Page 56 of Bedding the Marquess
Gideon’s chuckle died with a sharp protest from his ribs. “You make me laugh again and I shall be forced to hurt you as well.”
That time, Oliver actually chuckled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You’ve had yourdamned way with me, now allow me to see my wife!”
Gideon believed he’d demonstrated an extraordinary amount of patience with Oliver, and then with the physician he’d insisted he see.
“I assure you, Lady Swanleigh is well and resting,” said McCullom, the Scottish physician. The man was built more like a warrior than a healer, so his strength, coupled with Oliver’s was enough to prevent Gideon from moving anywhere in his injured state.
“And you cannot allow her to see you looking as you do,” growled Oliver as Gideon caught him in the abdomen with his elbow. His strength had returned in direct proportion to his proximity to Caroline. As soon as he’d been told she was in one of the bedchambers above, he could think of nothing other than reaching her. “Imagine what a fright it will give her when you reappear looking like a bloodied corpse.” Only that was enough to make Gideon pause in his efforts, and eventually, he allowed McCullom to clean the dried blood from his face and prod the worst of his injuries to assess their severity. Despite the swelling, it did not appear to be a fracture in his knee. His fingers and a few ribs were, indeed, broken, but they could only be bound and bandaged.
“Am I free to see Caroline now?” Gideon ground out, his frustration barely held in check.
“You’ll do for now, but I am not finished,” McCullom said rather grudgingly.
“I’ll not expire in the next hour, so I consider that good enough.” He prepared to slide from the table, but Oliver placed a staying hand on his arm.
“Caroline…she was injured during the abduction,” Oliver said gently.
Gideon’s entire body flashed hot and then cold. “You said she was fine.”
“She is,” McCullom chimed in as he finished drying his hands. “She was knocked down and suffered a blow to her abdomen.” The room tilted around Gideon. “That, coupled with the stress of the ordeal, caused some early contractions of her womb.”
All the blood drained from Gideon’s face. “W—What does that mean?”
“I have been monitoring her closely,” the physician explained. “Her pains have slowed some, but they are still present. The babe’s movements are continuing, which is a good sign; there has been no bleeding or loss of her waters. We will continue to watch for signs that she might—”
“Lose the baby,” Gideon finished for him. Oliver’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
Not that. He’d give his right arm if it meant saving Caro from that sorrow. She was safe and well, but he knew deep down she’d never be whole again if she lost their child because of this nightmare.
“Bring me to her,” he rasped.
It took somedoing, but Oliver and McCullom were able to assist Gideon in climbing the flights of stairs to the bedchamber where Caroline had been deposited. Each step sent a new throb of agony through his skull, the cut on his cheek pulled and seepedwith every grimace, undoing all the cleaning that had been done, his left knee screamed in pain, but he continued on through sheer determination. He had to lay eyes on her. He had to see for himself that she was well.
He was nearly shaking with anticipation, pain, and anxiety when they finally reached the proper floor. The physician pushed the door open to reveal Emily, looking far less angelic with her mussed appearance, stained dress, and tear-streaked cheeks. She’d been seated beside the bed containing a quiet shape curled into a protective posture, red-gold hair spilling in messy waves across the pillow. Emily shot to her feet once she registered who had arrived. Gideon released Oliver and leaned more heavily on the sturdy Scottish physician. Out of the corner of his good eye, he saw Emily stumble into her husband’s open arms and they held each other close, savoring one another’s presence. Gideon’s attention was riveted upon the woman tucked beneath the gray coverlet.
“She is finally sleeping,” Emily said, her words muffled against her husband’s chest. Oliver showed no sign of releasing her and Gideon could not blame him.
“Both Lady Swanleigh and the babe need all the rest they can get,” added McCullom, helping Gideon into the chair Emily had vacated. It still wasn’t close enough for him. He longed to crawl into bed with her and tangle their limbs, tuck her close until every possible inch of their skin met and they melded into one being. “Let me finish seeing to your wounds now.”
“I am fine.”
“You are not,” McCullom said firmly, but low enough that Caroline was not disturbed. “I humored you belowstairs, but you are in my care. I will not allow your health to suffer. The gash on your cheek will require stitches at the very least or it will heal into an ugly scar. I must clean your eye to ensure no lasting damage was done to the—”
“Do what you must,” Gideon snapped, unable to tear his eyes from his sleeping wife. She slept on her side with her cheek pillowed on one curled hand. Her long lashes fanned out across her cheeks, casting webs of dark shadows across her constellations of freckles. She looked exhausted yet peaceful. He was loathe to disturb her, but he could not resist taking her other hand in his and feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his battered fingers.
It was like a fresh wound upon his heart to see her in such a state, but he was also unspeakably proud of her for having survived it—not to mention inflicting a wound upon one of her captors. He could not live without her, that much had been confirmed that day. He’d gladly throw himself in harm’s way; he’d topple empires to see her safe and happy. She spoke to a part of him he hadn’t known existed. She gave him hope. She gave him purpose. She made him want to be a better man.
He hardly winced as the physician began cleaning his cheek and eye.
“I cannot begin to say how sorry I am for this situation—for the danger my past has put our wives in,” Oliver said in a low tone. He had yet to release his wife, as if he was afraid she might vanish if he did. Gideon couldn’t blame him; he’d have done the same if Caro were conscious. “It is my fault for believing I could ever lead a normal life and not have my sins catch up to me.”
Gideon’s head whipped in Oliver’s direction, tearing his face free from McCullom’s ministrations. It was on the tip of his tongue to damn Oliver for all the trouble his presence had caused; indeed, it would have been so easy for him to say that, with Caro lying helpless and Oliver’s appearance so conveniently like their sire’s. To direct all of his blind fury, his pain, his rage at Oliver would have felt so bloody good…but Gideon deflated instead.
“I do not blame you,” he croaked and turned back to McCullom and Caro. Gideon spoke not another word as his wounds were tended. He focused on the even rise and fall of his wife’s chest while Oliver and McCullom exchanged a few words around him. Dully, he heard Oliver and Emily leave for their home with the promise to return soon.
