Chapter Thirty-Eight

L ucy stared down at her husband as he lay in bed. She laid another cool, damp cloth on his head. He stirred.

His eyes fluttered open. “Lucy? Where am I?”

“Home.” This was the third time he’d woken and asked the same question.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, love. I’m fine. You saved me.” By being reckless and blocking the flaming debris with his own body.

His fingers reached out to grip hers. “No, you saved me.” Then his eyes closed, and he fell back to sleep.

Lucy sighed. What was she going to do about her heart? Her love for him was so big it scared her. To love someone this much and then lose them? Could she bear it?

“You haven’t lost me yet.” Hart’s voice startled her.

Had she said that out loud? Looking down at her husband, she found his eyes were open and filled with emotion. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m like a cat, nine lives.” He smiled wickedly.

She removed the cloth from his forehead and placed a kiss on the lump that marred his right temple. “Even so, you have used up half of them. I will need you to be more careful from now on. My heart can’t take any more close calls.”

“I promise. Now, come to bed. You look dead on your feet. Come let me hold you all night long, as requested.”

*

Morning light slanted through the room. Lucy pushed her face against her husband’s chest, trying to avoid the sunshine. His arm wrapped tightly around her, and she felt his lips brush against her hair. He was awake. She scooted up to sitting.

Pushing her hair away from her face, Lucy looked down at Hart. “How does your head feel?”

“Sore, I guess. But it doesn’t pound like it did last night.” He reached up and lazily wrapped a piece of her hair around his finger. “And you, were you hurt in any way by the blast?”

“No. You took all the hits. You saved me.” She repeated her words from the night before.

Hart sat up with only a small wince. He pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her earlobe. “No, you saved me.”

“We saved each other.” She furrowed her brow. “I didn’t think he would do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Earlier in the evening, they had me tied to a chair below deck. I saw Lord Perrin attach a long length of fuse to a small barrel, which I assumed was black powder. He told me not to worry; it was not meant for me. Do you think he planned to kill his father this whole time? Or did he set it off in desperation after you found us?”

“I don’t know. But Griffen is certainly dead. No one could have survived that blast.” He stroked his thumb over her bruised throat gently. “Strangely, no sense of satisfaction comes from knowing he is dead. I guess I thought that was what I needed, to know that the man who killed my father would get his comeuppance.” His gaze rose to meet hers. “But you were right. I don’t need to dwell on the ghosts of the past. The only thing I need is you. And our future together. Wait here.”

Hart got out of bed and crossed to where his clothes sat in a pile on the floor. Lucy admired his broad, strong shoulders and his taut backside as he bent over. After a moment of digging around, he came back with a small square box in his hand. He held it out on one palm. “I hope I did a good job with my first husbandly task. Take a look.”

Lucy scrambled up to her knees, snatched up the box, and lifted the lid. Inside, against a white silk background, was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. An enormous square sapphire framed by small diamonds on all sides winked and gleamed in the sunlight. “Oh, Hart, it’s beautiful.” She sighed in feminine appreciation. When she looked up at her husband, his eyes glowed with a soft emotion her mind scrambled to identify. Soft was not an adjective she would normally use to describe Hart.

His hand cupped her cheek. “Lucy, you are everything I never knew I needed in my life. More laughter, more tenderness, more hope for what the future can be.” He leaned down to kiss her lips soft and reverent. Lucy’s breath hitched. “I feel like the luckiest man on earth that Fitzwilliam punched you in the eye.”

A hoarse laugh escaped her chest, and the wet path of a tear rolled down her cheek. Damn the man and his unexpected declarations. More tears filled her eyes.

“Sweet, I’m sorry.” Hart looked stricken. “It’s too soon for such big emotions. I promised to give you time to get used to this marriage. I’m skipping ahead…”

She put a finger across his lips. “It’s not that. These are happy tears.”

“Women cry when they are happy?”

“Yes.” She nodded and wiped at one eye. “I love you, you moody bastard. I always have.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Still? Even with all this?” He motioned down his body.

What a fool. She brushed a feather-soft kiss against his lips. “Yes. Still. Always.”

His chest rose and fell as he sucked in a long breath. “I don’t deserve your love. The old me definitely did not. He did not realize how precious of a gift you were offering that day. But I am working to remake the man inside this ruined body. Perhaps I can become the man you need.”

Another tear slipped down her face. She couldn’t help it. His words spread through her like sunshine warming the part of her heart that hoped someday he would love her back. That he would look at her the way he was now, his expression one of quiet awe, like he couldn’t believe she was his.

He brushed at her tears with his thumb. “Lucy, I love you. You are the reason that I want to rise from the ashes of my old life. You are my future, my family.”

Lucy threw her arms around his neck. “I knew you could come back to life. You only had to stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she teased him with a watery chuckle. His arms banded around her, and she leaned back to smirk at him. “I hope you don’t remake everything. I rather liked the wicked rogue.”

“Is that a challenge, wife?” Hart tossed her onto the middle of the bed. “Lay back my lady, I will show you just how wicked I can be.”