Who would dare?
I sit up in bed, watching in fascinated horror as the door swings open.
This has never happened before. I’m torn between anger and complete fascination at the person who would trespass upon my privacy in such a blatant fashion.
The door opens, the dim light of the hallway casting a soft glow around the feminine figure standing before me.
I should have known.
“Princess?” I whisper hoarsely.
It’s her. She’s dressed in a long white rail nightgown, and her hair is in a thick braid down her back. Glassy eyes meet mine as silent sobs wrench through her. Her hands clench at empty air, and she’s shaking.
“What are you doing?” My eyes land on my prosthetic resting on the nightstand, but her head jerks up before I can move to put it on.
She stares at me for a moment, not really seeing, before taking one wobbly step forward, then another. As soon as she is at the foot of the bed, she climbs on, climbing on her hands and knees towards me.
Her face is shining, and wet tears stream down her cheeks. She is shaking uncontrollably.
"Oh, Helena," I murmur. I’ve never seen her like this. Completely and utterly guarded.
Beautiful.
Without thinking, I push several pillows behind my back before wrapping my right arm around her. Drawing her against my chest, I run my hand up and down her back while murmuring nothing in particular into her hair.
My mother used to do the same thing when I was young.
Soon, her shaking slows, and the shuddering gives way to low, deep breaths. Then, impossibly, she falls asleep.
On my bed.
With.
Me.
What can I do? Her head is against my shoulder, and I don’t have the heart to move her.
The waves lap at the side of the ship, and I stare at her. One minute passes. Five. Ten.
Eventually, I realize I’m not going to move her. I can’t.
Instead, I draw the blanket over us both. There’s a strange feeling in my chest, and it takes a long time to realize what it is.
I'm not lonely anymore.
14
This Is Not My Bed
HELENA
Before my eyes open, while I am just barely reentering consciousness, I know where I am.
I mean, his scent is everywhere. The ocean breeze mixed with sunlight. I inhale, drinking deeply from the air. When I open my eyes, Erik is nowhere in sight. I’ve moved overnight, and now I am on the opposite end of the bed. The covers are barely rumpled on the side where I presume Erik slept.
The man doesn’t have an arm! What the hell?
I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed this before. Until I saw his prosthetic resting on the side table, I had no idea.