The following day they went to see Sarah Davenport and visited with her and the baby.
"You were very brave," Arabella said as she admired the baby. "It was almost ten hours, yet you hardly even let a peep out of you."
"If only Little John were as pacific as his mother," Alexander joked good-naturedly, and got a kiss from his wife.
Blake put his arm around his wife, and Arabella snuggled into him.
"What word from the Continent?"
"As we guessed. The French people adore Napoleon. There will be war as soon as he has the forces he wants and the weather improves. Sarah and I will be going to London now. It's been five weeks since Sarah had the baby and she's looking and feeling very well."
"But you were never in the Army, were you?" Arabella asked.
"No, but an army needs so many provisions and other items. That is where I excel," he said smoothly, "at finding things people need. It's what merchants do, after all."
He and his wife exchanged a warm smile.
Blake and Arabella stared at them. They were acting most oddly, but it wasn't really any of their business.
Besides, they had enough things to worry about themselves with her memory only coming back in fits and starts, and her having to try to cope with living an ordinary life when she felt she had so many gaps in her head.
"Glad to see you both looking so well," Sarah said with a smile. "Anyway, head on over to see Jonathan and Thomas, and we shall no doubt see you in London."
"Hopefully not on our way to the Continent," Blake said fervently.
"Amen to that," Sarah agreed.
They visited Jonathan at the Vicarage next. He was preparing to go into the service again as an Army chaplain. His wife was resigned to the fact that unless he could get special permission, she was going to have to remain behind.
"Pamela thinks she might be expecting, you see. I'd be really grateful if you would examine her, Blake. I mean, it's early days yet, but just give her a list of things to do and not do, and I want her to stay with Charlotte."
"And I'd like Arabella to stay with them both."
Arabella cast her husband a long look, but only when they had left the Deverils' home did she challenge him. "I don't want to be left at home. I need to be with you."
"You have no idea what the conditions will be like--"
"Do you honestly think I'm going to be safer here alone than with you?" she said with an impatient look.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "I don't know!" he admitted after a time.
"If that's the case, we stay together. All right?"
He leaned over and kissed her, and she smiled. "I remember this carriage for sure."
"I'm glad."
They snuggled together for a time, until she asked softly, "Do you think we can share a bed again soon? I miss having you by my side."
He sat up straight. "I miss you too. But I'm not so sure I can trust myself."
"I trust you. That should be enough."
"I only wish it were. I have so many terrible fears."
Arabella took his face in her hands and kissed him. "We can't let our fears ruin what we have. I love you."
"How can you be sure? You don't remember…"
"I don't need to remember the past to see what a wonderful man you are now."
"Soon, I promise."
‘Please, make it very soon," she said, tenderly cupping his cheek.
"I need to be sure, my darling, that you being with me isn't going to cause any more misery for you than it already has."
She shook her head. "Misery is not a word I would ever use to describe my life with you, Blake."
"Please God it stays that way," he sighed, and held her close.
Blake moved Arabella from the inn into the Eltham townhouse in Bath at the end of another week, now certain that she had healed well, and was fit to resume a modified social round.
He wanted to go back to London, but the journey seemed too long, and he knew he would have to visit the Jeromes' house at some point.
But every time they intended to go, Blake would always come up with an excuse at the last minute, until even Arabella could see he was avoiding it for some inexplicable reason.
He admitted with a shaky sigh, "I know it will be my home eventually, and that we told them we wanted to settle there. But the truth is that it's the place where you had your accident, and all my hopes for us were blighted. I don't think I can face it. I don't want you to remember if it's going to be too painful."
"But isn't it also the place where we were happy?" she asked gently.
Blake nodded. "Yes, yes it was."
"Then all the more reason to visit. I might be able to recall that too."
He sighed. "Very well, we shall go in the morning."
Arabella asked with seeming nonchalance, "In that case, can I have a bath? And will you help me?"
"Certainly, my dear."
Soon the tub in the sumptuous bathing chamber was full to the brim, and Blake had scrubbed her back and helped her in the impersonal way he had done ever since she had been attacked.
He helped her wash her long hair, and wrapped it in a towel. He sat her in a chair by the fire as he brushed it out. When he was finished she stroked his cheek and began to plant soft kisses all over his face and throat.
"Arabella, really, maybe we shouldn't-"
"I want to. I want you, Blake."
"Do you remember any of this?" he whispered.
"It feels so familiar. I don't think I can recall a time when I wasn't in your arms like this."
Blake kissed her with complete abandon then, and lifted her and laid her down on the bed. She responded to him ardently, stroking her hands up and down his broad back and shoulders, the strong base of his neck, before curling her fingers into his hair to deepen the kiss.
"Arabella, it's too good," he groaned after a time. "We must stop. You're not yourself."
"Then who am I? I feel newly born, as though your kisses have brought me to life."
Blake knew he ought to stop, but he was so fascinated with her obvious pleasure in his kisses and caresses that he couldn't help himself. Her response was as warm as it had always been, nay, warmer, for there were no shadows of the months they had suffered without each other, the quarrels they had had. There was only the present, and it was unlike anything he had ever encountered.
"Look at me, Arabella," he whispered.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, stroking her small delicate fingers down his lightly bristled cheek, tracing his lips with her forefinger. "I am looking. I truth I have never seen such a splendid sight as you. You're everything a wife could dream of and more."
She kissed him then and moved under him so alluringly that Blake knew he was lost. "I'll be right back."
He went to his room to get his protectors, and then divested himself of his clothes with his back to her. He was already so hard it was best to tie one himself now rather than wait until later, but as he came back to the bed he warned her, "If it hurts at all, you tell me immediately. Do you understand?"
"You won't hurt me. We love each other."
"I don't want to hurt you. Just relax and let me love you."
He was so careful and tentative that she eventually grew impatient. "It feels lovely, darling, but I think there's something more you're not showing me."
"Oh, blast and darn." He took her hand and laid it on his thigh and her eyes widened. "I want you so badly, but I'm terrified."
She stared for a time. "I can sit on you, can't I? I seem to recall we both liked that."
Before he could stop her, he was on his back and she was astride him. He tensed as if he was expecting pain himself, but she slid down him with a contented sigh. "Ah, there it is. I could hardly forget this."
He had made sure she was more than wet and ready. Even with the condom, she set up a sinuous motion and after a few strokes she was smiling in delight.
He poured himself into her in an agony
of desire and relief, and his release, when it came few moments later, was cataclysmic.
Blake was certain he had been struck by lightning. His orgasm went on and on, ripping through him, until at last she collapsed on top of him. He gasped out her name and lay still panting, completely unable to move.
Her arms went up around his shoulders, pulling him upwards into a sitting position so that he cradled his head upon her bosom and cried in relief.
She kissed him on the lips so tenderly he wept anew with the beauty of it all. God, how the fates above had blessed him. He had never known such joy and happiness.
It was evident from looking at her eyes that she loved him. He wasn't sure how it had come to pass, but she did. He didn't care if she could never recall the past. Their love had endured despite her loss of memory. They would just build a new life together, as he had said, one day and night at a time.
He lifted her off him carefully, cleaned them both, and returned to the bed. She put her hand on him, and he felt himself go rigid immediately.
He didn't dare risk it again, but he could tease her as he had once done. Soon she was writhing under his hands, and begging him to take her once more.
"Why not!" she pleaded when he steadfastly refused despite her orgasm growing in intensity, wave after wave of pure molten pleasure.
"Because I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm going to die of disappointment if you don't love me again."
He tied on another prophylactic, prepared to surrender to her will, but when she asked him to make love on top of her he quailed. "I'm so big, so heavy."
"It will be fine."
"I don't think-"
"Stop thinking. You're being a doctor again. Be my husband."
"I love you so much, Arabella, I can't stop being either. Tell me if-"
She pulled him into her and he uttered a strange choking sound.
She uttered a gasp and kissed him, and finally he was deeply inside her. She clasped his buttocks and rode the crest of their passion, crying out in pure joy as he exploded into her with a groan of relief and knew true peace and love at last.
Arabella and Blake knew genuine bliss for a fortnight. She had never appeared happier, she had seemingly healed, and she had no more memories return of any sort, disturbing or otherwise. It was the greatest joy Blake had ever known. It was so foreign to him, that his mind worried at first like a dog with a bone, picking it all over in every minute detail.
But then he remembered what she had said—to be her husband, not a doctor. So he forced himself to be optimistic, and after a time he allowed himself to enjoy their love for what it was, a gift from the gods, without questioning it or fearing it.
Inevitably, though, the real world intruded for them when Arabella suggested that they really ought to go to Jerome Manor, visit, and head back to London.
A letter from Horse Guards also arrived that afternoon to request his presence on the first of May to discuss his future.
"Drat and blast," he sighed, and had handed his wife the letter.
She had hugged her to him by way of consolation, but one thing had led to another. They had made love all afternoon as a storm had broken over the town, drenching Bath in cool April showers
They lay in bed in the twilight, listening to the rain patter on the roof. "Now I don't feel so guilty about dragging you into bed."
"Guilty, love? Never." He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "We need to make the most of this while we can."
She peeped up at him with a small smile. "Do you suppose we'll always be like this?"
"I certainly hope so. I can't think of anything I enjoy more than snuggling up with you, seeing your eyes gaze up at me with such love."
She stroked her hand down him intimately. "I enjoy all that too, but the lovemaking part is so magnificent, I can't--"
"I can't either," he said.
She reached for a protector and tied it on with by now skilled hands. He made love to her until she could barely even say his name, and he felt as though every part of their bodies had been fused into one blissful whole, a miraculous oneness with no beginning and end.
When they had finished and were once again sleepily in each other's arms, she said, "You know what I'm going to say."
"Then the answer is yes. I can't live my life being frightened all the time. I've spent too many years doing that, ever since I found out about my mother and sister."
She sat up and kissed him, and began to swing her long legs out of the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"To pack."
His eyes sparked as she lit a candle and stood poised in front of the wardrobe. He saw her bare body reflected front and back, and was reminded of the night before they had wed. If only he could turn the clock back to that lost joy and innocence.
But Arabella had no recollection of the evil, only the joy. Like the candlelight driving back the darkness of the storm-tossed night, their love could push the darkness out of their lives.
He stood up and went over to embrace and caress her from behind. He smiled at her, his hazel eyes aglow with longing as their eyes met in the mirror.
"Plenty of time for packing later. Right now I want you to let me love you all over again."
She tried to step towards the bed but he shook his head. "Right here. Right now," he said, positioning her in front of the mirror and moving to press into her throbbing feminine core.
Her blue-violet eyes sparked in answer. "Well, since you put it so nicely, how can I possibly refuse?"
The next morning, Blake recalled with delight the thrilling night they had shared, and had actually hoped that he could convince her to defer their trip once more.
She could see what he was trying to do. Much as she adored his methods for distracting her, she knew the time had come for them to go back and face whatever fears haunted them both.
Blake felt terribly gloomy as they neared their destination. But they were welcomed so warmly by the Jeromes that he could not help but smile back at each of the family and return their hugs and kisses.
He felt as though he were poised on a knife edge as he walked into the house.
But Arabella, on the other hand, seemed completely calm and unflustered, so that he allowed himself to relax.
He immediately tensed again like a cobra about to strike, however, when he discovered that both Adam and Oliver were in the drawing room, and indeed, had been paying court to Ellen and Georgina in their absence.
Was he imagining things, or did the brothers pay special attention to Arabella and inquire after her health more than once?
Arabella was calm as always, and did not seem to react to her cousins or the house in any particular way. She enjoyed everyone's company, and only Blake seemed to be uneasy.
He began to dread going up to their old chamber as the evening progressed. It would only serve to remind him…
She nudged him with her foot. "I said, darling, it was a long trip, so I'm sure no one will mind if we retire early."
"What, oh, er, no."
Adam seethed and Blake looked at him once more. Surely he wouldn't have dared…. But someone had attacked his wife. Adam and Oliver would bear watching. If anyone had had a reason to be furious it was them.
Of course, it could have been Martin or Samuel. There was certainly something very wrong with the grim-faced, silver-eyed Martin. Something terrifying within him which defied explanation.
Or it could just have been some madman, a passing vagabond perhaps?
He looked at Adam and Oliver again. Surely neither could be the kind of fiend who could have done something so heinous to Arabella?
He cursed his own stupidity, suddenly feeling danger all around him. He should never have allowed her to convince him to return here. It could only spell disaster for them both.
He took his wife's arm and went upstairs. He decided to write to Antony Herriot at the clinic again in the morning and check with the local authorities. Perhaps that string of attacks and d
eaths so close to he and Arabella in London and now in this district had not been so random after all.
"Are you coming to bed?" she asked impatiently as he checked that the door was locked for the tenth time.
"Oh, er, yes. The wind is picking up. It's made me a bit unsettled."
But being back in their old room they had shared so passionately before their wedding had prompted a few pleasant memories for him too.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 96