Page 53 of His Mad Duchess
She looked up at him then, and the words ought to have been a comfort. They almost were. But comfort was a dangerous thing—the sort of thing that lingered and made one forget how quickly the ground could give way.
“For now,” she said lightly, as though it were no more than an idle observation. “People do not stay forever, Sebastian. Storms pass, and so do people.”
CHAPTER 17
Sebastian woke with a violent start, breath catching as a cry shattered the stillness of the night.
“Don’t!” The word tore through the silence, ragged, desperate.
For a heartbeat, he thought himself mistaken, that it was some trick of his dreaming mind. But then the sound came again. It came broken and strangled, echoing down the corridor.
“No, not again?—”
Margaret.
He sat upright, the covers pooling at his waist, his heart beating hard against his ribs. The house was silent save for her cries, each one a jagged thread that pulled tight around his chest. His first impulse was to move, to run to her, but he froze, fingers digging into the mattress.
She had been explicit. No shared rooms. No indulgence of weakness. No place for him when the past tormented her. It was her boundary, and he had promised to honor it.
Another cry, sharper now, like the voice of someone drowning.
“Papa! Mama!”
Sebastian’s hand raked through his hair, his throat tight. God help him, he could not lie still while she suffered so.Yet what if she wakes up and finds me there?Would she see only trespass, betrayal, a man unable to obey her simplest plea?
But then her scream broke the air, raw and terrified, and his doubts crumbled. Whatever vows she had spoken in the safety of daylight could not bind him now.
He swung his legs to the floor, the chill of the boards biting at his bare feet. The night air was cool against his chest, for he had gone to bed without clothing. For a moment, he nearly rushed out as he was, but he thought better of it.
He seized his trousers from where they hung over a chair, dragging them on with fumbling haste. The drawstrings tangled beneath his fingers, but he scarcely noticed. A linen shirt lay crumpled nearby, and he shrugged into it without fastening the buttons, the fabric hanging loose, gaping over his chest.
The corridor stretched before him in darkness, broken only by the faint spill of moonlight from the stairwell. BetweenMargaret’s cries, there was silence, heavy, unnatural, pressing at his temples.
Each step forward felt both forbidden and necessary.
By the time he reached her door, his pulse was a storm within him. He stood a moment, his hand hovering over the latch, torn between fear of her rejection and the desperate need to end her torment. He had never felt so powerless—or so certain—that he could not remain apart.
With a breath that trembled, he set his palm to the door.
He just could not ignore her pain. The door gave way beneath his hand, and candlelight wavered across the chamber, revealing her twisting in the sheets, caught in some invisible torment. Her face was wet with tears, her lips parted on broken cries.
God above… Margaret.The sight of her, so strong in daylight yet so undone in sleep, cut through him with a force that stole his breath.How long has she borne this alone? How many nights have I left her to fight shadows with no one at her side?
Before he could think better of it, he crossed the room and bent to her side. “Margaret,” he whispered, though she could not hear. His hand hovered, uncertain, but when another shudder seized her frame, the choice was made for him. He slipped beneath the coverlet, the linen cool against his skin, and gathered her gently into his arms.
At first, she resisted, thrashing, her body taut with fear. But slowly, beneath his steady hold, her trembling began to ease. Her breathing faltered, then found a calmer rhythm, each breath soft against his chest. The damp of her tears clung to his skin, and still, he did not move.
A faint murmur slipped from her lips, broken and trembling. “Please… do not leave me… please…” The words pierced the quiet like a blade, soft though they were, as if torn from some hidden wound.
Sebastian’s chest tightened, his breath catching. That she should beg so helplessly, even in sleep—it undid him.
“Hush,” he whispered, his lips brushing her temple. “I will not leave you. I’m here. You are safe.” His hand moved instinctively, smoothing the damp strands of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek with a touch so gentle, it startled even him.
A sigh left her, softer this time, her body yielding against him as though she believed him—even in dreams.
Sebastian lay still, scarcely daring to breathe himself, lest the spell break. She was safe now… or seemed so, her small form curved trustingly against him, her warmth seeping into his very bones.
She stirred faintly, another soft sigh escaping her lips, her breath feathering against his chest.
