Page 26 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue
She nodded again, more weakly this time.
“I am so tired, Evan.” She sank down on her pillow, face first, her body curled on its side with her legs tucked to her chest. “I just want to sleep.”
He could see how her revelations had drained her. He came closer to her and ran a hand over her hair. “Yes, let’s sleep, my beautiful love.”
The sound of her regular breathing carried to him almost immediately. Feeling restless, as though he would never sleep, he nonetheless reclined beside her. The next thing he knew, he awoke to hear her being sick in a basin.
He felt sick himself for having encouraged her to drink to excess. He went to her and held her hair out of the way as her body spasmed.
Each spasm was like a whip cutting into him.
Damn. What was the matter with him treating her like that last night?
But he had to have his answers, and now he had them.
Once her retching ended, she staggered back to their bed and collapsed. He ran and got another basin, filled it with water and gathered some cloths. He went to the bed and laid a cool, wet cloth on her forehead. He kissed her brow.
“I am so sorry, my love. I should not have encouraged you to drink so much last night.”
She laughed with a fragile sound. “I am the one who drank all that wine like a glutton.” She took a deep breath, but an uneven one, and she moaned.
Please don’t let her be ill again. I couldn’t bear it.
Guilt sliced through him, and an ache spread through his tightened stomach. He wet another cloth and replaced the one on her forehead with it. Perhaps if he could make her cooler, she’d feel better faster. Could she tolerate a tea yet? Or should he give her a little more wine?
He bit his lip.
He’d never had to nurse a lover through the aftereffects of a night of decadence before. No, in the past, after the bedding, he’d be long gone.
She opened her eyes. Her pale face and red-rimmed eyes should have repelled him. Instead, she had never looked dearer to him. Hating the news he must tell her, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “My love, I must go to Brighton and take care of some business. But I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”
“Perhaps I should start thinking about returning to Boston.”
He almost gasped aloud with shock. “Why would you say something like that?”
And he might add, how could she say something like that after all they had shared these past weeks? And last night, she had shared the deepest secrets of her heart with him. How could she possibly think of leaving him now?
“I just think that I should,” she said.
“But you promised to attend the Christmas ball with me. The Wicked Widows’ League Ball.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You promised to be wicked with me in the gardens.”
She gasped, her eyes lighting with amusement despite the continued paleness of her face. “I promised no such thing!” She slapped at his arm. “Fiend! To have such an idea. It will be too cold for such antics. We would likely be caught.”
“We will not be caught, and I will keep you warm, love.”
“And just how would you keep me warm in such frigid temperatures?”
“I will buy you a long mink coat.” He stroked her hair. “Though the fur will pale in significance against the beautiful color of your hair.”
“Evan, I think it would be safer for me to go home.” She bit her lip. “I am not as brave as I thought I was. The coward in me grows as Christmas grows nearer.”
“You’re afraid of attending a party with so many people? I understand. They are not just people but titled people, just like Lady Amesbury, the one who rejected you. I can understand how you would feel that way. But it won’t be like that. These people accept others and their differences, and they love to enjoy themselves. They are very compassionate ladies and their gentlemen friends.”
“No, that’s not it. I am not afraid of attending the Christmas ball, though I admit to some nervousness. This is something far more important, a matter of the heart, and the consequences of making a misstep would be devastating.”
She sounded serious now. His chest tightened as alarm flashed through him. “No, you stay right here.” He grabbed the back of her neck lightly. “Promise me that you’ll be here waiting for me when I return.”
He’d go mad with worry if she wouldn’t promise. And if she did promise, then he’d have to keep telling himself that she was too good a person to break such a promise. Dare he hope that she might be even a little in love with him? Too in love to break his heart?
