To Protect and to Cherish

by Becky Riker

  His eyes raked over her form, “Are you going to stay in here to make me more comfortable?”

  Her heart skipped a beat, “If that would help you rest, I would.”

  He propped himself up on his elbows and looked more closely at her, “Rest?”

  She knew what he was asking, but before she could get into that topic, she needed an answer, “What shall I say to Tellem?”

  He grunted and flopped back into his pillow, “Tell him go west. I don’t want to deal with the grove of hickory.”

  Jillian reached out and squeezed her husband’s hand, “I’ll go pass on the message.”

  She tried to rise, but he pulled on her hand. She looked back at his face to find he wore an expression that looked almost vulnerable.

  “You’re coming back?”

  She placed a second hand on his, “As soon as I can.”

  Oswin was pacing the hall; he looked up as soon as the door opened.

  “Please let Tellem know his grace would like to go west to avoid the hickory grove.”

  Oswin nodded, “Go west?”

  She nodded, “His grace will call you if he needs anything else. He is going to rest for a while.”

  Jillian thought she saw the hint of a smile touch the man’s eyes before his professional mien returned.

  Jillian found her husband sleeping in his chamber. She had no desire to wake him, but she was concerned the injury to his head and the chill he had taken may cause more damage than was readily evident. Added to that, the duchess had promised Slade she would return.

  She retrieved a book from her own chambers and pulled a chair to his bedside to wait.

  CHAPTER 15

  Slade woke with a headache. For that reason, he left his eyes closed. He breathed deeply and inhaled the familiar scent of his wife.

  She had come back as she promised. How long had he been asleep? Surely not long if she was still in his room. It felt late in the day, however. Perhaps someone had drawn the curtains.

  He opened his eyes to peer through them at his wife. She was asleep in the chair. He gave a soft snort. That was likely why she was still in the room – she had fallen asleep while watching him.

  He rose up on his elbows, opening his eyes all the way.

  Jillian stirred. He sat up and watched her. There was no question about it, she was beautiful. He well knew that a pretty face did not guarantee a loving woman. He sighed and lay back. She had seemed so kind, so tender. And she appeared to be responsive to him as well. He had thought she was as eager to be with him as he was to be with her. He sat up again – just to see her. How else had he been deceived by the lovely woman before him?

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  Jillian awoke to the sensation that someone was watching her. She opened her eyes to discover it was her husband.

  “Slade,” her voice sounded fuzzy even to her own ears, “how long have you been awake?”

  “I’m not sure. What time of day is it?”

  She rose to her feet and looked out the window, “I believe the sun will rise soon.”

  She looked back at him to discover a flicker of surprise passing over his features.

  “Do you need anything?”

  He began to throw off his covers, but then remembered the state of undress in which he had gone to bed the previous evening.

  “I have personal needs.”

  She understood immediately and reached for his robe, “Shall I get Oswin to assist you?”

  He growled, “Oswin is likely asleep, and I have not had need assistance for that matter since I was a small child.”

  She did not feel it prudent to remind him he was injured and may need help walking.

  She turned her face away so he could rise and tie his own robe.

  When Jillian looked back, he was staring at her with an eyebrow raised, “Do you feel the need to remain with me?”

  She felt her ears warm at the implication, but she was not about to be cowed by his boorish behavior.

  She clasped her hands in front of herself, “I will see that you can walk by yourself, and then I will leave you.”

  He heaved a great sigh and took a step. He winced, but she could see he was not so very unsteady on his feet.

  “I shall await you in the sitting room. If you feel you cannot walk that far to come find me, you can simply call to me, and I will come back.”

  She turned on her heel and left him.

  She was not surprised that he joined her a short time later. It would have been admitting to a weakness to call out to her.

  “What time did I lie down yesterday?”

  She watched him make his way carefully to the chair, “It was shortly before the noon hour.”

  He sat gingerly, pulling his wrapper closer to himself, “And how long have you been in here?”

  She rose to retrieve a lap robe from another chair and covered him with it, “I have been here most of the time.”

  “Did you go to dinner or did they bring it?” he brushed her hand away in irritation.

  “Slade,” she took a chair nearer him, “are you hungry?”

  He frowned at her, “No. I’m not hungry – though I should be. It seems I have not eaten since yesterday morning.”

  She wondered if it would be wise to suggest he go back to bed for a while.

  “What did you and the doctor discuss after I went to sleep last night? Was it the likelihood of me dying?”

  Her heart clenched at the very thought, but she knew he would neither appreciate nor believe her if she told him how that hurt her.

  “Certainly not. Mr. Mitchell believes you are not any more likely to die soon than he or I. He felt it wise to allow you to sleep as much as possible, but other than that conversation, I never spoke to him outside of your presence.”

  “So, I am well enough to resume my duties?”

  He was baiting her, “If you feel you are up to it, I imagine I cannot prevent you. However, I believe your leg is still giving you significant pain.”

  He rubbed that offending limb before seeming to realize what he had been doing and his hand darted back to his lap.

  “So, you will remain with me if I choose to obey and stay in bed today?”

  “I will,” she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she would actually welcome the time with him. Perhaps they would have an opportunity to discuss the discordance between them.

  He threw off the lap blanket and rose, “I have not the time for that,” and he stalked into his room, slamming the door behind himself.

  Jillian sighed and went into her own chambers. She decided not to take to her own bed. The sun was already beginning to peek over the horizon, and, though she had not slept well in Slade’s armchair, she knew it would be pointless to try now.

  Erin was waiting in the dressing room, “Would you care to bathe before you dress for the day, milady?”

  “Have you the water all ready?” Jillian was always pleased by her maid’s efficiency.

  “It is nearly filled,” Erin began unlacing the back of her mistress’s dress.

  Jillian was in and out of the tub quickly, knowing she needed to be fast to keep abreast her husband’s actions this day.

  “Do you wish me to do your hair, milady?”Erin asked as she helped to fasten the fresh clothing.

  “Something simple, Erin,” she sat at the dressing table. “I do not wish to be away from his grace long.”

  Erin set about her work with dexterous hands, “I believe his grace has left his chambers, milady.”

  Jillian bit back a groan, “Thank you, Erin.”

  The lady’s maid was finished in record time and Jillian left shortly after with a sincere thanks.

  Having not eaten since the previous morning, Jillian was beginning to feel lightheaded, but she felt it most urgent to find her husband.

  He was alone in his study.

  “Can I do something for you, Jillian?” he looked up when she entered.

  “I was going to ask you the sa
me thing, Slade. Have you eaten?”

  He shook his head.

  She came further into the room to better see him. His complexion was not good, and she wondered if he was in pain.

  “May I have them bring you a tray in here?” she did not want him walking to the breakfast room, but she thought it better to keep that opinion to herself, “You appear to be quite wrapped up in your work already.”

  He looked irritated at the beginning of her little speech, but softened by the end.

  “Thank you,” his tone was more gentle than it had been as of late. “Perhaps later.”

  Jillian knew she should not press, but she wondered when he would eat if not now, “I will ask someone to prepare something for you in about an hour?”

  His eyes narrowed, “You are deciding my meal times, are you?”

  “Would you prefer it in two hours?”

  He began to rise, but must have changed his mind, “I would prefer to determine for myself when I am hungry and when I am not.”

  “Slade,” she sat down across the table from him, “I am trying to help. It has been some time since you have taken anything, and, given your weakened condition. . .”

  “I am not an invalid!” he snapped.

  Jillian gave up trying. She rose to her feet and walked as calmly from the room as anybody could in the situation.

  “Mrs. Bailey,” she found the woman supervising the polishing of the silver, “his grace will be calling for something to eat. Please ask cook to have something prepared so it can arrive quickly.”

  The housekeeper looked confused.

  A sigh slipped out, “I’m afraid he hasn’t decided when he wants it yet, but I do not wish to have him wait when he makes that decision.”

  Mrs. Bailey smiled. Indeed she looked almost amused.

  As the music room was the closest chamber to the study, Jillian situated herself so she could see the door.

  She felt almost ill from her lack of sleep and food, but she was intent upon monitoring her husband’s activities.

  Mrs. Bailey found her a short while into her vigil.

  “Might I bring you something to eat, milady?”

  Jillian didn’t usually like to trouble the staff with extra meals, but she was feeling quite woozy.

  “Please. If you have some muffins and preserves, that will be sufficient.”

  Mrs. Bailey left to do her bidding.

  The door to the study opened just as Baily was returning with food.

  Jillian thanked the housekeeper before hastening to the corridor to stop her husband, “Slade, would you like to join me?”

  He scowled – an action that seemed to fast becoming a habit.

  She took a silent breath in and let it out, then turned and went back to the music room.

  She spread some preserves on a muffin, knowing full well she was not going to be able to swallow it. Despite regular rejection in one form or another over the past few months, she found she was not immune to it.

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Have you not eaten today?” Slade appeared next to her.

  She shook her head, not daring to look up at him.

  Slade sat down and looked at her, “And not last night either?”

  She shook her head again and began pouring the coffee.

  They sat and ate in silence.

  Jillian did not know what to make of him. He seemed to be watching her, but she refused to chance a look.

  “I don’t understand why you did it,” he still sounded angry, but at least he was talking.

  Her question came in the form of a frown.

  “You could have let Oswin care for me.”

  “Slade, you were injured. You were near freezing. How could I have left that to someone else?” she had to look up at him.

  He was staring down at her.

  “You’ve been crying.”

  She didn’t deny it but looked back at her hands folded in her lap.

  “You are upset that I have spent little time with you, but you find my touch – my presence revolting.”

  Jillian’s eyes shot back up to him, “What?!”

  His brow was furrowed in anger, “Do not deny it.”

  “Whenever have I said or implied that I do not desire your company. . .that I do not desire you?”

  She watched her husband’s face flush, but he did not look angry; he looked ashamed.

  “You told her – my sister – that day in your chambers,” his eyes were down cast, his jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists.

  Jillian wracked her memory but came up blank, “What day?”

  “The day you told her how you felt about me . . .about us . . .”

  Jillian realized she may have just heard a clue about why her husband’s attitude had changed so drastically, but she was still having trouble placing a conversation with Amy.

  Jillian took a chance and reached across the space between them, laying a hand on his, “Please, Slade. I do not understand.”

  He sighed, “My sister. In your room. I heard you talking. I was in the next room.”

  His words sparked a memory, “You mean the day Amy was getting a massage after her ride? When we,” she suddenly remembered talking about Salvaje, “you heard me,” she paused, wondering how to explain not telling him sooner about her accident. “You know.”

  He stood up, “I do not know why we are speaking of this. It will change nothing.”

  She looked up at him, “I am sorry I did not tell you, Slade. I was afraid you would be upset. I did not want you to know.”

  “I can well imagine,” he was pacing, his limp causing a strange gait.

  “I was embarrassed,” she admitted.

  He was not placated. In fact, he looked angrier still, “And yet you told my sister. You could not tell me, but you could tell my sister.”

  “She did not warn me,” Jillian knew the words were a mistake the instant they left her mouth.

  “Warn you?”

  His words were a mere whisper, and Jillian could see a vein throbbing in his temple.

  Jillian could understand her husband was upset she had ridden the very horse he had cautioned her not to ride. She could even understand his anger about discovering she had met with an accident on that very same horse. But this fury seemed beyond reason.

  He leaned down toward her and spoke into her face, “How was she supposed to warn you? Was she supposed to tell you your husband would be a large sweating beast you would have to shove off yourself?”

  He turned and stormed out of the room, his limp barely noticeable.

  Jillian’s brown creased in great confusion.

  Then realization hit.

  Not caring if she was behaving like the lady of the house, Jillian picked up her skirts and ran after her husband.

  She saw him heading toward the marsh.

  “Slade!” she called after him.

  He didn’t slow his stride.

  The need to breathe forced her to stop her race. She watched him approach the decrepit steps. He managed the first one just fine, but his leg gave out on the second and he was instantly on the ground.

  Jillian picked up her pace again and hurried the rest of the distance.

  “Go away,” he growled at her while trying to recover himself.

  “I will not,” she didn’t care that she was panting.

  He attempted again to stand but managed only to land his backside on the top step.

  She sat next to him, “I rode Salvaje.”

  “What?” he snapped. “I told you not to do that.”

  “I know, and I am sorry.”

  He looked across the yard at a gardener. Jillian knew her husband would sooner seek help from that man than from her.

  “He took off across the field,” she hurried to explain, “and then he threw me and landed on me.”

  A flicker of concern lit Slade’s eyes momentarily, “Were you hurt?”

  Jillian took hope from that flicker.

  “Mo
re embarrassed than anything. I only told your sister about it because she was in so much pain from her ride.”

  Slade stared across the field - silent.

  Jillian picked up his hand and was pleased when he did not resist, “He was very heavy, Slade. Heavy and sweating.”

  Slade looked at her, his intense gaze searching her face. She could see the cogs of his mind turning to process this new information.

  “Jillian,” the choked sound coming from her husband’s lips nearly made her cry.

  She sat and waited for him to speak.

  It took him several attempts, but he finally managed to speak, “Can you ever forgive me?”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, “For months, you have been thinking that I find your touch repulsive. I am the one who needs to apologize.”

  “You were not the one who made the mistake, Jillian,” he pressed his face into her hair.

  “But I did not tell you,” she looked up. “I should have told you before how much I love it when you hold me,” she licked her lips. “I should have told you that I like holding your hand.”

  He squeezed her fingers.

  “Or your arms around me,” she shifted so he could stretch his arm around her.

  She smiled, “Or your kiss.”

  He obliged her.

  Upon hearing that the master had stormed from the house, Oswin raced out the door with an overcoat. He rounded the bend, but stopped short upon seeing the duke and duchess sitting on the broken stile.

  He backed up slowly and returned quietly to the house.

  “I believe the mistress has found him,” he told a worried Bailey with a glimmer in his eye. “She’ll see that he comes in soon.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “It appears you and Slade have resolved your differences,” Amy’s hands rested on the small swell of her belly.

  Jillian nodded, “It was a terrible misunderstanding, but I believe we have learned an important lesson about speaking plainly with each other.”

  Amy glanced toward the men who were standing on a distant rise, “Can you not tell me what it was about?”

  Jillian almost laughed at the idea. Amy would be mortified to hear such details.

  She quelled her humor and simply shook her head.

  “I never expected him to fall in love, Jill,” Amy turned to a new subject. “I believe he must have been taken with you when he picked you up alongside the road.