Unexpectedly Wed to the Officer--A Historical Romance Award Winning Author

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘And you’re going to stop pretending you’re not ill and tell me the truth from now on.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  ‘Do you need me to carry you?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ She lifted her chin, unwilling to make a scene. ‘I believe that, traditionally, the bride makes her own way.’

  ‘I’m not feeling very traditional. Let’s just make this quick.’

  Hardly the most romantic sentiment for the occasion, Henrietta thought, but at that moment exactly what she wanted to hear. Then, after they were married, he could carry her wherever he wanted.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Here you are, wife.’ Sebastian held out a cup of steaming hot tea. ‘Drink up.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Henrietta lifted a hand and then sneezed.

  ‘Maybe I’ll just hold on to it for now.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed with a smile. ‘Just tell me when you’re ready for a sip.’

  ‘Thank you. Atishoo! Oh, dear... I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Because this is our wedding night and I... I... Atishoo!’

  He gave her a pointed look. ‘Are you feigning sickness?’

  ‘What?’ She opened her eyes wide. ‘No!’

  ‘Exactly. So don’t apologise. If anyone should say sorry it’s me, for dragging you halfway across the country in the cold.’

  ‘You weren’t to know I’d get sick and it was for a good reason.’

  ‘Yes, but the truth is I’ve always been impulsive. Once I decide on something, I like to do it as soon as possible.’

  ‘Oh.’ She felt a vague sense of alarm. She wasn’t sure she liked to be thought of as an impulse, though hopefully that was only an expression...although her head felt much too hazy to think about it now. ‘Can I have some of that tea?’

  ‘With pleasure.’ He passed the cup over carefully. ‘You’re still a bit pale. How does your head feel?’

  ‘Like the time I drank the last of the port in the pantry.’

  ‘What?’ He looked at her in disbelief. ‘You said you poured it away! I thought it must have been because of your brother.’

  ‘No-o.’ She screwed up her lips with embarrassment. ‘Nancy and I drank it after she had a bad argument with her mother. It happens quite often, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You amaze me.’

  ‘No, it’s not like that. I think a lot of Nancy’s anger is because of her mother. She doesn’t usually drink because of her stepfather, but...well, that night she said she needed to drown her sorrows and I wanted to support her. What? Why are you smiling?’

  ‘It’s just unexpected, that’s all.’

  ‘Never again.’ She shuddered and drank her tea in a few swallows. ‘This is much nicer. I didn’t realise I was so thirsty.’

  ‘Anything else I can get you?’ He put the cup aside.

  ‘I’m a little chilly.’

  ‘Then come here.’ He shuffled up the bed, swinging his legs up and reaching an arm around her shoulders before drawing her head back against his chest.

  She closed her eyes instinctively. It felt lovely, blissful even, to be lying so close, encircled in his arms. As if she were exactly where she wanted to be.

  ‘This is nice.’ He pressed a kiss on to the top of her head.

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Now get some more rest,’ he murmured into her ear, his breath warming her neck and making her skin tingle. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up.’

  * * *

  ‘A bull escaped, trampling several gardens including that of Lord and Lady Pewter. This reporter has it on good authority that a row of prize-winning hydrangeas...’

  Henrietta rolled on to her side, surprised to find herself dreaming of escaped bulls and crushed flowerbeds. Only it wasn’t a dream, she realised gradually, more of a voice.

  She opened her eyes to find her husband—bizarre as it still seemed to call him that—sitting beside her with one leg draped casually over the other, reading aloud from a local newspaper.

  ‘Sebastian?’

  ‘Ah.’ He lowered the paper and smiled. ‘And how’s the patient today?’

  ‘Much better.’ She smiled back, pushing herself up on to her elbows as she realised it was true. She felt considerably better than she had when she’d last closed her eyes.

  ‘Here.’ He tossed the paper aside and leaned forward, rearranging the pillows before helping her sit up against them. ‘Let me help.’

  ‘I can manage.’

  ‘You need to build your strength back up. You’ve barely eaten for two days.’

  ‘Two days?’

  ‘Since you got into this bed, yes.’

  ‘You mean I’ve been lying here for two days?’

  ‘Yes.’ He chuckled tenderly. ‘You did seem a bit confused.’

  She opened her eyes wider, looking at him properly. He had two days’ worth of stubble on his chin, enough to qualify as a beard, and his eyes were circled with shadows, making them look even darker than usual. Now that she thought of it, she had a vague memory of drifting in and out of consciousness. There had been someone else in the room occasionally, but Sebastian had always been there, speaking to her in reassuring tones as she’d tossed and turned. When she’d been shivering, his arms had been around her. When she’d been burning up, he’d pulled the covers away and dabbed at her forehead with a damp cloth. When she’d been neither, well...he’d been there then, too.

  ‘Have you been here the whole time?’ she asked even though she already knew the answer.

  He winked. ‘I’m thinking of a new career as a nurse. The doctor thinks I show a lot of promise.’

  ‘I agree. What else did the doctor say?’

  ‘That it was a fever exacerbated by nervous exhaustion.’ He leaned over, brushing the backs of his fingers across her cheek and beneath her jaw until his hand cradled the side of her face. ‘So no more worrying. Doctor’s orders. Your husband’s, too.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ She smiled and lifted her hand to cover his, trapping it against her skin. ‘I didn’t dream it all, then? We really are married?’

  ‘We really are. Notice the ring. It was my mother’s.’

  ‘Oh!’ She gasped in surprise, holding her other hand out to study it. ‘Why didn’t you tell me at the blacksmith’s?’

  ‘I thought you’d appreciate the gesture more when you weren’t about to collapse.’

  ‘I can’t believe that she gave you her wedding ring...’

  ‘Actually she gave you her wedding ring. She said she knew you’d take care of it.’

  ‘It’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘You said yes. That’s enough.’

  He smiled into her eyes, his own darkening almost to black before he cleared his throat huskily.

  ‘I apologise for the reading material. There wasn’t much else, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Her own throat felt somewhat dry, too. ‘The bull was captured, I presume?’

  ‘Yes, though at the cost of several prize-winning hydrangeas.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ She started to laugh and then let out a shocked shriek.

  ‘What?’ Sebastian looked panicked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  She pointed across the room to a mirror sitting on top of a dresser. ‘I just saw my reflection!’

  ‘Your...?’ He practically sagged with relief. ‘And?’

  ‘I look terrible!’

  ‘Actually, you’re looking much better.’

  ‘What?’ Shock turned to horror. ‘How bad did I look before?’

  ‘Not bad, just...sick.’

  ‘Swollen?’

  ‘A little. That reminds me. May I?’ He slid his hands around her throat, prodding gently. ‘Good. You can hardly feel any swelling today and
you’re definitely not green any longer.’

  ‘Green?’ Any pleasure she might have found in his touch evaporated instantly.

  ‘It’s perfectly normal when you’re sick.’

  ‘Yes, but...’ She stiffened. ‘Wait, if you’ve been nursing me, what about my...’ she closed her eyes, reluctant to even voice the thought aloud ‘...needs?’

  ‘Ah.’ He drew his hands away, rubbing one of them over his bristly-looking chin. ‘To be honest, you were sweating so much that you didn’t have many of those.’

  ‘None?’

  ‘Well, some...’ He made a show of picking up the newspaper and folding it neatly. ‘But nothing to concern yourself about.’

  ‘Oh!’ She flung herself over, burying her face in her pillow.

  ‘Henrietta.’ He laid a hand on her back. ‘I’ve seen and dealt with much worse, believe me. Eight hundred men on one ship, some of them seasick...’

  ‘I’m not a sailor!’

  ‘True.’ His hand moved in a slow circle over her back, rubbing gently. ‘But you know, one of the advantages of not marrying a gentleman is that we’re not so squeamish. I wouldn’t have left you even if the doctor had brought a nurse. I wanted to take care of you. Besides, maybe this is a good thing?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You were afraid of me seeing you as just a pretty face, weren’t you?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I wanted you to see me sweating, swollen and...green!’ She groaned and pressed her face deeper into the pillow. ‘Never mind anything to do with a chamber pot!’

  ‘It doesn’t make me look at you any differently.’

  ‘How can it not?’

  ‘Because I don’t care about things like that. You were sick and you needed my help so I gave it.’ She felt the bed shift as he lay down beside her. ‘You’re still as beautiful now as the first day I saw you.’

  ‘Liar!’

  ‘I was referring to inner beauty. That never dims, not according to the poets anyway.’

  ‘Oh...’ She twisted her head to one side. ‘Maybe I’m more vain than I realised.’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone.’

  She sniffed. ‘In that case, do you think maybe myself and my inner beauty could have a bath?’

  ‘I think that could be arranged.’ He pressed his lips lightly against hers before leaping up and heading for the door. ‘Then you need to eat. It’s about time we had our wedding breakfast.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Just a few more mouthfuls.’

  ‘No more!’ Henrietta protested as Sebastian pushed his own, barely touched bowl of soup across the table towards her. ‘I’ve had plenty.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He gave her an appraising look and then relented. She was looking almost like her old self again, he thought, her still-damp hair trailing over the front of her nightgown in silken coils as she sat by the fire in their chamber. Altogether too much like her old self, tempting him to forget that she was still weak and recovering. Both his thoughts and eyes already kept straying dangerously close to the bed, which had been stripped and then remade with fresh sheets, but it was much too soon to even consider anything like that.

  He couldn’t forget how frightened he’d been just two days before, acutely aware of her breathing, of every soft inhalation and whisper of sound that passed her lips. He’d been terrified that the fever might attach to her lungs. His whole world had seemed to contract to that one bedchamber and the woman inside it.

  ‘Sebastian?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘You look tense.’

  ‘Do I?’ He shook his head quickly. ‘It’s been a worrying couple of days, that’s all. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

  ‘So am I. We can probably make a start back to Yorkshire tomorrow.’

  ‘No.’ He intended to stand firm on this point. ‘Not for another day at least. I don’t want you falling sick again.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t.’

  ‘I’m still not risking it.’

  ‘Well, I’m not staying in bed all day tomorrow. How will I pass the time?’ She gave him a pointed look that turned suddenly speculative. ‘You know, you look different with a beard.’

  ‘I ought to shave.’

  ‘Do you have to? I quite like it.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her expression turned faintly mischievous. ‘You look like a pirate.’

  ‘You know, that really isn’t a compliment for a naval officer.’ He rubbed a hand over his jaw with a grimace. ‘Have you met many pirates?’

  ‘None that I’m aware of, but it’s how I imagine a pirate might look. And I do mean it as a compliment.’

  She tipped her head to one side and then sat forward, her eyes glittering with an expression he’d never seen in them before. It wasn’t one he recognised either, or at least not exactly. It seemed to be playful and inquisitive and sultry all at the same time, each one of which made him feel at least ten degrees hotter.

  ‘Can I touch it?’

  ‘My beard?’ He blinked, both at the request and the jolt of excitement that shot through him. ‘If you want.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She stood up and moved slowly around the table to perch on the edge of his chair. ‘Although it’s hard to know where to begin...’ She leaned close enough for one of her breasts to brush against his shoulder, making his breath catch and then quicken. ‘There’s just so much of it.’

  ‘If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s growing hair.’ He tried to swallow, but his face muscles felt unusually taut.

  ‘Maybe here.’ She skimmed her fingers across his cheekbone and down to his jaw. ‘It’s softer than I expected.’

  ‘Is it?’ Because the touch of her fingers was making another part of him quite the opposite. ‘Not scratchy?’

  ‘No.’ Her eyelashes fluttered as she bent her head and laid her own cheek against his, rubbing back and forth gently. ‘Not at all.’

  Sebastian shifted in his chair, ordering himself to get up and go outside to cool down, but his legs seemed unable to move. Apparently only one part of him was still capable of movement and that wasn’t obeying his commands either. Meanwhile, Henrietta’s fingertips were trailing a path across his chest, making his body temperature soar even higher.

  ‘You know...’ she murmured, her cheek still pressed against his, ‘you never kissed me after our wedding. Isn’t the groom supposed to kiss the bride?’

  Sebastian thought about flags. Naval flags. National flags. Any kind of flags... Maybe if he concentrated hard on remembering those then he could ignore the warm caress of her breath against his ear. It made his skin tingle, not just there, but all over, like ripples on a pond spreading outwards. He gritted his teeth to repress a shiver of pleasure, glad that she couldn’t see his face. Or vice versa. If she looked at him just one more time with those big blue eyes, then he had a feeling he might lose his resolve completely. He felt as if he might go mad if he didn’t touch her soon, but she was sick, she was recovering, she was...kissing his ear?

  He couldn’t have identified a single damned flag if his life depended on it.

  ‘The bride was sick.’ Somehow he pushed the words out.

  ‘But she’s not any more.’ Her tongue touched his earlobe. ‘Or are you afraid of catching my fever?’

  ‘No.’ He turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of her pulse at the base of her throat, just above the buttons of her nightgown. It appeared to be pounding almost as fast as his. ‘If I were going to catch it, I think I would have done so by now.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  Her lips curved against his skin as if she were smiling and he swallowed a groan. One of his hands was clenching the arm of his chair so hard he was afraid of snapping the wood, the other was lying in his lap, itching to curl itself around her waist and pull her fully into h
is lap. He could do it so easily, too. It would only take a second.

  ‘You still need to rest.’ It was actually becoming painful to talk.

  ‘I’m not tired.’

  ‘Henrietta...’ He tipped his head to one side, dragging his ear away with what surely had to be the last ounce of his self-control. Men had received medals for less. ‘We can’t do this.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sat back on his chair-arm, digging her teeth into her bottom lip.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want to.’ His heart wrenched at the look of hurt on her face. ‘I just don’t want you to overexert yourself.’

  ‘I only asked for a kiss.’

  ‘It might become more than a kiss.’

  ‘I know.’ She released her lip again. ‘But...would that be so bad?’

  Every muscle in his body seemed to go into some kind of collective spasm. ‘Do you know what that means?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her cheeks darkened as she nodded. ‘My sister-in-law told me.’

  ‘Ah.’ His chest heaved as his mind raced. If she knew what she’d be letting herself in for, then it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? But then knowing in theory was very different from knowing in practice...

  ‘You didn’t answer my question.’ She was holding her bottom lip between her teeth again. ‘Would it be so bad?’

  ‘Not bad.’ He swallowed. ‘In fact, I think it would be very good, but it’s just not a good idea at the moment. I think I should go down to the taproom and you should go back to bed.’

  ‘I’m not an invalid!’ She jumped up, taking a few steps away before whirling around again, arms folded around her waist. ‘You said that the past few days hadn’t affected how you saw me.’

  ‘They haven’t.’

  ‘The other day you couldn’t wait to kiss me and now you can’t wait to get away!’

  ‘Not because I don’t find you attractive!’ The idea was so absurd that it gave him the impetus to stand up. ‘I don’t want to leave, Henrietta, but I have to! If I start to kiss you, then I won’t want to stop.’