At the same time he knew that it would be cruel of him to deny Bea this small comfort. He had already borne witness to her distress this afternoon, following her nightmares. The concern she had voiced earlier, about what else might have happened to her, disturbed him almost as much as it did her.
The thought of any man—any man—laying hands on Bea, let alone the animals who had kept her a prisoner in such filthy conditions, who had abused her both emotionally and physically, was enough to fill Griffin with a murderous rage.
His hands now closed into fists as he fought against that anger, knowing that it served no purpose right now; Bea needed his reassurance, not his rage.
The time for Griffin to let loose the full extent of his fury would come if—when—he caught up with Jacob Harker.
Because he would find him. And when he did the other man would suffer as he had made Bea suffer.
‘Of course,’ he now agreed briskly. ‘What else are godfathers for?’ he added lightly, and knowing he was deliberately using that tenuous claim in the hopes of amusing her, but also as a means of attempting to place their relationship on a platonic footing.
As a means of convincing himself that his feelings towards Bea were indeed platonic.
A husky laugh caught in Bea’s throat as she straightened. ‘I believe I shall like having you for my godfather.’
Griffin had never felt less like someone’s godfather—Bea’s godfather, in particular—than he did as he followed her inside her bedchamber and closed the door behind them.
A single candle burned on the bedside table to alleviate the darkness of the room, the bedclothes badly rumpled from where Bea had obviously gone to bed earlier, but had only tossed and turned, before rising again when she had been unable to sleep. When she had been too afraid to sleep, Griffin corrected himself grimly.
He moved to briskly straighten the bedclothes before turning them back invitingly. ‘Ready?’
Bea felt more than a little self-conscious now that they were alone together in the silent intimacy of her bedchamber, the very air about them seeming to have stilled.
Almost with expectation?
She kept her gaze averted as she climbed back into bed, laying her head back on the pillows as Griffin rearranged the covers over her and tucked them beneath her chin. Bea almost expected him to place a fatherly kiss upon her brow!
When her own feelings towards him were far from paternal.
Griffin, instead of kissing her brow, now moved to carry the chair over from the window and place it beside the bed, before folding his long length down into it as he sat down beside her.
What would they have thought of each other if they had met under normal circumstances, at a society ball, or perhaps a musical soirée?
Bea almost laughed as she asked herself that question; even if Griffin were to ever attend such frivolities, which she seriously doubted, then she did not believe he would have noticed her existence.
Just as she had absolutely no doubt that she most certainly would have noticed Griffin, whatever the circumstances of their meeting!
He had such presence, was so tall and handsome, it would be impossible for any woman not to notice, or to be attracted to the charismatic Duke of Rotherham.
And yet he had never remarried.
Because he had loved his wife so much the idea of marriage to another woman repulsed him?
That had to be the explanation, Bea accepted wistfully.
Oh, but it would have been so wonderful to meet Griffin under different circumstances. For him to have asked to dance with her at a ball. To have him accompany her into supper. To have him call or send flowers the following day.
Bea brought her thoughts up sharply as she realised that all of those things seemed perfectly natural to her. That perhaps they had happened in her previous life?
Oh, not with Griffin, more was the pity, but she was sure she had danced at balls, and been accompanied into suppers by handsome gentlemen, and that they had called or sent flowers the following day.
Slowly, too slowly for Bea’s peace of mind, her memories seemed to be returning to her.
Griffin sat quiet and unmoving as he watched Bea slowly relax, her lids fluttering and then falling softly downwards, dark lashes caressing the paleness of her cheeks, her lips slightly parted, as she fell asleep.
He breathed out a soft and relieved sigh as he relaxed back into the same uncomfortable chair in which he had dozed fitfully the previous night. Sitting at Bea’s bedside seemed to be becoming something of a habit! He continued to watch her for several minutes longer, before his own lack of sleep the night before finally caught up with him and he lay his head back against the chair and fell asleep himself.
* * *
Bea woke to the feel of the warmth of the sun caressing her cheeks, and a deeper warmth down the left side of her body, and with a not uncomfortable weight across her abdomen and her legs. Almost as if—