Page 50 of The Jilted Duchess
He overcame his hesitation, reached out, and pulled her gently into his arms.
She came willingly to him, resting against his chest, her breathing soft and shuddery. Hector felt as if he might go mad if he didn’t find out what had happened to her. Someone was going to have to pay for this. Blood would spill if he had his way. Whoever had dared to lay a finger on his wife would suffer for having done so.
“Nay one will touch ye ever again without yer permission,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure of that, I promise ye—except for right now.”
And he swept her up into his arms.
She didn’t resist, didn’t protest that she wanted to be set down. She allowed him to carry her up the stairs.
He passed a few of the maids along the way. “Run and prepare a warm bath for the duchess,” he ordered them. “Light a fire and fetch some tea.”
They hurried to do as he’d told them.
He carried her to her room and set her down carefully on the edge of her bed, kneeling before her. “What can I do for ye?” he asked, feeling helpless.
She shook her head and shivered.
He rose and went to the pile of blankets at the foot of the bed. Selecting the warmest, he wrapped it around her shoulders, hoping it would stop her shivering, but it didn’t seem to. She huddled, arms wrapped around herself.
“Hurry up with that damned fire,” Hector barked at a maid who was currently doing her best to light it.
“Don’t,” Alexandra whispered. “Don’t be angry with her. Nothing is her fault. She’s doing her best.”
“I just cannae bear to see ye like this,” he said. “I want ye to tell me what happened.”
“Would you just…” She took a deep, shuddery breath. “Would you just hold me? I’ll be all right, I will. Really. I just need a few moments to recover. If you’d sit with me…”
He was beside her in a heartbeat, his arms wrapped around her, crushing her against him. She leaned into him and exhaled slowly, and he could feel her body grow calmer. It was as if she was drawing on his strength, taking strength of her own from him.
He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. “Tell me who it was,” he said again. “Tell me who hurt ye.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t hurt, really,” she said. “I was only frightened. I’m all right now, I promise. There’s no need to do anything.”
He disagreed. Frightening his wife was every bit as bad as harming her. But he could see that she didn’t want to tell him what had happened. And things had been so uncomfortable between the two of them lately that he couldn’t bring himself to force her into anything she didn’t want. He wouldn’t press her. Not tonight.
But he wouldn’t rest until he had gotten answers.
“I love ye,” he said softly. “I love ye, Alexandra. I’ll nae let anyone hurt ye again.”
“I love you,” she whispered back.
He hadn’t realized how badly he had wanted to speak those words and hear them in return. He hadn’t realized how much a moment like this could mean to him. But it felt as if he had been waiting all this time for the moment they would finally be free enough to confess these feelings to each other—and to themselves.
How could she have undone him so completely? It was the last thing he’d ever expected, but he knew that he couldn’t deny it now that it had happened. It was real.
Ever so slowly, her shivers subsided, and at last she relaxed completely in his arms. He looked down at her and saw that she had fallen asleep.
He eased her down on the bed, careful not to jostle her awake, and pulled the blanket up to cover her. After a moment’s consideration, he added a second blanket as well. He wanted to be sure she stayed warm. It wasn’t very much, but it was all he could do for her right now.
The fire was prepared. He crossed the room, took the seat beside it, and settled in to wait. The last thing he would do right now would be to leave her alone. He would sit here until she woke.
But as it turned out, things didn’t go as he’d expected.
There was a knock at the door after only a few hours. He rose to his feet, meaning to tell whoever it was to go away and that the duchess wasn’t to be disturbed.
But it was Mrs. Hopsted, the housekeeper, who had come to the door.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Your Grace,” she said. “You have a visitor.”
