“It’s his job,” Peter replied, sitting on the bed and tugging his boots off with a sigh. They were a little thinner than his own boots and pinched his toes. He wiggled the bruised digits tentatively for several moments. “He can hardly expect you to put yourself in such danger, while keeping himself at a safe distance. He clearly has every intention of carrying out his orders as fully as possible, even if that means guarding us himself,” Peter yawned. There was a knock at the door: their dinner had arrived. He rose to answer the door.
Silence descended for several minutes as they sat at the small rickety table before the fireplace, and ate the delicious food the maid had brought up.
Once her empty stomach was full, Jemima sat back in her chair and watched Peter finish his own meal.
“Have you seen anyone who is familiar?” he asked her, washing down the last of his bread with some wonderfully aromatic brandy.
Jemima shook her head. “Apart from Hugo? No.”
“Good,” Peter replied, studying her for several moments. “Which side?”
As they ate, he had sensed her discomfort at the sight of the bed only a few feet away from where they were sitting. Clearly, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of sharing it with him, but he certainly had no intention of sleeping in a chair or, even worse, on the floor again. However, he knew it would be folly to make any advances toward her until she was ready.
It was going to be a very long night.
“I need a few words with Hugo about tomorrow,” he murmured, rising to his feet. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? I’ll only be a few minutes.” He didn’t wait for her agreement, and was aware of her watching him leave the room.
Once outside, he carefully checked the corridor before locking the door to their room behind him. Although he hated to lock her in, he couldn’t risk leaving the door unlocked for anyone to wander in.
He waited for several moments, but when there was no objection from Jemima, quietly eased away from the door and headed to the tap room. He had no intention of approaching Hugo at any time during their journey.
Before they had left, he had agreed that Hugo would leave his horse tethered in the stable yard of the inn they were meant to stay in overnight. An inn that had good exit routes, and secure locks on the doors to rooms that accommodated respectable clientele. At some point, Hugo would cross paths with Peter to confirm all was well. Hugo would then leave and find his own accommodation for the night.
After several minutes of sitting in the tap room looking bored, Peter returned to the room. As predicted Jemima was already in bed, curled up facing the window, the covers tucked up to her ears.
With a casual yawn, Peter blew out most of the candles scattered around the room before taking off his clothing and climbing into bed beside her. Although the progress they had made throughout the day had been wonderful, he knew he had to be patient. To rush her, might push her away, and he couldn’t bear her to look upon him with any kind of wariness. Although she was no stranger to him, it had been several long months since they had last made love and a lot had happened since. She had allowed him to share the bed with her; he couldn’t expect any more than that.
Blowing out the last candle, he settled down under the covers and fell asleep.
Her cries woke him sometime later.
Immediately alert he jumped from the bed
and studied the room, checking the latch on the door to make sure it was still locked. The room was still bathed in darkness, and he could see little else. Quickly lighting a candle, he looked at Jemima and cursed.
She was clearly trapped in a nightmare; perhaps of her ordeal at Derby. He didn’t want to think about what she was remembering. Given the horror clearly etched on her face, and the gut-wrenching sobs that were being torn from her, she was trapped in her own personal hell.
Peter quickly lit several more candles before resuming his place in the bed. He tried to ease her into his arms, only for her to thrash out wildly and protest.
“Jemima?” he whispered softly, giving her a gentle shake. “Come on, darling, you’re dreaming. Wake up for me.”
When he got no response, he shook her harder. He didn’t bother to whisper when he called her name again, and again. Eventually his persistence won through, and with a jerk, she cried out and sat upright.
Jemima stared at the unfamiliar fireplace blankly for several moments before she realised Peter was beside her. She turned tearful eyes to him as she waited for her nightmare to fade. As her breathing calmed, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow. Her eyes remained locked on Peter’s. His presence beside her was a safe haven while the stormy sea of dark memories began to calm.
“Come here,” Peter whispered, hating the lost look in her eyes. Encouraging her to lie back down, he pulled her tightly against his chest, relieved when she snuggled against him without issue.
He thought she had fallen asleep and jumped when she tipped her head upwards until her eyes met his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, still shaken by her nightmare.
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” Peter replied, wishing he could fight the nightmares as easily as any physical adversary.
Sleep was beginning to soften the edges of his world, when he became aware of gentle fingers teasing the liberal smattering of hairs on his chest. Trying to ignore his body’s instinctive reaction, he shifted a little to ease the ache and waited, hoping she would go back to sleep.
She didn’t.
“Jemima,” he muttered, capturing her hand against the warm flesh of his stomach. “We can’t.” He didn’t need to look at her to see that she was frowning up at him. Opening his eyes, he sighed deeply and turned to her. “It isn’t that I don’t want you, please don’t misunderstand. It is just that I want you to want me, not the comfort I can give you because you have nightmares.” He didn’t add that he wasn’t going to allow anything to damage the progress they had made the previous day, not even his desire for her.
“I love you, and I want you more than anything in the world,” Peter whispered, capturing her hand and holding it against his chest. “But only when the time is right,” he added, remembering her anxiety when they had first entered the room.