Chapter Thirty-Six
Nell stirred and carefully opened her eyes. Her skull thumped as though devils played football inside it and the light streaming through the windows made her wince.
Immediately she remembered everything. When she gingerly turned her head, she wasn’t surprised to see James slouched asleep in a chair beside her bed. He looked utterly exhausted. Dark hollows surrounded his eyes, deep lines ran between his nose and his mouth, and his usual morning stubble threatened to become a fully grown beard. His bruises faded to a mixture of blue and yellow and gave him an uncharacteristically disreputable air.
He looked like he’d been to the gates of hell and back. She’d promised him that she wouldn’t die, but she could see that he hadn’t believed her. A faint sound of distress escaped her.
He jerked and sat up, rubbing his eyes, then leaned forward to seize her hand where it lay above the covers. “Eleanor, darling, are you awake at last?”
“I think so,” she said croakily. She felt like sandpaper lined her throat.
Relief flooded his face. He kissed her hand, then turned to pour a glass of water from a jug on the nightstand. With a gentleness that made her heart cramp, he slid his arm behind her. “Drink. Steadily now.”
Her instinct was to gulp the lot, but she took his advice and swallowed a few sips. The coolness was heavenly and she closed her eyes in bliss. A little more and she raised her hand.
He took the glass away. “Enough?”
She nodded, then wished she hadn’t. Movement sent those crashing, overactive imps in her head on another rampage.
“Does your head hurt?” He set the glass on the crowded nightstand.
“No.” Gradually she became aware of the details of the room. She remained at the Royal Swan. Faint traffic noise from outside penetrated the closed window. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth. Sickroom paraphernalia littered every surface.
His expression was skeptical. “I’m sure it does.”
“Maybe a little.” She paused. “Having you here helps.”
“There’s laudanum if the pain’s too bad.”
“No.” She’d slept enough. Having come so close to permanent darkness, she wouldn’t waste time in oblivion that she could spend with James.
“Don’t try to talk,” he said softly, setting her back on the bed.
“I want… to talk.” She reached out. When he caught her hand, strength flowed through her. She managed a smile. “How long—”
“Three days. At first, Dr. Manion was hopeful, then on the second day, you took a turn for the worse.”
The flatness of his voice indicated how bad that “turn” had been. “I told you… I wouldn’t leave you.”
His laugh was gruff, but like his touch, it fortified her. “For a while there, I feared you lied.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said drily, closing her eyes against the light.
“Stay alive and I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you,” he said equally drily.
To her dismay, a couple of tears squeezed from under her eyelids. “I hate to think how I misjudged you.”
“Forgiven also.”
“And if I hadn’t run away when you proposed, I wouldn’t have caused all this trouble.”
“That’s harder to forgive.”
Her eyes flew open in shock to find him watching her with such tenderness that she felt ready to get up off this bed and waltz around the room. “You don’t mean that,” she said faintly.
“No, I don’t.” He sighed and his grip on her hand firmed. “Eleanor, despite everything, we’ve come through. Let’s put our mistakes behind us and just be grateful.”
“I am.” She tried to sit, but didn’t get far. So much for dancing. “I want—”