Page 35 of The Duke's Impetuous Darling
He wished to comb his fingers through her lovely hair. But he stopped, couldn't. Shouldn't take advantage.
But he had. Hadn't he? Her presence here proved it.
Hell.
What had he said? Done?
He recalled that last night as she bathed his face and spoke to him, he dwelled on happier times, when his mother and father were alive. When William too was with them. Laughing, climbing a tree, playing with their toy soldiers in the nursery to recreate old battles.
He put a hand to his brow. Last night he'd also had visions of his men, fallen, bleeding, cut to ribbons, their voices pleading. The blast of nine pounders, the shriek of howitzers. The buzzing in his head.
Now clear.
But what of tomorrow and tomorrow?
He slid from the bed, swallowing shame at his weakness, fury at his need that he'd be so mindless as to welcome her to his rooms and she'd...do what?
He spied the tea tray. The porcelain bowl, towels, the bucket servants would use to haul up hot water.
Oh, she hadn't bathed him, had she?
No.He had on his breeches and a nightshirt.
He sat on the chair and watched her sleeping. At peace, exhausted. Through the mist of his memories of last night, he remembered her patience and her care of him.
He rose to the window and pulled back the drapes and curtains. The sun brightened the horizon. She must leave. Even now, house maids were scurrying to light fires and empty chamber pots. Footmen were about carrying heavy items for baths. And it was Christmas morning which meant everyone would be up and about preparing to go to church.
He went to her side and sat near, one hand to her shoulder. "Sweetheart. Bee. Wake up, please. Bee?"
She fluttered her lashes, but smiled at him. Unafraid, even unconcerned where she was, she reached outside the covers, put her hands to his shoulders and drew him down to her. "How are you?"
"Well. Better." He pushed away but she caressed his cheeks.
"I'm glad. I was so worried. These are the terrors that plague you." In her tone was half a question.
"Yes. We can talk later. You must get up, my darling, and leave here."
She sighed, a moue of discontent on her face. "I liked sleeping with you."
He snorted in laughter. "Did you now?"
She pressed a kiss to her fingertips and put those to his lips. "I want to do it again."
He said nothing. Oh, he wanted her, yes. But could he saddle her with his mindless rages? His empty minutes? Hours? God knew how long he'd be afflicted this way. In his worst moments, he thought he would be forever damned to suffer them.
"I looked for your nightshirt last night." She licked her lips, suddenly sheepish.
"That was kind of you. I see you did not totally disrobe me."
"That was not my intention. Though..." She widened her eyes. "Perhaps it was."
"Minx." He touched her nose. "You must leave."
She glanced around. Not jumping out of bed to save her reputation. "About your special license?"
“What of it?”
"I never doubted that you wished to marry me," she said. "The license, the very sight of it, proved one thing to me."
