Page 98 of The Soldier
“I saw that order,” Emmie countered, turning on her side to regard him by firelight. “It named you as guardian, and I understand now why you had it drafted.”
“Drafted,” St. Just agreed, “but not signed. When I was in York yesterday, I had a different order signed, one naming you as her guardian.”
“You are one to talk about stubbornness.” Emmie closed her eyes and closed her fingers more tightly around his.
“Well, there’s more,” he said, turning to his side, as well, “and you might want to march me naked right outside and off to Rosecroft when you hear it.”
“Interesting picture. What have you done?”
“I visited Bothwell this morning,” he told her, holding her gaze and speaking very deliberately. “I did not mention the trust, which I regard as your exclusive province, but I did inform him of the guardianship.”
“And why did you take it upon yourself to have this discussion with our vicar?”
Your vicar, St. Just mentally corrected her.
“Because it was his affidavit that allowed me to petition for the order on your behalf,” St. Just said. He reached out with his free hand and drew a single finger along the firm line of Emmie’s jaw. How he loved the determination in that jaw and the texture of her skin and the way her eyes held his even when difficult things were to be faced.
“How would Hadrian have anything to do with Winnie?” Emmie asked in puzzlement.
“He visited your aunt while she was sick,” St. Just reminded her. “I expect he heard her confessions such as they were, and he certainly heard her dying wishes as regards the child. She wanted Winnie with you. Bothwell has no objection, by the way.”
“I know what she wanted, and I respect she thought that would be best for all concerned.”
“We are not going to argue this again, are we?”
“We are not.” Emmie reached across the space between them and set her hand on St. Just’s nape. “We’ve said what we need to say and done what we each thought was best for all, and your orders can be undone if need be. But it will all wait until morning. Come here, Devlin, and let me hold you.”
He shifted on the mattress and tucked his face against her shoulder, not even thinking of protesting. He loved her, and he had chosen to stay with her tonight, a dishonorable, painful, and just plain stupid decision, but he was damned if he’d regret it yet. He let a hand drift across the soft warmth of her stomach and hiked a knee across her thighs.
“Tell me if I’m too heavy,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
“You’re not,” she assured him, turning her face to kiss his temple. “You’re warm and you smell good and you feel just right.”
He nodded, echoing the sentiment in silence before falling into a dreamless and profoundly restful sleep. Emmie felt his body ease and his mind let go of the tumult of the day, while she tried to hold sleep at bay. She could not afford to consider at this point that St. Just might have the right of it. She could not afford to admit how good it had felt to come upstairs with him tonight, knowing Winnie slumbered on in safety below them. She could not afford to reflect on how much patience they had with each other when they argued now, how carefully they handled their differences.
So she succumbed to sleep in the end, and her dreams were not particularly sweet.
When she awoke in the morning, he was already stirring, propped on his elbow and regarding her with a severe expression.
“You’re awake.” She reached over and brushed his hair back from his forehead and made no protest when he captured her fingers and kissed them. There would be no more cuddling, but no artificial, silently recriminating propriety either.
“I am feasting on your morning beauty,” he replied, “but the natives are restless below, and a certain young lady on your couch needs a very stern talking to.”
“And a certain gentleman who did not get much dinner needs to break his fast,” Emmie agreed, “and a certain baron needs to heed nature’s call.”
“He’s already outside,” St. Just said, his smile not reaching his eyes. “I looked out the window, and nature’s call is attended to.”
“Fortunate. I do not want to leave this bed, Devlin.”
“Nor I.” The smile did reach his eyes, but it was so, so sad.
“Just hold me,” she said, closing her eyes lest he see the desperate plea in them. He settled his naked weight over her one last time, his body caging hers in warmth and tenderness as his cheek rested against hers.
“Just for a bit,” he agreed softly, but she clung tightly, and she couldn’t help wishing and wishing… She eased her hold, and he shifted off her and out of the bed. He was a soldier, after all, a man who had done the impossible and suffered the unbearable on so many other occasions.
He tossed her a dressing gown. “How do we do this?”
“This?” Emmie sat on the bed and flipped her braid outside the wrapper.
