Page 57 of Bedding the Marquess
It was a painfully slow process as McCullom cleaned and bandaged Gideon’s various scrapes and cuts, closed the wound in his cheek with no less than five neat silk stitches placed with a fine needle, and then quit the room to give him privacy.
No sooner had the door shut than Gideon was shucking his filthy clothing, cursing beneath his breath at every stab of pain the motions caused, and crawled into bed with Caro, curling up against her until they were fitted like two halves of the same whole. It would have been perfect and comforting, were it under different circumstances.
His fingers twitched as his hand hovered for several heartbeats before resting upon the swell of her abdomen and the child it guarded. He lay like that for several minutes, just existing, breathing her in and listening to the cadence of her life. He longed to hear her voice, but he dared not wake her. McCullom had said she needed her rest, and Gideon would be damned before he disturbed that.
There was a small ripple beneath his palm—a reminder of unseen strength and resilience that he could not ignore—and his heart skipped a beat.
“Hello, little one,” Gideon whispered. The words felt awkward on his tongue, but also necessary. “I need you to be strong…like your mother.Weneed you to be strong. I realize that is a lot to ask of someone so small, but I promise in return you will have a life filled with the love and security I never knew. You are so wanted. Your mother fought for you, and I need you to fight for her, too. It is not yet time for us to meet, so stay safelyin there for just a little while longer.” A rolling movement like a stroke of acknowledgment from inside Caro’s body was so strong that it lifted his hand. A hot tear slipped down Gideon’s cheek and dropped from his nose into his wife’s rose-gold curls.
Caroline awoke withher face buried against a warm, hard wall of masculine chest; crisp, dark hairs tickled her nose. It took her several moments to remember where she was and why, but her next thought was that she was in no pain. Well, except for those from her scrapes and bruises. The cramping in her abdomen had subsided sometime in the night enough to allow her to rest. She was stiff and sore, but to realize that Gideon had returned to her overwhelmed all of it. He looked terribly uncomfortable, wedged between her body and the wall on the narrow bed, and he smelled even worse, but none of that mattered in the face of her gratitude that he was there.
He must have felt her stir because his eye flew open—yes, singular eye. His left one was so badly blackened, it was swollen shut. A neat row of stitches followed the curve of his cheekbone.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “Caroline, my love, you are awake.” He cupped her cheek with a battered hand, three of his fingers tied together in some sort of splint. The relief shining in his silver eyes nearly moved her to tears because it was precisely how she felt upon seeing him, feeling him, hearing him. He enfolded her into his arms; though he squeezed her a little too tightly, she did not care one bit. It was right where she belonged.
“How are you feeling? No pains?”
She shook her head against Gideon’s throat. “Not for a while. But I do not know if that is good or…or if there is something else wrong—”
“Do not work yourself up over this,” he said before she could become overwrought and stroked her hair. “You rested, just likeyou needed to. The babe continued to move—so much, in fact, that I am baffled by how you were able to sleep through it.”
There was no stifling her soft laugh at his affected indignation. Even as exhausted and injured as he was, he continued to put her first.
She stiffened as he pushed himself into a seated position with a groan. “Well, this is miserable,” he mumbled as he tested his joints.
“Please do not leave.” Caroline grabbed for his uninjured hand. She’d been so worried she would never see him again that she was afraid of letting him go just yet.
“I am only going to ring for McCullom, darling,” he said and brought her hand to his split lip. “He requested that I let him know when you awoke.”
Caroline tilted her head and cupped his cheek. “Your poor face. You fared better after your pugilism exhibitions.”
“Yes, well, I was not bound to a chair during those matches.”
“Bound to a chair?” she squeaked and sat up as slowly and carefully as she could. Gideon rose from the bed and, not only was she granted an unencumbered view of his sculpted back and taut backside, but also all the mottled bruises covering his body. “Gideon!” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “What happened to you?”
He pulled the rope with a sigh. “Quite a lot. And I’m tired and in a fair amount of pain, so I’d rather not recount every detail at the moment.”
“And Oliver? Is he similarly…battered?”
Gideon scoffed as he pulled on his torn and soiled breeches with a mild sneer of exaggerated disgust. “Barely a scratch on him. The man’s unnatural.”
“I don’t understand…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “What do you mean? What was all this for?”
“As it happens, Mr. Black was quite the important man in his past profession and he made a great many enemies.”
Caroline could only sit back in shock. So many questions spun ’round in her mind, but she did not have time to answer them before there was a knock on the door and Dr. McCullom entered. He was dressed the same as the night before in a fresh outfit consisting of a crisp white shirt, cravat, and black breeches. He was followed closely by the beautiful dark-haired woman who’d brought them their water. Again, Caroline’s memory was tickled, and the woman’s identity came to her in a flash.
“You are Lady Juliette? Sister to the Earl of Hopesend?”
The woman smiled warmly. “You are correct, Lady Swanleigh. Dr. McCullom is my husband.”
“We do not spend as much time as we used to at this office; most of it has been taken over by my apprentice, Dr. Bianchi. He has been away on business these last two days, so I stayed here in case there were any urgent patients,” McCullom explained.
“And I enjoy helping when I can, as well as a regular change of scenery, so I came along. Neither of us expected quite so exciting an evening. I do hope both of you are feeling well; you certainly look much better than last night.” Gideon had made himself more presentable, though he looked rather more like a down-on-his-luck highwayman than a marquess with his injuries and deplorable clothing. Caroline was worried she did not look much better.
Lady Juliette held up the tray she carried. “I’ve brought some food for the both of you if you are feeling up to it.”
“Thank you,” Caroline almost sighed when she caught the scent of warm bacon. “You are a saint.”
