“I’m sore,” she commented, exploring her body. “But everything seems to be working.”
“No reason it shouldn’t.” Royce nodded, satisfied. “But you will wear a bandage for a while, and you must be careful not to reopen the wound. I’ll keep an eye on it to make sure there’s no infection, but the one thing in Kilham’s favour is that he seems to prefer his weapons clean. There was no rust on that blade at all.” He shook his head. “Bayonet wounds were not dissimilar, but a dirty blade did more damage than the cuts themselves sometimes.”
“I know war is hateful, but I cannot but be thankful for the skills you learned, Royce.” She put her hand on his. “Thank you. And thank you for rescuing me.”
“Hey.” Gabriel tapped her gently on her shoulder. “We were all there, you know. Giles kept him talking so that Jeremy and Evan and Royce could creep up behind him.”
“I remember hoping it was something like that. Because all I could hear was Giles being so…so…Giles, and all I could see…” she turned to him. “Was you, Gabriel, just behind him, staring at me.”
“Ohhh,” Gabriel’s beautiful green eyes filled with tears. “Don’t, Gwyneth. You’ll make me cry too.”
“And I believe I’m finished here,” Royce sighed and got off the bed. “No more moving around for a couple of hours at least. I know you’ll want to come downstairs at some point, so I’m going to ask you to rest, stay put and we’ll see how you do later on this afternoon.”
“All right,” she nodded. “I’ll be a good patient, Royce. I promise.”
“You’d better be, or there will be trouble.” He leaned over with a grin and flicked the tip of her nose. Then he left her with Gabriel.
“He didn’t kiss me. I wonder why.” Her thoughts rambled a little. She’d been expecting his lips on hers, and his face had held all the affection she’d become used to.
“Oh well, never mind.” She settled back as comfortably as she could. “Will you stay a little while, Gabriel?”
“If you’d like,” he said. “But you should sleep.”
“Kiss me first,” she demanded. “I could have been killed. Someone needs to damn well kiss me, just so that I’m reminded that I’m still alive.”
“Let’s see if we can do that…”
He leaned over, gently moving closer, doing everything he could to avoid irritating her wound. She turned her head to meet him, her eyes drifting to his lips, those ripely beautiful lips that would have made a woman weep with envy, but on Gabriel looked like total perfection.
He barely touched her, just a light butterfly kiss, but it was enough to relax her in some places and tighten others.
“Mmm.” She murmured her pleasure, then opened her mouth and touched him with her tongue.
Understanding the invitation, Gabriel parted his lips and sucked her in, duelling with her, sharing his taste with her, loving her with just those small parts of his body.
It was enough. And yet not enough. The murmur became a moan, and Gabriel drew back. “I think that has to be adequate for now, sweet one. Although there’s no such thing as enough for me where you’re concerned.”
Green eyes shone with love, and Gwyneth looked into them, seeing the measure of his affection clearly on display. She ran her fingers through his silky strands of hair. “I love you too, Gabriel.”
He settled next to her, as close as he dared, his arms around places that posed no danger to any injuries. “Sleep now. All will be well.”
She believed him. And slept.
For once, she woke to find him still there, sound asleep next to her. The light in the window had changed, and she judged it to be mid-afternoon, perhaps a little later.
The house was hushed, the birds outside sang occasionally and Gabriel snuffled softly beside her. It was idyllic, or would have been had she not now sported a bit of a hole in her side.
Experimentally, she moved, finding that although she definitely could feel the area, it was less troublesome than she’d expected. However, she remembered Royce’s words. Moving too much might open it up. Not something she wanted to experience.
So she lay quietly, her mind going back over the entire episode and trying to make sense out of Kilham’s ramblings. Was there a second will? She forced herself to recall the times she’d done her best to forget. The day the Earl made his will, she’d met the lawyer…what was his name? Mr Foll-something…Mr Follywhistle. That was it. She had wondered at his name when he was introduced, but he seemed quite pleasant and very efficient. He disappeared with her husband and they’d been closeted together for at least two hours.
Afterward, Kilham had smiled at her. A sweet smile, actually, and told her that he really had no choice but to leave his estate to his son. She would be cared for, he’d said.
That was all she could remember, and heaven knew she’d gone over those words many times during the bitter months at the Dower House.
She never bothered to ask him what he meant, because the likelihood of losing him had seemed impossible. So as to the veracity of Ernest’s claim? Well, she honestly didn’t know.
But he’d spouted so much vile nonsense. She’d had no lovers, nor had she done anything to divert her husband’s affections away from his son. Ernest had managed that himself, by his incessant tantrums and his final departure less than a month after they wed. If he’d not returned, she still believed her husband’s life would have been extended.
Sighing, she did her best to accept that those events in the past could not be changed.
What mattered was the
