He made a face, but took the tray on his lap and sipped cautiously at the soup. She watched for any signs that his stomach might be rebelling. All seemed to go well.
She rubbed at her aching back. She had sat all night in the chair by the window and it had left her sore.
‘May I pour you some tea?’ she asked, hoping he would not take a pet and throw it at her head in the way of a wilful child. Men were like that when they were ill. Her last husband had been anyway. ‘It is a tisane recommended by the doctor to settle your stomach.’
He eyed the teapot suspiciously.
‘It will do you good. I made it myself.’
Alistair frowned.
‘You don’t believe me?’
He leaned back against the pillows. ‘Of course I believe you. What is in it?’
‘Herbs, mostly,’ she said. ‘Something for the pain. I will drink some, too, to ease my aching muscles. I haven’t ridden so much for years.’
The wary look on her husband’s face eased, but still he waited until she had taken more than one sip before he tried his.
‘Gads,’ he said, finally putting down his empty cup. ‘I am exhausted. And the d—I beg your pardon, the blasted room is still lurching about like a drunken pig at a party.’
She giggled. His surprised look caused her to put a muffling hand over her mouth. ‘I beg your pardon. The image took me by surprise.’
He grinned at her. ‘You don’t suppose it is the tea making us silly.’
‘No. I think it is the relief.’ She was extraordinarily relieved that her husband hadn’t died out there in that field. ‘You need to sleep.’
‘As do you, I think. Go. Seek your bed.’
His words were a kindness she had not looked for. The idea was tempting. ‘The doctor said you must not be left alone.’
‘Ask one of the footmen or my valet to—’
She shook her head. ‘I am your wife. It is my responsibility.’
A smile touched his lips. ‘You are a very dutiful duchess, are you not?’
‘As is right, Your Grace.’ After all, he had taken her in out of the goodness of his heart. She kept telling herself that, because having done so, why would he then turn around and try to harm her? If only she could be sure. It seemed odd that only the tea or chocolate she drank alone was ever touched. Except for that one day when he had changed his mind about joining her. He had definitely intended to drink that tea. She was sure. Almost sure.
If only she could stop her thoughts from going around and around and out and say what was on her mind. ‘Jaimie looked upset when he left.’
‘He was angry about the ruin of a good saddle.’
She blinked. ‘He surely did not blame you?’
‘Wear and tear,’ he said, but his voice was harsh.
‘You blamed him?’
‘Julia, let it go.’
She inhaled a sharp breath, then let it go with a nod. She would not argue with a man whose head must be aching.
‘Let us get you comfortable for sleep, Your Grace. You are sure to feel better in the morning.’
He gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘So, we are back to your gracing each other to death. You, too, need to rest. You spent last night sitting up with me, did you not?’
Back to that argument. A smile escaped from her at his tenacity. ‘Do not worry about me. I will lie down on thechaiseover there by the window.’