Page 22 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
And then he was swinging her down to the ground and holding her by the shoulders as she emptied the contents of her stomach.
Oh, how she wished she had not drunk that chocolate. He guided her a little way away and she hung limply on his arm, bent over, fearing to raise her head in case the dizziness should begin again.
Patient and strong, he stood beside her until at last she felt she dared stand upright. A blur of vision, a feeling of spinning. She held still a moment longer.
‘All right now?’ he asked in a voice rather devoid of warmth. A clean handkerchief, neatly folded, appeared before her face.
Shuddering with distaste, she wiped her lips. ‘Better.’ How horrible a way to end what had been mostly a lovely morning. ‘I beg your pardon. I cannot understand what is going on.’ She pushed away from him and leaned against the coach.
When he came closer, she waved him off. ‘I will be better in a moment.’ She hoped. Her head was still floating above her shoulders. Her stomach roiled at the thought of any movement.
‘Perhaps if you sat in the carriage—’
‘It must be the carriage that does this to me.’
‘Likely so.’ He sounded almost bored.
Feeling steadier, she risked a glance at his face. His eyes were hard, his lips thin.
His face softened as he looked at her, became concerned. He dived inside the carriage and returned with a flask. ‘Perhaps some brandy will help?’
Despite his obvious distaste, he clearly was trying to be kind, but instinctively, she knew brandy was the last thing she needed. ‘No, thank you.’
He blew out a breath and glanced around. ‘I wish I had thought to bring along a flask of water.’
She closed her eyes and opened them again. No senses swimming. She walked a step or two. No heaving stomach.
‘How much longer before we reach our destination, do you think?’
He frowned. ‘An hour at most.’
‘Then we should continue. I think I shall manage.’
An odd look passed across his expression. She could not tell quite what it meant. She didn’t know him well enough. It could be anger. After all, he was not the sort of man who would relish taking care of anyone else. Or it might have been sympathy.
‘As you wish,’ he said. He took her elbow, supporting her again. As if she was some sort of fragile invalid.
He helped her back into the carriage without a word. When she was settled in one corner, he took the other, stretching out his long legs, and when the carriage started, he stared grimly out of his window, their earlier accord nowhere in evidence.
This was not how she had wanted to spend the day with him. She had wanted to show him she was not such a bad choice for a wife.
Moisture welled behind her eyes. Now she was weepy. This was not like her. She blinked them back. ‘I really am sorry,’ she whispered.
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes as cold as a grey winter sea. ‘What can’t be cured...’
Must be endured, she finished in her mind. She’d ruined everything. She shivered.
He reached across the carriage, picked up her shawl and wrapped it around her, his gentleness surprising. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Let us get rid of this...’ he pulled at the ribbons of her bonnet ‘...and make you more comfortable.’
Startled, she could only stare at him as he skilfully divested her of the hatpin and then lifted the bonnet clear of her hair. She let go a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’
‘Rest. We’ll be there soon.’
She nodded and clutched at the shawl, knowing she must look a fright, with her hair in disarray, her gown rumpled. She leaned her head back against the squabs and closed her eyes.
The carriage jolted and turned.
Julia opened her eyes. Oh, no. She must have fallen asleep. Again? This was so unlike her. And once more she was leaning against her husband’s broad chest and he had one arm around her shoulders, keeping her steady. She struggled to sit up and he released her instantly.
