Page 43 of Starlight and the Duke
“No, you know I am not.”
“There is nothing wrong with what we are doing, Rob. We are doing this because we…”Love each other and are desperate for a solution.“Because we care for each other and want to do the right thing. That means moving on with our lives.”
He cast her a look that warned he was not ready to move on.
But he would have to be.
She said nothing until they were back in the rig and on the road to Shoreham Manor. The sun was at its full height and the breeze had stilled to nothing.
Heat beat down on them, making her wish they had stopped for ices. But this was out of the question now, because they were too far outside of Brighton. Besides, she really needed to get home. She placed her hand on her stomach as the cramps became worse and made her want to double over. She would soon start bleeding, which meant Rob would not come into her bed and there would be no more nightly romps.
Not that any of their love endeavors could be called romps when their hearts were so deeply engaged.
She knew this news would break his heart. He was so certain love could fix everything, that his potent seed would leave her with child.
Perhaps in a perfect world this might happen, but they lived in a world that was often cruel and unjust. The simple truth remained: she was broken and could not be fixed.
Perhaps now he would understand this.
She gasped as the carriage wheels hit several ruts in a row and made her insides lurch. Now her stomach was cramping painfully.
“Oh, hell. Fiona, we’ve hit a bad stretch, but we’ll reach smoother ground in a moment. Did you hurt yourself when we bounced over that last rut?”
“No. It isn’t the ruts.”
He studied her, his expression one of worry. “Then why are you crying again?”
Chapter Eight
Rob’s heart physicallyached when Fiona told him the reason for her tears. “My monthly courses, Rob.”
He’d known disappointment before and had faced harsh circumstances, but seeing Fiona so undone truly broke him. Simply cut him to the quick.
“This is a minor setback,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her close as they rode together in the rig.
She viewed the onset of her monthly bleeding as proof she wasn’t worthy to be his wife, as though this was the only important requirement in a marriage. What did she expect him to do? Go off and bed a dozen lasses and marry the first one he got with child?
Sometimes, he just wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her till her teeth rattled.
Despite her protests, which were quite weak and ended swiftly, he joined her in her bed that night and the next nights following, for what sort of man would he be if he left her side when she was suffering?
In truth, it surprised him just how strong some of her cramps had been, consuming her almost to the point of vomiting. Until this moment, he had not realized there was anything beyond some inconvenient bleeding that kept a woman confined to the house for three or four days.
“Is it always this bad for you, Fiona?”
“Not always,” she had told him. “Some months are worse than others.”
They hadn’t coupled, merely shared the same bed, falling asleep with his arms around her, and then he’d crept back to his own chamber just before daybreak, each time angry and frustrated that they had to keep up this farce when all he wanted to do was be with her to comfort and protect her. It tore him up inside that he could do nothing to ease the pain caused by her own body.
Their week was now up.
He had wanted to talk Fiona into giving him another year or two with her, for he was merely in his early thirties and had plenty of time to father a son. But she was adamant that their time was up.
And now they were about to head over to Northam Hall and settle into rooms there for Gawain and Cherish’s week-long house party.
“Aren’t you eating?” Fiona asked on their last morning together as he sat quietly staring into his coffee and not bothering to fill his plate with the usual eggs and kippers.
“Not hungry.”
