Page 161 of Peasants and Kings
“Do you accept?” I prodded Lorenzo.
“Yes,” he said simply. “But Raphael has dishonored our family by breaking the rules during mortal combat. The tables have turned, and you have every right to demand restitution for his failure to honor them. That is a stain on our family name that we do not accept.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I wish for peace between our families, now that Raphael is gone.”
“Let it be done then,” Angelo replied.
Tension eased out of me though I refused to let my shoulders droop. I nodded, and then grasped the hem of my ruined wedding gown and tore a strip from it so I could wrap it around my bleeding palm.
While the Foscari and the Moretti were rising from their seats and talking amongst themselves, I went back to Hadrian’s side and squatted down next to him.
His eyes were cracked open, a gruesome smile stretched across his face. “I had no idea you were such an orator.”
I shot him a wobbly smile. “Neither did I.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”
“I didn’t know until a few days ago.”
A dreamy expression flashed across his face. “Oh,” he said, right before he passed out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I turned my face to the sky, letting the moon kiss me in greeting. I was alone on the balcony while Hadrian slept soundly in bed.
He’d been transported back to my ancestral home where a surgeon had tended to his injuries. He’d stitched what could be stitched, repaired what could be repaired. Due to the slashing of his hamstring, Hadrian might never walk normally again, the doctor had said.
Only time would tell.
He had a broken nose, cracked and bruised ribs, a concussion, a sliced hamstring, and a deep stab wound.
And he was still recovering from an accidental poisoning.
He was lucky to be alive.
We both were.
The surgeon had seen to my hand after he’d tended to Hadrian, and then he’d taken the time to examine me. I was healthy, and I cried when the doctor said he believed my baby was healthy as well.
Reluctantly, I went into the bedroom, but left the balcony doors open to allow fresh countryside air to circulate. Fragrant beauty was carried on the wind.
I touched Hadrian’s forehead and then slid my hand down to his chest. He wasn’t hot, and I hoped that meant the antibiotics were working their magic, but it was still too soon to tell.
“Think you can slide that hand a wee bit lower?” came his throaty growl.
I yanked my hand away. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“How am I supposed to be asleep when you’re groping me?”
“I’m not groping you,” I said.
“Aye, and that’s the problem.” He cracked his lids. “Can I have some water?”
I nodded and then went to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. I poured him a glass. He was already propped up against the pillows, so it took very little effort to get the liquid and pain pills into him.
“I can’t believe I’m accepting hospitality from the men that stole you from my own home,” he stated. “I wish we were back on my island. I don’t trust your family.”
“That makes two of us,” I remarked dryly. “But you’re not well enough to travel. You need to rest, Hadrian.”
“Where are they?” Hadrian asked.
