Page 52 of An Unusual Wager

She didn’t know. There must be other things, but she’d seen so little of them she couldn’t think of them. Then she remembered her drive with him. Four: he loved his horses. He treated them as though they had feelings. A rare accomplishment. Anyone who treated his horses well couldn’t be that bad.

But that made only four good points. Not many.

But now, in fairness, she had to consider what was bad about him. Yes, he’d offended her, but had he been, perhaps, just the tiniest bit justified in doubting her like that? After all, Papa had, without compunction and to save himself from ruin, given her away to pay a gambling debt. And, as she’d been willing to do that once, no wonder Jonathan had thought she might have done it before. Hot color rose up her cheeks. Was it not more Papa’s fault than his? Was not Papa at the root of all her troubles? Had her ire towards Jonathan been a little misdirected?

His left hand was resting on his stomach. She slid out her own hand and covered it. He felt warm but not too hot. Perhaps the fever was passing. He had strong hands with long, elegant fingers. A few manly dark hairs covered the backs of them. She liked the feel of his skin under her touch. What might it feel like if he were to touch her with those fingers? In love. They were married, after all. This should not be a shameful speculation, but it brought fresh heat to her cheeks. How glad she was he was asleep and couldn’t see her embarrassment.

The prospective failure of her scheme to teach him a lesson didn’t seem to matter.

His eyelids flickered momentarily. Was he dreaming?

She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the strong bones beneath the skin. She’d never held a man’s hand before. Not like this. Not with the surprising feelings that were cascading through her head.

But was she feeling like this just because he was lying here wounded and vulnerable before her? Made more attractive by his lack of threat. Right now, there was about him more of the boy she’d seen in that portrait than the dissipate man who’d reeked of last night’s drinking excesses. He looked younger, gentler, and kinder with his angry expression washed from his face. And, of course, he no longer looked as though he could see through her clothing to her nakedness. A bit of a relief, all told, even though he was asleep.

She recovered her hand and leaned back in her chair. Perhaps she would try and snatch a few hours sleep. The thought she could go back to her own bed never crossed her mind. She wanted to be there when he woke up in case he needed anything. Both Mrs. Burke, the housekeeper and kind Mr. Lucas had offered to take a turn sitting with their master, but Verity had insisted she should be the one to do so. She was his wife, after all.

She picked up the pillow Mrs. Burke had brought her from where it had fallen to the floor and settled it behind her head. She would just close her eyes for a while and be there if he woke. She’d hear him when he stirred, she felt sure.

She did indeed hear him.

A shout rent the still air of the bedroom. “No! Leave her be! Get your hands off her!”

Verity came awake with a start that set her heart hammering in fear. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. The bedroom was almost dark and outside summer rain was pattering against the windows.

“No, no, no! Father, no!” Jonathan’s voice rose louder. “Get away from her! She’s mine!”

Despite his injuries, he was thrashing in the bed, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. He seemed to have no concern for his broken arm. She had to stop him before he did it damage.

Leaping to her feet, she seized him by his powerful shoulders. “Wake up! You’re having a bad dream. Wake up, Jonnie, wake up.” Her voice rose in panic.

His tossing almost threw her off but she hung on, terrified he’d do himself some damage. There was nothing for it, she’d have to slap his face to wake him.

She hit him hard. She possessed what her father liked to call “a mean right hook” and had floored one or two over arduous gentlemen with it on occasion, and some who were less than gentlemen. She modified the blow a little as she slapped the undamaged right side of his face with a firm back hander. A good thing she didn’t wear any rings.

His head snapped to one side and he went suddenly limp under her grip. After a few moments, his breathing began to settle to a less alarming panting, and he turned his head to look up at her out of eyes like inky pools. She must just be a blur in the gloom to him.

But he recognized her with no trouble. “Verity?” He sounded hoarse and unsure of himself.

“Yes. It’s me. You were having a nightmare, I think. I’m sorry I had to hit you.” She hadn’t released his shoulders which had now slumped back onto the bed. Hopefully she hadn’t damaged the bullet wound.

His left hand came up and gripped her elbow. “Thank you.”

She relaxed her hold on him. “It was nothing. Do you often have bad dreams?”

He was silent for a long moment before he nodded. “Sometimes.”

What did a man like him have to trouble his dreams? She smiled in reassurance, wanting to tell him he was safe with her, but managed to stop herself. Instead she said, “I’m here now.” She would have said that to comfort a child. To Kitty, perhaps. And now she was saying it to her husband. That he needed comfort was obvious. His left hand had slipped down her arm and now she took it in hers and held it. The most natural thing in the world to do.

He sighed. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

She sat on the side of his bed. “I don’t mind.”

He frowned, a little ruefully. “I don’t like anyone to know about my bad dreams. They’re not usually this severe. I’ve never had to have someone slap me to wake me from them. Maybe the fever or the laudanum made them worse this time.”

She smiled. “You have no need to worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know.”

A silence ensued, but a curiously companionable one. At last, he broke it. “Will you lie here with me, by my side, until I sleep again?”

Surprised, Verity wasn’t sure how to answer this. But they were married. Instinct told her that if she thought about it for too long she’d say no, and that he needed her to be close. So, before she could change her mind, she hitched herself further onto the bed and lay down beside him, facing him.

She saw him smile in the dim lamp light. “Thank you. I’ll sleep better now.” And he closed his eyes.

But she didn’t. She lay awake for a long while watching him sleep and wondering what that nightmare of his had been about.