Chapter Seven
Arabella groaned and rolled to one side. She was so hot, and her body hurt so much. What was wrong with her? She opened her eyes and for an instant panicked at the complete darkness. As her eyes adjusted, a lone figure slumped in a chair came into view. Nash.
Her husband.
She thought she remembered her mother sitting in that chair. It must have been delirium due to the fever. Here she was lying in bed in no more than a nightgown, and he sat not two feet from her. If she wasn’t so sick, it would disturb her. Instead, she shifted once more, turning her back to him, and fell into a deep slumber.
She was so cold, her body racking with chills. No matter how many clothes she put on, she was still shaking. She stood in her nightclothes at the top of a hill with the wind whipping her, freezing her skin. Snow gathered at her feet, chilling her further. Was there nowhere she could go to get warm? She cried out.
“Arabella!” A gentle shake brought her out of the disturbing dream.
“Nash?”
In the darkness, he leaned over her. “You were thrashing about and moaning.”
“I’m so c-c-c-cold.”
Nash lit a candle by the bedside. He was partially undressed, his hair wild from where he must have been running his fingers through it. “Your fever must be going up again. I’ll get you more blankets.”
“Th-th-thank you.”
Nash piled two more blankets on her, but she still shook. He watched her for a few minutes, then said, “The best thing I can do to warm you up is climb into the bed with you.”
“Yes. I’m really c-c-c-old.”
Her eyes grew wide as he yanked his shirt from his breeches and pulled it off over his head. Golden, muscled flesh, covered with a scattering of dark brown hair down the center of his chest, disappearing into the top of his breeches. If she weren’t sick, she was sure any chill would have disappeared.
He lifted the covers and joined her. “Come here.” He pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her. She settled her head on his shoulder and laid her arm around his middle, relishing the warmth from his body. He’d been correct, he was much warmer than all the blankets he’d covered her with.
“Is that better?” He looked down at her, the darker flecks in his blue eyes illuminated by the candlelight.
“Yes, much better. I don’t understand how I can be so hot one moment and so cold right after that.”
“It’s how your body handles a fever. When my grandmother and cousins were so sick with influenza, I read as much as I could about fevers.”
“Influenza. Is that what I have?”
He hesitated, which raised her fears a bit. “No. The doctor said it could be, but it could also be a common cold. He mentioned nerves, and considering how the last week has gone, there is a good chance this is merely a cold brought on by nerves.”
“I’m not troubled by nerves.”
Grinning down at her, he said, “This has been quite a different week for you than I imagine you’ve been used to.”
“Yes. But it has been for you, as well.”
“Indeed. Hopefully, I won’t catch your illness. But then, I am not a nervous young lady.”
Despite the pounding in her head and pain in her throat, she rallied enough to take umbrage at his remark. “I am not a nervous young lady, either.”
He cupped her cheek and smiled at her in a way that made her stomach do somersaults. Somehow, she was sure it had nothing to do with her illness, either. “I think it is best if you try to return to sleep. You need as much rest as you can to heal yourself.”
“Yes, I am tired.” She settled against him, then asked, “Was my mother here earlier?”
“She sat with you all evening. I sent her to bed and took over your care. Now go to sleep, wife.”
“Perhaps I will.” Sick or no, she was reluctant to use the moniker husband.
…
Nash would probably sleep but naught this night. He’d been uncomfortable in the chair, true, but now that he lay next to his warm, soft wife, discomfort had turned into torture. At least her shaking had ceased. She had seemed coherent just now when they spoke. He remembered his grandmother delirious for most of the time she suffered from influenza, which encouraged him to think perhaps Arabella suffered from no more than a cold.
He ran his fingers up and down her arm. Glancing down at her, he caught a slight smile on her face. She was truly a lovely woman. It annoyed him that her mother had been so unsure of her daughter’s appeal she had foisted old men on her. Arabella could have easily attracted a young, handsome, wealthy, and titled gentleman. Well, it turned out she had—except for the wealthy part. Certainly not to her mother’s credit, but her bumbling ineptitude, instead.
Here he was on his wedding night, holding his beautiful bride in his arms, and unable to do anything to assuage the lust. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying desperately to sleep so the time would pass. Arabella turned the other direction and shoved her plump bottom into his side. He groaned.
Sometime later he woke up covered in sweat. He’d never been so hot in his life. Lying next to Arabella was like lying next to a fireplace. When he tried to ease away from her, she moved back again. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he hopped off the bed and hesitated at first, then slid his breeches down. The cool air on his naked skin felt wonderful.
Arabella began moving her arm over where he’d lain, whimpering. Well, there wasn’t much he could do. He climbed back in, wrapped his arm around her middle, and drew her close to him until they were huddled together. Her nightgown had ridden up to her hips, and his very delighted erection was trying desperately to find its way inside her moist warmth. With a groan, he moved his hips back slightly, which she seemed to allow, as long as his arm encircled her.
With a sigh, and counting the horses in his stable one by one, name by name, he attempted to go back to sleep.
Nash kissed the soft skin under his lips. He pushed aside the long braid covering said soft skin and continued to kiss, lick, and suckle. The scent of lemon and lavender drifted to his nose. Only half awake, he pushed his hips against more soft, warm flesh. It had been some time since he’d awakened like this, and his raging erection told him it was time to correct that situation.
Slowly his hand wandered up the front of a sweet-smelling woman, cupping a full breast with a stiffened nipple. He encircled the nipple with his thumb and received a slight moan for his efforts. His hand slid to the other breast, and the woman shifted her lovely, plush bottom against him. He slowly opened his eyes, and jerked back. Dear God, he was fondling a sick woman!
Arabella must have awakened at the same time. She squeaked and moved so far, so fast away from him, that she tumbled to the floor. “Ouch!”
“Arabella! Are you all right?” He leaned over the side of the bed. She lay on the floor in a heap. Her nightgown was twisted around her waist, displaying beautiful, well-shaped calves and thighs. Thighs that joined right where black curly hair nestled against her alabaster skin.
“Close your eyes!” Arabella struggled to get her gown down. Nash tried, honestly he did, but he could not take his eyes off her lovely body displayed right there in front of his very happy eyes. “Nash!”
Grinning, he reached over and she took his hand. Once she stood, the gown fell in waves around her legs, covering that wonderful sight. He sighed, and she blushed a deep red. Holding her nose in the air, she climbed into the bed next to him. When she lifted the sheet, she sucked in a deep breath. “You’re naked!”
“And you must be feeling better since you are aware of all these things.” He reached over and rested his palm on her forehead. “You are much cooler. In fact, I would say your fever is gone.”
“I do feel better. My throat is still sore and my head aches, but the aches in my body seem to have stopped. And—I’m hungry.”
“Excellent. I will ring for Sophia and have her bring a tray for both of us.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Looking over his shoulder, he grinned as Arabella studied his nakedness with curiosity, despite the flush of embarrassment on her face. No shy swooning maid, his wife. All the more reason for her illness to hurry up and pass.
He pulled on his breeches and strode to the door and rang the bell for Sophia.
“Do you suppose whatever plagued me all day yesterday is truly gone already?”
Nash came back to sit on the bed next to her. “It might or might not be.”
“Well, that’s a definite answer.”
“Sometimes you can feel better, only to have the symptoms come back again. That is why doctors say the patient should remain in bed for at least two or three days after the fever breaks.”
“I will find it most difficult to stay in bed that long.”
Visions of both of them naked in bed for three days had him hardening again. He would certainly have no problem keeping her entertained. He pushed those thoughts aside as a scratch at the bedchamber door drew their attention. “Come,” Nash said.
Sophia entered, a slight blush on her face when she saw Nash sitting on the bed with Arabella, only wearing his breeches. “Good morning, my lady. You are looking a bit better than the last time I saw you.”
“Thank you, Sophia. I am feeling somewhat better, and I would like some breakfast.”
Nash turned to the maid. “Nothing too heavy. Some porridge, and maybe a bit of toast. And tea.”
…
Arabella chafed at his overbearing manner. “I am capable of choosing my own breakfast, my lord.”
Ignoring her, he turned to Sophia. “You may leave now. As for me, please have Cook fix my usual breakfast. We will both be breaking our fast in here.”
Well. This marriage was not starting off the way she had planned. He had already demanded she stay in bed for three days and ordered her breakfast for her, as if she were a child. Deciding she would have her say, she tapped him on the shoulder. “My lord, please understand I have no intention of allowing you to order my sleeping habits or my meals. I am a woman grown, and I intend to conduct myself in such a manner.”
To her absolute horror, he laughed. Laughed! How dare he? She drew herself up. “I do not see what is funny about this.”
Now he doubled over and continued to laugh until she had an urge to smack him over the head with the pillow. Or something hard.
“Do not laugh at me. You were the one who insisted on this marriage, and I will not be a biddable wife who listens to your every command.”
“Oh my dear. That never crossed my mind. However, I told you I have done quite a bit of reading on influenza. Perhaps just this once, you can adhere to my superior knowledge?”
Arabella snorted. “Superior knowledge, indeed.” She crossed her arms under her breasts.
Nash’s jaw dropped, and he licked his lips.
“What?” Seeing where he gawked, she looked down and was appalled that her crossed arms were shoving her breasts upward, making the brown nipples that pressed against the fabric visible through her nightgown. She dropped her arms and pulled the sheet up to her neck.
Heat climbed from her stomach to her face. Alarmed, she realized the heat was not only embarrassment, but a sense of unease and excitement in her stomach at the look on her husband’s face. “You may leave now.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. I think I will check on breakfast.” He jumped up from the bed and practically ran out the door, forgetting no doubt he was without boots and a shirt. He returned within seconds and sheepishly grabbed his boots and shirt and left again.
Arabella flopped down on the bed. She did feel a lot better, but truth be known, she was still sick and weak. A few days in bed would not be a bad idea. She could have her furry friends visit, and do some needlework and read. After the stress of the betrothal and quick wedding, a little bit of rest would be a good thing.
…
After five days with no return of the fever, Arabella left her bed and ordered a bath. During his daily visits, Nash had told her that once she was recovered, they would take a trip to Suffolk. He wanted to speak in person with his steward and go over his books. He’d begun to believe there was something untoward going on, that had begun sometime before his father had died.
He’d sat on the edge of her bed, all arrogance and self-importance. “Once I’ve decided you are well enough, we will make the trip to Suffolk”
She felt the heat rise to her face at his condescension. “Once you have decided?” Why did he continue to behave as though she were a muddle-headed half-wit?
He looked at her, genuinely confused. “What have I done wrong this time?”
“You don’t even know, do you?” Arabella had never felt the need to inflict violence upon a person. Until she’d met Nash.
“I am an adult. I can certainly determine if I am in robust enough health to travel to Suffolk.”
Nash snorted. “I do not attribute wise decisions to you, Wife.” He stood and straightened his jacket. “However, I believe you are most likely ready to travel.” With those commanding words, he bowed and left the room. Arabella picked up the book she’d been reading and hurled it at the door.
She slapped her hands on the bed. Oh, to smack that smile off his arrogant face. She collapsed back onto the pillows. Since she was not quite ready to face Society, anyway, she was more than happy to comply with his request. She just resented the way he’d phrased his words. If only the man had asked if she were up to the trip, instead of telling her he would decide when they would go, and that she should be packed and ready when he felt the time was right.
Nash had taken to sleeping in her bed each night. He said it was because he wanted to be sure her fever didn’t return. Each morning she awoke with his arms wrapped around her, his hands wandering over her body. She’d pushed his hands away, but each time it grew harder and harder to do so. Truth be known, that glance of his naked backside had started her wondering what the rest of him looked like. The feel of his warm flesh under her hands had her anticipating their joining.
She’d spent enough time around animals to know how things worked. The feelings he’d elicited from her body when he touched and fondled her had her more than ready to discover the rest of it.
It was a long day of taking a tour of the house with the housekeeper, Mrs. McGregor, and consulting with Cook on menus for when they returned. After all of that, Arabella looked forward to reaching her bed, still feeling weak. Nash had not yet told her when they would be leaving, but since she was up and about, most likely it would be soon. When she questioned him, Nash assured her that any remaining weakness would be the last symptom to disappear. He also took that opportunity to remind her she had grumbled about spending three days in bed.
Now she sat in front of the mirror in her new bedchamber, studying her expression. She was certain this would be the night. Sophia had just left her after helping with her bath and brushing her hair into a shiny gloss that fell in waves to caress her shoulders. She wore a lovely new night rail—white, with small pink flowers embroidered along the scandalously low neckline. Her husband would be pleased with her appearance.
Attempting to distract herself, she looked around the room. During the time of her illness, she hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings, keeping the bed drapes closed most of the time while she’d taken one nap after another.
Her things had been moved into the dowager countess’s former space. During one of their conversations when he’d visited her, Nash had told her she was free to redecorate and rearrange to her own taste. She did not see that much needed to be done. The walls had been covered in tasteful green and rose silk wallpaper. The highly polished wooden floor was partially covered by rose and green patterned carpets.
All the wood trim in the bedchamber, along with the fireplace, had been painted white. The space had been brought together with draperies and bedding in white, rose, and green. With her own belongings now in the wardrobe, perfumes and creams lined up on the dressing table, and her favorite pens and journal adorning the small escritoire tucked into a corner, she felt very much at home.
The sounds of Nash moving around the room and speaking with his valet next door reminded her of the fact that after tonight she would be his wife in truth. Mother had assumed this would be the night Nash would insist on his husbandly rights, since she’d been up and about all day, and she’d come to offer a bit of motherly advice. The short, hurried words she’d practically whispered had made it difficult not to roll her eyes. “Just do your duty. Lie still, don’t complain, and it will soon be over.”
Her eyes flew to the door between their rooms as it slowly opened.