Chapter 14

"He'll live, provided he doesn't get an infection," the doctor said as he leaned back after his inspection of Bode's wound.

"I'm not dying," Bode growled back.

Isabelle had noted that his mood had been worsening over the past few hours. "How is the pain?" she asked softly, guilt piercing through her.

He softened his features as he turned to her. "Just fine."

"All the same." The doctor reached into his bag. "Here is something to help you sleep and ease the pain. Send for me if he develops a fever."

Isabelle nodded, gently sitting on the edge of the bed and slipping her hand into Bode's as the doctor crossed the room to speak quietly with the Duke of Upton.

The duke had the craggy sort of dark looks that might intimidate any woman, but Bode had told her that this man had a heart of gold.

And judging by his effervescent wife, Isabelle suspected it must be true. The other woman glowed with happiness.

The duke nodded, his gaze drifting to Isabelle and Bode. She couldn't hear anything they said, but judging by how the duke's frown deepened, Isabelle worried it wasn't good.

Was the doctor concerned that Bode would develop an infection? She drew in a ragged breath, her thoughts swirling.

She'd been made a widow today, though the marriage had never really been a thing. She'd endured a few hours of fear and then she'd found her real future.

She had no idea exactly how much real estate she now owned, or how rich she'd become.

Was it enough that some second son would overlook how she'd attained that wealth and marry her?

Her mouth twisted. The money would benefit her sisters. She'd not deny that. And she'd done all of this for them.

But they'd find decent husbands with the dowries they were provided, regardless of whom she wed just now. While she still wanted to provide for them, she wished for her own happiness too. And that would be at Bode's side.

The man had stepped in front of a bullet meant for her. What more could a woman ask for? She looked down at his closed eyes, his skin paler than normal.

Would he have her? That was a question for another day after she knew he'd survive the wound.

Right now, she needed to focus on taking care of him. Rising, she crossed the room and stoked the fire.

The duke watched her as she returned to the bed. The doctor had washed the wound, putting fresh bandages on his arm.

She brushed Bode's hair back from his forehead, and he opened his eyes. "You look worried."

"I am worried."

"I told you, don't be. I'm not going anywhere."

In answer, she ran a finger over one of his scars, tracing it across his cheek. "What did Mama Rose do to treat these?"

"She told you about that, did she?"

Isabelle nodded.

"She used a salve from a plant. Aloe."

"I'll find some."

She leaned over, kissing the edge of the scar she'd just traced, forgetting about the other men in the room.

He used his good hand to wrap around her waist.

"Save your strength," she said with a shake of her head. "I take care of you now, not the other way around."

One side of his mouth quirked. "Listen. Just in case…"

"No." She shook her head. "I don't want to hear it. You're going to be fine, remember."

"Just in case." He lifted his head to press his forehead to hers. "You sell all those houses to the Smiths. One bulk purchase. They can deal with any disgruntled partners or problems. You take the money and move far from London. Here maybe. Or near Lockton in Scotland. I know you want to care for your sisters, but my friends will get them well matched. Upton…" He called over to his friend.

Upton broke from the doctor, crossing the room to the side of the bed. Bode repeated all his instructions, the duke silently listening as Isabelle's eyes filled with tears again.

"Her father can't be trusted," Bode finished. "I'm sure he had some plan, but Isabelle keeps the money."

"I'll see to that."

"I never saw the contracts. Perhaps my father named himself?—"

"Your father didn't have to suffer the wedding night," Bode growled. "She gets the money. You make it happen by any means necessary. Please, Rath."

The Duke of Upton, Rath, gave a single jerk of his chin. "Don't worry, Drake and I will see it done."

"Drake?" Isabelle looked back at Bode, confusion knitting her brow even as her heart beat painfully in her chest. Even hurt as he was, he was orchestrating her future to make her as comfortable as possible. She slipped her fingers into his again.

Could she will him to be all right?

"You remember Duke?"

"Yes."

"His half-brother is an actual duke. The Duke of Ducat. The richest man in all of England. Barring the King, of course. But he'll see your sisters get the husbands they deserve."

She gasped. "You don't mean that you'll have him help my sisters, do you?"

"I do mean that, so don't worry, Isabelle. We'll see everything right."

"Everything will be right. As soon as you're better." And then she lay her head on his chest. "Rest. You need your sleep."

His hand settled at her waist again.

She'd not leave his side until he was better. With that in mind, she lay down next to him, and placed her hand over his heart.

* * *

Bode felt the moment the fever took hold. Isabelle's hand felt cold compared to the rest of his body. He shivered, shrinking under the covers, and then winced in pain from the movement.

Isabelle woke, lifting her head to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he whispered back, not wanting Isabelle to worry any more than she already was.

So much had changed in the span of a week, he knew that she felt lost and alone. If he'd had time to think about it, mayhap he would have lunged at Makem instead of in front of the ball of lead but he'd acted on instinct.

His need to protect her was greater than any other driving force and he couldn't change what he'd done now.

He might have lied when he said he'd live. He could…

Then again, he could not. And he knew that she knew because he'd given all those instructions. But however this ended, he'd see her safe.

After he'd survived his father's attack, he'd look in the mirror and wonder why…why had he survived when his mother had perished?

And then later, he had to come to terms with living with the physical reminder of his father's violence every day. Still, he'd wondered about the cruelty of the world.

But as Isabelle pressed her body to his side, her arm wrapping gingerly about him, he knew why he'd been spared all those years ago.

Knew why he'd been reminded of the cruelty of men every time he looked in the mirror, every time he'd seen the reaction of a small child who looked at his face.

With the freshness of the pain, he'd been ready to save Isabelle.

His good arm was pressed between his body and Isabelle's, and he flexed his fingers, brushing her belly. "Isabelle."

"Don't try to talk," she answered, brushing the hair back from his face. "Just rest. I'll get you more medicine and some broth. It'll help to keep your strength up."

"Wait," he said, turning toward her. "I want to tell you something."

"What?"

He pried his eyes open, meeting her clear blue gaze. "I love you."

For a moment she searched his face, her lips parted, and then she leaned over, gently pressing her mouth to his. She withdrew slightly, still holding his gaze. "I love you too."

His heart gave a heavy thud. "You don't really."

"Of course I do," she said, and then brushed another kiss over his temple. "And I'll tell you something else…"

"What?"

"I am getting married again. Soon. But it won't be to some lord."

"It won't?"

"No. I'm marrying you. So don't even think about dying. You've got a wedding to attend."

Who was he to argue with that? "No dying."

"Which is why you're going to drink every bit of broth and stay in this bed until you're well."

"I am at your command."

She smiled. "You can deny my offer of marriage when you're better."

That made him smile, and for a moment, he felt a bit better. "I'd be the worst sort of fool. But you should also feel free to change your mind. We both know how much better you?—"

"Don't you even think it, Bode Armstrong. There is no one better. Not for me. Not ever."

"Isabelle."

"Don't," she whispered, stroking her fingers down his cheek. "I did my duty, and now I get to follow my heart."

His heart swelled in his chest. "Get me that broth."

She smiled as she pushed off the bed. "I'll be right back."

He wasn't going anywhere.