—get your hands off her.” It was a cry and a scream and a plea all in one.
“Spencer,” Eleanor said quietly but urgently. “Spencer.”
But he did not wake up, and his body jerked, his head moving with whatever nightmare he was trapped in.
And then a broken sob tore through the darkness. “Anna.”
“Spencer,” Eleanor tried again, her worry growing.
Her hand flitted over his face, trying to rouse him. She tapped hurriedly at his chin and his mouth, and moments later, his eyes flew open.
He gasped, heaving as he sat up, wrenching away from her.
“L-Leave,” he demanded, his voice cracking in a way she had never heard.
He still looked half-caught between consciousness and his nightmare, so she remained firmly where she was. Neither had dressed, having fallen asleep after their coupling. Her eyes remained on his face, concern tightening her chest.
“Eleanor, please. I-I cannot explain this to you. Please return to your chamber.”
“No.” She frowned. “No! No, you cannot ask that of me. What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Nightmares happen.”
“Nightmares often stem from something real,” she countered. “I know that well enough myself.”
“And if you had nightmares about your time in St. Euphemia’s, would you let me stay? Would you speak with me about it?”
Eleanor surprised herself by simply answering, “Yes.”
That caught Spencer off guard.
His chest heaved with panic, and he wouldn’t look at her. But even with only the lights from the garden illuminating the side of his face, she could see the broken look in his eyes.
