Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Evangelina woke slowly, feeling the press and play of Zeke’s fingers against her flesh, the designs he drew on her skin, making her a work of art in invisible lines. She turned slowly, leaning into his embrace. She could smell him, still feel the imprints of him on her body, and she decided that she never wanted to wake up any other way again. His mouth found hers, hot and voracious, and something far deeper than hunger woke deep in her belly. His lips descended from her mouth to her breast, and she gasped, but not from pleasure. Instead, from shock.

“Zeke, something is wrong!” Evangelina hissed.

He raised his eyes to her, and she met his gaze; his blue eyes were glassy and half-distant. “Everything is fine.”

“You’re blazing,” Evangelina said, reaching out to run her hands up his muscled arms.

Zeke gave her a wry smile. “With desire for you, my dear.”

Evangelina huffed, putting her palm to his forehead. His skin practically scalded her.

“You’ve got a fever!” she cried, panic zipping through her. “Let me check your wound.”

Evangelina launched herself from the bed and tugged the nightgown back on. Zeke grunted his disapproval as Evangelina wound her wild hair back in a quick knot and came to his side of the bed. She shoved him backward and into a proper position that she could access his injured arm.

“Can’t we do this after?” Zeke grumbled. “I have rather more pressing concerns at the moment.”

Evangelina began to work off his bandage. “How about if I promise you that when I’m done, whatever hurts, I’ll kiss better?”

Zeke gave her a wolfish smile. “I don’t think you want to make that promise.”

Evangelina just gave him a look, trying to cover the small thrill of confused excitement that fluttered in her belly, and she peeled off the bandage to examine him.

As it turned out, Evangelina didn’t need to make good on that promise as her husband was weak as a kitten by noon. The fever was high but not, as she was assured by the doctor the DeRoches called, life threatening.

“He is healthy, and the wound is not vital,” the doctor had told her. “He should recover.”

The doctor had then offered to let his blood, and Evangelina watched in deep discomfort us Zeke groaned his way through the horrific procedure. When the doctor was done, Evangelina was too ill at ease even to thank him. She rushed to Zeke’s side, picking up his hand and looking at the new wound. No, no, this would not happen again.

“He’s a good doctor,” Pierre reassured, seeing the fear on Evangelina’s face.

“I am sure he is,” she managed. “But we will not let my husband’s blood again. He looks worse than he did before.”

Pierre pursed his lips. “My dear, sometimes that happens, but the bad blood must be purged in order to–”

“I understand the science, Mr. DeRoche, but I know my husband, and this is not making him better,” said Evangelina with steel in her voice.

He nodded curtly. “He is your husband.”

Evangelina nodded, then turned back to face Zeke, threading her fingers with his as he twitched in his fitful slumber. She heard Mr. DeRoche retreat from the room, but Evangelina could sense a continuing presence there. She turned to look over her shoulder and found Heloise lingering at the door.

“What is it?” asked Evangelina.

Heloise swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen my father back down when he thinks he’s right.”

Evangelina rolled her lips inward. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but this is my husband’s life. I must do what I think is right.”

“Of course,” Heloise stepped forward a little. “I was only impressed. Your love for your husband is powerful indeed. I think he cannot stay sick for very long because you will not let him. I’m halfway to convinced you can heal him yourself.”

Evangelina turned sharply then as an idea struck her. “Oh, you’re right! Well, sort of. But I think I can help. I’ll need ginger for tea, cold water with peppermint for compresses, oh, and turmeric, if you have it.”

Heloise’s green eyes danced. “If it’s a plant, I should imagine we have it.”

Evangelina stayed by his bedside, reading and embroidering as Heloise gathered the items. When the young woman returned, Evangelina set about working with the supplies. After Heloise helped Evangelina strip the bed, Zeke was halfway to awake, though hardly conscious. Heloise slipped from the room after Evangelina thanked her, and Evangelina was truly grateful. Then she moved to Zeke himself. She peeled off his shirt and left him naked on the bed, dipping the compress into the water with peppermint oil and laying it on his forehead.

“All right,” she said softly, as she mixed up the turmeric paste. “You anointed me with this before we were wed, that’s true, but it was Rowan and Samira’s ceremony. Perhaps, now, we can have our own?”

Evangelina offered up a prayer to Dhanwantari as she took some of the paste onto her hand and began to spread it over his chest. As she worked, a story came to her mind.

“Do you know the story of Prahlada?” asked Evangelina absently, talking to Zeke as he had fallen asleep once more.

At least his slumber seemed less fitful then before as she rubbed the paste in gentle swipes onto his skin, as she spoke softly to him.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Evagnelina smiled. “I’ll tell you this one, then I’ll tell you every story Samira ever told me.”

She liked this idea, that Zeke would get to know her through the stories that had shaped her as a child. Evangelina knew she and her husband were linked deeply, and in some ways more intimately than anyone could imagine, but in other ways, they hardly knew each other. It was strange, and she would seek to rectify that soon.

“Well, Prahlada was the son of a demon king, but even though his father was Hiranyakashipu, Pahlada still preached and followed the good, righteous path,” Evangelina said. “This infuriated his father, and Hiranyakashipu tried everything he could to get his son to stumble and leave his faithfulness, which, given that he’s a demon king, was a considerable lot. But Prahlada was always steadfast. Finally, furious with his son and that nothing else had worked, Hiranyakashipu decided to threaten Prahlada with his very life, but even that had no effect. So the demon king was left with no choice but to kill his own son. But Lord Vishnu saw what was to happen and intervened, coming in his half-lion, half-man form to save Prahlada. Vishnu tore Hiranyakashipu apart, and all his tricks and all his powers could not save him.”

Evangelina let out a long breath. She had always liked that story, but now, it made her a little sad. It made her think of Magnus, her own brother who had kidnapped her, yet kept her safe, abandoned her, yet brought her rescue to her. Evangelina was not sure how to feel, but instead of shutting off her feelings to try and face another time, some distant moment when she might have the wisdom or the strength to better understand, she simply let the feelings sit with her. Evangelina was sad, confused, angry, hurt, fearful, joyful, resentful, and a dozen other things that flowed under her skin like living water. And by the time she’d cleaned Zeke again and he had turned from hot to cold, shivering under layers of blankets as she piled them on, Evangelina had let them go again.

The next several days passed in similar fashion. Evangelina spent the majority of it by Zeke’s side, working her way through novels, helping with the household mending, and talking with the DeRoches who alternated coming in and out of the room. She took a break each afternoon to walk in the truly spectacular gardens, and it left her feeling refreshed and more hopeful. She wished deeply that her mother and Samira could have written back to her, but for everyone’s sake, she didn’t reveal where they were staying.

Zeke had periods of wakefulness where he fussed and whined about being confined to his bed and yet being denied his favorite activity there. Then he would sleep for long stretches. The fever lessened, then worsened again. Evangelina pressed cool compresses to his head and changed his nightshirt. With the help of a servant, they changed the bedlinens when Zeke’s sweat soaked them through, which was often.

After three long days and longer nights, the new dawn brought joy as Zeke’s fever broke. At Pierre’s insistence, Zeke and Evangelina remained a further three days, allowing him to recuperate, before Zeke said he was going to go mad if he was not let outside. He and Evangelina walked in the garden together, Zeke finding it as delightful as his wife had, and he ate a full meal of solid foods for dinner, thereby proving he was healthy enough to depart. The next day, the doctor was summoned back, Evangelina procuring from him a promise he would not bleed her husband. He declared Zeke’s wound looked fine and he was good to travel, provided they stopped several times on their way back to London and did not overexert themselves, taking care to keep the wound clean and not reopen it now that it had scabbed over nicely and was beginning the healing process.

Finally, after more than a week with the DeRoches, Zeke and Evangelina bid them adieu.

“I shall write to you,” Heloise said, tears threatening in her big, green eyes.

Evangelina had grown extremely fond of Heloise in the days they’d been under the same roof, and her hope that she would one day see the young woman again was high.

“And I shall look forward to getting and replying to every single one,” said Evangelina, squeezing Heloise’s hands.

Pierre embraced Evangelina like a daughter, kissing her cheeks and wishing her luck.

“Know you always have friends here,” he promised. “If you ever make it back up to this part of the country, we would be honored to see you again.”

“You as well. If there is ever anything we can do for you,” said Zeke. “And if you are ever in London, do come see us.”

With a final nod and a handshake, the men parted. Zeke handed Evangelina up into the carriage they hired to take them on the first leg, and the journey home truly began.

“Well,” said Zeke as he settled back into the seat. “On our way home.”

Evangelina smiled, looking fondly at her husband. She knew him better now, after days spent with him in bed and little to do but talk and read. She now knew where the scar on his left arm came from – a stick fight with Rowan where Rowan had been the dashing pirate and Zeke the dastardly prince holding Ariane, their little sister playing the role of a beautiful maiden who, at Ariane’s insistence, could secretly turn into a dragon when the sun went down. She learned his favorite color and book and song, his favorite places and people, his favorite memories from his childhood. And Evangelina reciprocated in kind.

They made their way slowly back to London, taking a full four days of travel. At each inn when they stopped for the night, Evangelina made herself as scarce as possible; she did not want a repeat of what had happened further North, though meeting the DeRoches from it had been an incalculable blessing. Husband and wife took dinner in their room, talking and laughing, drinking wine and retiring early to spend hours in bed, exploring each other, both body and mind, so that as their carriage at last returned them to London, Evangelina felt married.

It had, strangely, been a honeymoon of sorts. Not the ideal she might have pictured, but visiting medieval castles or traveling to distant lands mattered far less than what had happened between them. Forged in fire, their bond was ironclad, and Evangelina knew in the depths of herself that, even if she could not fully define what love was, she felt it for this man. Her rescuer, her protector, her lover, her husband. Zeke was all of that together, and she looked upon him with every bit of joy and pride she had ever dreamed she might look at a fairy tale prince. He was her happy ending.

Evangelina felt the struggles of the last days and weeks ebbing away as they approached the Marston house where she would be reunited with her mother and sister. Never in life had she even spent a night without at least one of them under the same roof. Now, she’d spent a fortnight away, and spent them largely in Zeke’s arms or by his side. She thanked the heavens for that.

They rolled to a stop before the Marston’s London house, and the front doors were thrown open at the same time as the door to the carriage. Evangelina did not even wait to be helped down, instead leaping from the carriage and running until she collided with Samira. The sisters did not even speak, only made strange, thrilled sounds as tears mingled on their cheeks as they embraced and smeared each other with kisses.

“You are here!” Samira finally exclaimed.

“I am here!” Evangelina laughed.

Then she turned to her mother, and Patrice, who had not shed a tear in front of anyone since her daughter had been taken, sat down on the front step of the house and cried into her hands. Evangelina sank down on her knees before her mother, laying her head in Patrice’s lap.

“Mama,” Evangelina whispered.

Patrice wrapped her arms around her baby girl and gathered her against her chest. “I love you so much.”

“I love you Mama,” Evangelina said.

They remained that way for a long time, holding each other, reassuring each other that they were once more together, both safe and whole. The warmth, the security, of having her mother and sister close again was nearly too much for Evangelina to bear. There had been several times she had genuinely believed she would never see them again, but there they were, all together once more, and Evangelina could not contain her joy.

As Zeke descended from the carriage, his own mother threw her arms around him and wrapped him in her own, tearfully joyous embrace. He kissed her, and Dierdre cried out over the wince he gave when she touched his arm.

“What is it?” demanded Dierdre. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Zeke shook his head. “Just a minor mishap.”

“Mishap?” said Rowan as he approached his brother, smiling broadly. “Did you run into a tree, brother?”

Zeke grinned and took his brother’s outstretched hand. “Something like that.”

Rowan leveraged the grip to pull Zeke into a tight hug, whispering harshly into his ear. “What really happened?”

“I was shot,” Zeke hissed.

Rowan yanked back to stare into Zeke’s eyes. “What?”

Zeke smiled mysteriously. “I’ll tell you the whole tale later. I’m going to greet our siblings.”

The house overflowed with happiness and people at the return of their sister and brother, their daughter and son, everyone gathered for the occasion. Even the Marquis and Marchioness attended, all smiles and love as they greeted Zeke and Evangelina. The returning pair came to dinner that night as husband and wife, sitting in the informal style of family, shoulder-to-shoulder. Deirdre sat at the head of the table, allowing both pairs of newlyweds to canoodle together, including Rowan feeding Samira spoonfuls of custard from his dish and directly into her mouth while looking at her with a lovesick glow in his dark eyes.

“Rather obvious, aren’t they?” Evangelina whispered to Zeke.

He snorted, leaning closer. “If you can sneak a bit of that custard upstairs, I’ll eat it off you tonight.”

Evangelina’s eyes went wide, and a pretty blush swept up over her face. Zeke was deeply pleased by her reaction.

“I propose a toast!” said Deirdre, standing up with her glass in hand. “To my children.”

Everyone raised their glasses. “To my eldest son, who had the good sense to bring the Acharyas into our lives, and to marry the woman who will not only make a wonderful Viscountess, but the perfect wife for him and a remarkable matriarch of this family. And to my second son, who has come into his own as a man in every way through this time, and has brought back with him the most wonderful of women, who brings goodness and light with her wherever she goes.

“To Rowan and Samira,” Zeke raised a glass.

“And to Ezekiel and Evangleina,” Rowan raised his own.

“Hear hear!” the Marquis thumped the table.

“And finally,” Deirdre said, smiling conspiratorially at Ariane, the Marchioness. “I believe my eldest daughter has something to add.”

Deirdre sat down as Ariane stood.

“Well, we wanted to save this, but when I told Mama,” Ariane cast a lovingly chiding glance at her mother, “she insisted we not wait another moment, otherwise she would tell everyone for us.”

Conway stood up beside Ariane and laid a hand on her stomach. “We’re very proud to tell you all that we’re going to have a baby.”

A cheer went up around the table. The family abandoned their seats in favor of hugging and congratulating the Marquis and Marchioness on this happy development. Ariane cradled her stomach that, when she rounded her hand over the skirt, showed a faint protrusion.

“When can I expect my nephew?” Zeke asked as he leaned down to kiss his sister.

“Another four months, we think,” she said, beaming proudly at her husband.

Conway rested a hand on the small of her back, smiling down at her with so much adoration it seemed to glow with its own light. Evangelina embraced the Marchioness herself, and felt the warm reception of her illustrious sister-in-law.

“Congratulations,” Evangelina said with a bright smile.

Ariane squeezed Evangelina’s hands in hers. “You’ll be joining us mothers soon. I cannot wait for our children to grow up side-by-side, with Rowan and Samira’s as well.”

Evangelina nodded. “So do I.”

But something did not feel right in that statement. Evangelina had always known she wanted to be a mother, only, perhaps not right away. She had only just found Zeke, and after everything, she hoped they might get some time just to the two of them. Then someday they would have children, and their love would only grow with the conception, as Evangelina saw it so clearly between the Marquis and Marchioness. And, when she turned her head to look at Rowan and Samira, close together and radiating happiness, the Viscount and Viscountess as well.

The celebrations went on throughout dinner, and after, the men retired to Rowan’s study to sip whisky and talk.

“Listen,” Conway said, clasping a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Ariane is going to talk to Samira, and I know you’re her brother, but I wanted to be the one to ask you myself.”

Rowan looked up expectantly at his dear friend. “What is it?”

Conway smiled almost bashfully. “Will you be godfather to our child?”

Rowan’s heart threatened to burst in his chest, and he beamed. “Of course! My God man, of course! Nothing gives me more joy, nor is a higher honor, than this!”

Conway clasped Rowan’s hand, then pulled him into a tight embrace. “There is no other I would trust so much.”

Rowan breathed deeply, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. “Thank you.”

Conway squeezed Rowan’s shoulder, then turned toward the decanter. “This calls for a drink I think.”

“Indeed,” agreed Joel as he stepped forward. “Especially when I understand we have quite the tale of danger and romance to hear.”

They all turned their eyes to Zeke, who heaved a sigh and picked up a glass.

“Well, have a seat then, and pour a generous glass,” he said. “It’s a long story.”