“Tease me not,” she said in a solemn, hushed tone as the riders began to move. “Without ye, I am an unwelcome stranger in an unfriendly place.”
“You have made friends enough at court. This is isolated.”
“Aye, it makes me feel isolated.”
“Take heart, Elizabeth. The survivors will hang, and the traitors died pitiful deaths. This will set an example to those who do not accept you.”
She shook her head. “That is what I am afraid of.”
* * *
When they reached Nanningbrook, Darcy had wanted to tend to his wounded men, but Elizabeth insisted he be looked at first. The physician met them in the same bedchamber they had previously occupied and inspected the ugly gash on his arm. The blood had crusted over, and the flesh was a swollen, angry purple, but the wound was not deep. The physician moved to clean it, but Elizabeth ordered him out to tend to the guards.
“You were worried about losing me. Are you now hoping an infection will set in?”
In her frustration, the lady made an unladylike noise through her nose. “Nay, ye dolt. I shall clean thy wound myself.” Carefully, she washed the dried gore away, placed a salve with some healing herbs on the cut, and wrapped it all in a soft, clean cloth. When the wound was dressed, she pressed her lips to the gauze then to his forehead.
“A thousand thanks for saving our lives.”
“What?”
“It occurred to me when that blade was against my stomach that I may already be with child. If I am, I just wanted to thank ye in advance. Not every man would spill his own blood for his wife.”
“Then that man would be a fool. Or he is not married to my wife, which is a good thing because his blood would spill regardless.”
It was then that she began to cry: fat, heavy tears slipping down her round cheeks. Her shoulders shook and her nose ran, and Darcy stared at it all in a fascinated sort of horror. He had caused many women to cry, but none had ever sobbed in his presence. Unsure, he gripped her shoulder and squeezed.
“My sweet, all is well. I am still here.”
“I know,” she wailed, weeping harder.
He bit back a witty observation and pulled her into his arms, sensing she needed physicality instead of banter. Immediately, her breathing calmed though she still snuffled. Gently, he rocked her, smoothing her hair and whispering soft, sweet words.
“Surely, you cannot be this upset over me.”
“Why not? Are ye not my husband? Are ye not the man I have lain with? Might ye not be the Papa of my child? Do not tell me I cannot mourn or be scared.”
“You loathed me two days ago.”
“I did not.” She sounded offended.
He gave her a look. Could she see his doubt in the statement?
“Perhaps I did, but I loathed ye under false pretences, as I have already explained. I will not have my sincerity questioned!”
She tried to pull away, but he only held her tighter.
“I am not questioning you. I am attempting to understand why you are so frightened and upset. You have wasted many tears on a man you do not love.”
“But ye are still my husband. I do not want to be left alone.”
He kissed her forehead. “It would take more than an angry mob to pull me from your side, my sweet. I have already admitted to not being able to live without you. I shall not go anywhere.”
“Do ye swear?”
“I do.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “Go be with thy men. I should like to lie down.”