Regina didn’t doubt it. She couldn’t remember when she’d finally closed her eyes, but she knew it had been after several hours of thought and speculation. Neither of which had brought her any answers to the predicament she currently found herself in. Fighting back a yawn, she forced herself to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the mattress. “What is it?” she asked, concern causing her shoulders to snap back and the tiny hairs on her arms to lift straight up when she saw how pale Mia’s cheeks were. “What’s happened? Is it my mother? Or the twins?”
The last time she’d been awakened at such an early hour it had been to learn of her father’s passing. It was something she had hoped to never have to repeat again, but she could tell by her maid’s expression that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
“Tell me,” she demanded. “Whatever it is, whatever the news, it’s always best to just tell the person.”
Mia hesitated. “It’s…it’s your husband,” she began.
“What’s going on?” Emerging from the coverlet like a mermaid rising from the sea (a mermaid with snarled hair, puffy eyes, and a dash of spittle sticking to the corner of her mouth) Kitty glared first at Mia and then at Regina. “Do you two have any idea what time it is? Unless someone has died–”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Regina said anxiously. “Go on, Mia.”
The lady’s maid nodded. “As I was saying, your husband–”
“Oh my,” Kitty interrupted, clapping a hand to her forehead. “And here I thought I may have dreamt the whole thing but you really are married, aren’t you?”
“Katherine.”
“I’m sorry,” Kitty frowned. “But it’s a lot to take in, you know. Not only is my oldest and dearest friend married – before me, I might add – but she’s married to a duke and has anyone stopped to consider how that might make me feel? Well, let me tell you–”
“Kitty,” Regina cut in, “I don’t mean to be rude, but do shut up.”
Although her eyes went wide as two tea saucers, Kitty obediently bit her tongue and Regina swiftly turned her attention back to the matter at hand.
“Now out with it,” she ordered Mia. “Has something…is he…” Dread curdled in her stomach and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Of all the different scenarios she’d imagined with Andrew, not one of them had ever ended with his passing. What if he was gone and their argument from last night became the last thing they ever said to one another? What if she never got the chance to tell him how she really felt? What if their story ended in the middle and they never got to their happily-ever-after? “Is – is my husband dead?”
“No,” Mia gasped. “Dear me, no, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to imply…”
“Then what the devil did you mean to imply?” Kitty may have been scolded a moment ago, but that didn’t stop her from immediately leaping to Regina’s defense. “Coming in here at the crack of dawn and frightening the Duchess of Glenmoore half to death. Never mind the fact that this skin” – she pointed a finger at her own face – “should never be exposed to light before ten in the morning. Do you see these pores? These are not happy pores.”
“It’s all right,” Regina murmured, placing a restraining hand upon Kitty’s knee. Then she looked up at her lady’s maid. “It is all right, isn’t it? My husband is all right.”
“Perhaps it would be best if you just came into the front parlor and saw for yourself,” Mia suggested, biting her lip.
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Springing from the bed with surprising vivacity given the condition of her pores, Kitty yanked two wrappers out of the wardrobe and threw one over her nightdress before handing the other to Regina. “Come on,” she said. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it side by side, just like we’ve done everything else. But after it’s all settled I’m going back to sleep and I do not want to be awakened until dinner.”
Biting back a smile, Regina followed Kitty and Mia out of her bedchamber and down the stairs. Her smile promptly fell away, however, when she stepped into the front parlor and saw her husband sprawled on a long sofa, his countenance leeched of all color and his jaw clenched in pain as the village doctor hovered over his right leg and a man she didn’t recognize handed him a silver flask.
“Here, take a swig of this,” the man said. “You’re going to need it.”
“Hold him down,” the doctor ordered. “This is going to hurt like hell.”
“Touch me,” Andrew growled, “and I’ll break your goddamned wrist.”
“What’s happened?” Regina cried as she ran into the room. Andrew’s head swung in her direction and she caught a glimpse of brown eyes filled with agony before he fell back on the armrest with a vicious curse.
“Wakefield, get her the hell out of here,” he rasped. “I don’t want her to see this.”
The man, tall and lean with piercing blue eyes and golden hair cut short, took a step towards Regina but she put up her hand and shook her head.
“No, I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what has happened.”
“His Grace fell off his horse.” This from the doctor whom Regina had met two weeks ago when he’d come to tend one of the maids after she accidentally burned her hands with lye. He’d been stoic then and he was stoic now, albeit with a bit more grimness in his expression. “He has a closed fracture to his right fibula. The bone will need to be reset if it is to heal properly.”
“I – I don’t understand what that means.” Her gaze darted to Andrew, then back to the doctor. “What does that mean? Is he going to be all right?”
“In short, it means he has broken the smaller of the two leg bones between his ankle and knee,” the doctor explain succinctly. “In a closed fracture the bone has not punctured the skin, but it will still need to be correctly realigned. If not, His Grace may walk with a permanent limp. Or never walk again.”
All of the blood drained from Regina’s face. “But you said you can reset it?”
“I can, but it shall be extremely painful and not suitable for a lady such as yourself to witness. Please step out of the room, Your Grace,” he said gently. “Your husband was correct. You should not see this.”
But Regina shook off Kitty’s hand when she reached for her. “You and Mia can wait in the drawing room. I am going to stay.”
“The hell you are,” Andrew snarled. “Wakefield, I thought I told you to remove her!”
“And what would you have me do, drag her kicking and screaming from the room?” the blond man asked dryly. “If she wants to stay then by all means let her stay.” He glanced at Regina and she thought she glimpsed a flicker of approval in his cool blue gaze but he looked away before she could tell for certain. “Take another sip of brandy,” he instructed Andrew, “then brace yourself. This is going to bloody well hurt.”
“Are you ready?” the doctor asked, placing one hand behind Andrew’s knee and the other at the heel of his foot.
“Wait!” Her heart in her throat Regina rushed forward and crouched down beside her husband while Kitty and Mia, both looking a tad green in the face, slipped from the room and closed the door. “Here, hold my hand.”
Andrew was sweating profusely and his skin was a chalky white. Still he managed to turn his head and glare at her. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I’m your wife,” she said simply. “This is the only place I should be.”
“Are you ready, Your Grace?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” said Andrew tersely. “No, wait.” Without looking at Regina he held out his hand and she took it, her long, elegantly tapered fingers fitting perfectly between his broader ones. Gritting his teeth, he nodded at the doctor. “Now I’m ready.”
“Excellent. Then I’ll have you count backwards from five.”
“Five, four, three – ahhhh!” Andrew yelped, his hand convulsing around Regina’s when the doctor snapped his leg back into place without any warning. “Bugger it to hell, that hurt you bastard! What happened to one?”
<
br /> “It’s better if you’re not expecting it,” the doctor said mildly. “I’m going to wrap the calf tightly to avoid the bone slipping back out of place. You’ll need to remain in bed for no less than three weeks with your leg elevated to promote blood flow.”
“Three weeks?” Andrew scowled. “I’ll be damned before I sit on my arse for–”
“You’ll do as the doctor says,” Regina interceded sharply. It was the first time she’d ever dared take such an authoritative tone with her husband, and they were both surprised by it. Gently extricating her hand from Andrew’s grip – any longer and she feared she’d need to have her bones reset – she stood up and briskly addressed Mr. Grieves, the butler, who had remained standing in the far corner of the parlor throughout the entire ordeal.
“My husband will be unable to climb the stairs, which means we must make one of the rooms on the first floor a suitable replacement for his bedchamber. This one, I think, as it affords the most natural light and is the second largest. If we clear that table and chairs, along with the chaise lounge, there should be enough room for a bed and a wardrobe.
Mr. Grieves bowed. “Right away, Your Grace.”
The doctor and Wakefield followed him out the door and the parlor fell into a prickling silence that was broken by the sound of water splashing into a glass as Regina poured herself a glass of lemonade from a refreshment tray left out on the side bar. Her hand trembling ever-so-slightly she raised the glass to her lips and drank until it was empty, then poured herself another while Andrew watched from across the room.
“You didn’t have to do it, you know,” he said roughly.
“Do what?” Draping an arm across her middle she leaned back against the side bar, one nail clicking on the edge of the glass.
“Stay here. With me.” He looked down, then back up, his dark eyes unreadable. “I can only imagine what it must have looked like.”
“I can only imagine what it must have felt like,” she countered. Her wrapper fluttered in her wake as she dragged a chair over to the sofa and sat down beside him. There was a bit more color in his cheeks now, she noted, but his countenance maintained an overall gray pallor. He needed rest, and plenty of it, but she was loathe to leave him. Not when it was obvious how much pain he was in.
“When I was young girl and I fell and got hurt, as small clumsy children are prone to do, do have you any idea how my governess made me feel better?” she asked, reaching out to gently rest her hand upon the flat plane of his stomach. He wore only a thin linen shirt and she could feel his hard abdominal muscles tense beneath her fingers when he shook his head no. “She kissed my injury.”
“You want to kiss my broken leg?” Andrew said incredulously.
A smile flitted across Regina’s face. “No, but your mouth appears a little bruised.”
Understanding darkened his eyes until they were the same color as the chocolate Kitty had given her.
“My mouth does feel a little bruised,” he agreed huskily. “I must have hit it when I fell.”
“Let’s fix that, shall we?” Never in a hundred years would Regina dream she could be this brazen, but the first thought that had flashed through her mind when she feared Andrew dead was that they’d only kissed twice and never as husband and wife.
One hand anchored her body to the chair and the other crept up to his sternum as she leaned forward and lightly, lightly pressed her lips to his. She felt his sharp inhalation of breath, the kick of his heartbeat against her open palm, and then the weight of his fingers as they settled on the nape of her neck.
She intended for the kiss to be short. No more than a peck, really, as Andrew had just broken his leg. But the unspoken passion that had been smoldering between them for three long months only needed the tiniest of sparks to ignite it into a roaring flame.
His tongue swept inside her mouth as the hand at her nape tightened, dragging her closer until she was all but sprawled across his chest, her breasts threatening to spill from her bodice as her nipples swelled with desire.
He murmured something she couldn’t hear above the buzzing in her ears (the bees had returned in full force) before he drew her earlobe between his teeth and suckled. She gasped as an answering surge of heat spilled through her, a gasp that turned into a moan when he used his mouth to trace a fiery path down her jaw and neck before returning to her lips.
Her thighs pressed together, instinctively trying to trap the heat within. The kiss deepened, dragging them both along with it to a place neither had ventured before. Even Andrew, for all his experience, appeared stunned when they finally broke apart.
Regina patted her flushed cheeks as she returned to her chair. Her legs wobbled when she drew one long limb over the other, and had she not been centered in the middle of her seat she had no doubt she would have toppled right out of it and onto the floor, such was her current state of equilibrium.
“Did – did that help?” she asked faintly.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Andrew shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh. I – I see.” She nibbled her bottom lip, only to release it with a startled pop when his gaze dropped to her mouth and raw, unbridled lust gleamed in his eyes. “Should we…do you think we should…er…”
“Try it again?” he suggested with a devilish grin.
“Yes,” she nodded. “We should definitely try it again.”
And that was precisely what they did.
Chapter Eight
“How did you fall?” Regina asked softly, luminous green eyes seeking and finding Andrew’s. They were still in the parlor, although she’d returned to her chair after it became clear that her husband’s leg was paining him more than he cared to admit.
Grimacing, he managed to push himself into a sitting position with his leg elevated on a pillow. A servant brought in refreshments on a silver tray and he helped himself to a cucumber sandwich before he said, “I went on an evening ride to clear my head after…well, you know.”
“After our disagreement.” Regina glanced at the colorful array of food, but having already dined on pleasure she had no room left for pastries.
“Indeed.” Adam’s apple jerking, he put the sandwich down without having taken a bite. “I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. My horse saw the deer in the bushes and I didn’t.” He cleared his throat. “Regina, I – I need to apologize. For the things I said and the things I implied in the heat of the moment. Kissing you wasn’t a mistake. It was one of the best things I’ve ever done, and I do not regret it. It’s simply that…You see, I…”
“You didn’t want to marry me,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t want to get married at all,” he clarified. “At least not now. But I’m glad…I’m glad if it had to be anyone, it was you.” This time he reached for her hand and she gladly gave it, their fingers twining together like a key and its lock tumbling into place. “I know I’ve acted like an arse over the past three months,” he continued, “but I’m not a bad man, Regina, and I don’t want to be a bad husband.”
“I never said you were.”
“But you thought it.”
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. But not anymore for surely, surely that kiss had meant something. How could it not? It had certainly meant something to her. Something so incredible she couldn’t even put it into words. Her entire body felt alive in a way it hadn’t in months. Music sang in her ears. Light hummed in her blood. She was…she was happy, Regina realized. She was sitting across from her husband and she was holding his hand and she was happy. There was no better way to describe it.
“I was thinking about you when I fell.” A tired smile lifted the side of his mouth. “That’s why I wasn’t paying attention. Because I was thinking about you, and our marriage, and how we might improve things going forward. How I want to improve things going forward.”
“Yes?” She leaned towards him, inhaling his masculine scent – sandalwood and dirt – as a tendril of hope unfurled inside of her ches
t; a small flower reaching its petals towards the sun.
“I want us to be friends,” he began, and she nodded eagerly.
“I want that as well. As silly as it seemed, I suspected there might be something between us the first moment we met. Like a flicker of light in a dark room. I’d never felt anything like it before, and then you kissed me and I knew,” she sighed.
“You knew what?”
If Regina had been paying attention to Andrew’s tone she would have detected the wariness within it, and she would have noticed how his entire body stiffened in a way that had nothing to do with his leg. But caught in the warm glow of a woman in love she heard only what she wanted to hear and nothing more.
“I knew you were my Mr. Darcy,” she said, her smile as bright as the North Star.
Andrew slowly began to withdraw his hand. “I don’t know who Mr. Darcy is.”
“Why, he’s…he’s you,” she registered with a startled laugh. “Or at least pieces of him are. He’s terribly cold and withdrawn at first, but by the end of the book he comes to understand he wouldn’t be the man he is without Elizabeth by his side. He falls in love with her, you see, and she with him, and while they struggle to come to terms with their emotions for a little while they eventually realize they’re meant to be together. That they were always meant to be together, even though it took them a tad longer to figure it out than the reader would like. I, personally, found the build-up to be quite well done but there are others–”
“Regina,” he interrupted.
“Yes?”
“I’m not falling in love with you.”
“Because – because you’ve already fallen?” she ventured. He looked at her without speaking, and her smile didn’t dim so much as vanish completely as the tiny flower within her wilted and folded in on itself. “You…you don’t love me at all, do you?”
“I told you when we first met that I don’t believe in love. I haven’t changed my mind, nor do I intend to.” He started to pat her hand but she snatched her arm away and stood up so quickly her chair was knocked backwards and hit the floor with a loud thump.
The Summer Duke (A Duke for All Seasons Book 3) Page 7
