Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(88)
James’ exit appeared to have a greater impact than all of Emmaline’s pleading.
Drake bolted upright. “Emmaline?”
***
Drake had to tell his mind that he was safely ensconced in his bedroom and not fighting for his life on the battlefields of the Peninsula.
He looked around the room and frowned. He’d acquiesced to Emmaline’s wishes and agreed to sleep with her. Where had she gone?
As if she’d heard his unspoken question, her voice called up to him. “Here.”
He peered about and then blinked back a fog of confusion. Why in hell was she on the…A surge of bile climbed up his throat and choked him. Knowing intuitively what he’d find, he leaned over. His fingers gripped the edge of the mattress and he clung to the material object, certain it was all that kept him from tumbling off into madness. Nausea roiled in his gut, nearly overwhelming him with its intensity. What have I done?
Drake clenched his eyes tight. He wanted to wail like the beast he was. His greatest fear, a fear now realized, stared up at him.
“Christ,” he hissed.
“I’m fine, Drake,” she whispered. A faint quaver underlined her words.
His gaze did a sweep of her form and settled on the large knot at her temple. The delicate skin had already begun to turn a purpling-black. It matched the bruise that had begun to form on her cheek.
Drake came off the bed in one fluid motion and dropped to his knees. “What have I done?”
With hands that shook, he inspected the damage he’d caused. He gently probed the lump near her temple. She flinched under his touch and his hands fell to his side. He was a monster. Oh, he’d allowed himself to believe in the weeks since they’d married that he’d begun to improve. He’d assured himself that the episodes were coming less frequently, his sleep less interrupted. He’d attributed it to her, she was his beacon. She gave him strength.
Drake now realized he’d deluded himself. What was worse than his self-delusion was that he’d put Emmaline in danger. Good God, he could have killed her. He abruptly fell onto his haunches, putting distance between him and Emmaline—physical and emotional. Wearily, he dropped his head to his hands.
“Look at me,” she said. “Look at me,” she repeated when he still didn’t acknowledge her.
Forcing himself to look at her, his stomach turned at the sight of her bruised face. “Forgive me?” he pleaded.
Emmaline’s lower lip quivered. She reached out a hand and he stared down at her unsteady fingers. “There is nothing to forgive, Drake.”
A hollow, mirthless laugh rang from his chest. “There is everything to forgive. I hurt you. I should have never married you.”
She flinched. “I love you.”
Drake gritted his teeth. “Love is not enough, Emmaline.”
Emmaline gasped and it was all he could do to keep from taking her in his arms. He erected an emotionless wall of indifference.
Drake stood and helped her up. He guided her to the edge of the bed. Her full, red lips that would haunt him for the rest of his days parted, as if she intended to speak. “Not another word. We will finish this tomorrow. I am ringing for supplies to tend your—your…” He couldn’t finish.
“Drake…”
Drake spun on his heels and rang for a servant. Within moments, knuckles brushed the wood panel of the door and Drake yanked the door open. “I need strips of cloth and water.”
The servant bowed and beat a hasty retreat.
Drake took a slow, steadying breath and turned around to face his wife. His body recoiled the same way it had when he’d taken a bullet to the shoulder.
If Mallen could see her, Drake would be a dead man. A black laugh erupted from his lips, the sound eerie to his own ears.
“What are you thinking?” Emmaline whispered.
Drake ignored her. Mayhap that was what he should do. Call for the Duke of Mallen, let the man see his sister, then…his turbulent thoughts were interrupted by a perfunctory knock. In three strides, Drake crossed the room and pulled open the door.
Accepting the items from James without so much as a word of thanks, he shut the door with a quiet click.
Drake closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them, he trained his gaze on the wood panel of the door. The time of cowardice was at an end. In order to see to her injuries, he had to face her.
Taking a deep breath, he turned around.
With a soft tread, he crossed to the bed and eased the basin of water onto the nightstand. Then, gently, so as to hardly compress the mattress, he sat beside her.
With fingers that shook, he brought the compress to her cheek. He saw her effortful attempts not to flinch and his guilt swelled. “I am so sorry.”
Emmaline caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I am fine.”
A mirthless laugh escaped him. “Yes, that lump and black bruise on your cheek are just fine.” He dipped a cloth into the basin. His jerky movements sent water over the sides of the white porcelain, and sprayed the floor.
“You don’t need to be so cavalier.”
He flung the cloth against the opposite wall and Emmaline flinched. The sopping fabric left a watery trail along the pale blue plaster. “Cavalier? You call me cavalier?” Beset by the hopelessness of it all, he leapt to his feet and began to pace. “This has all been a terrible mistake,” he said.
Christi Caldwell's Books
- The Hellion (Wicked Wallflowers #1)
- Beguiled by a Baron (The Heart of a Duke Book 14)
- To Wed His Christmas Lady (The Heart of a Duke #7)
- The Heart of a Scoundrel (The Heart of a Duke #6)
- Seduced By a Lady's Heart (Lords of Honor #1)
- Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)
- Captivated By a Lady's Charm (Lords of Honor #2)
- To Woo a Widow (The Heart of a Duke #10)
- To Trust a Rogue (The Heart of a Duke #8)
- The Rogue's Wager (Sinful Brides #1)