Bound To Bea

Chapter Thirty Five

Troubled, Noah spent the next hour trying to force food down his constricted throat. He was exhausted from the happenings of the day and even more exhausted by his mother's presence. It was unfortunate that his mother chose to hold on to so much animosity towards Bea, but he was unwilling to give in to her will. He couldn't simply abandon his wife because his mother did not approve of his marriage, nor could he abandon his mother because she was displeased with his decision to marry.

Placing his spoon on the table, he shoved the bowl of half-eaten soup aside and rose to his feet. He turned and made his way up the stairs, pausing briefly by Bea's bedroom door. He had half the mind to go in, but changed his mind, having already been informed by his servant that Bea was asleep. He didn't wish to interrupt her rest, and choosing instead to see her first thing in the morning, he opened his bedroom door and stepped in.

Once he had changed out of his day clothes and into a gray nightshirt, he settled in bed, his head sinking into the soft pillow. He let out a tired sigh, barely closing his eyes, when a creaking sound drifted to him.

He opened his eyes, struggling to a sitting position as his gaze shifted to the source of the sound. He pushed the white curtains that draped his bed aside in time to watch Bea enter his room through the adjoining door.

He smiled, his heart skipping at the sight of her. She was still clad in his white nightshirt, the one he had clothed her with himself the evening before, after the attack. It didn't matter that the fabric threatened to swallow her whole, or that her hair was a terrible mess of curls falling to her shoulders, she was breathtaking, and as she crossed the room barefooted to where he sat, gawking at her, he held out his arms to receive her.

She settled into his embrace; her form melting against him. Pressing his nose to her neck, he reveled in the intoxicating smell of her skin as he tightened his hold around her until the gap between their bodies was completely breached.

"Noah." Her warm breath tickled his skin, threatening to drive him wild with passion. "I missed you."

He groaned, wanting nothing more than to draw her into his bed and derive pleasure in her embrace. But he wasn't foolish enough to think she was completely healed of the traumatic experience of the evening before, and he didn't wish to worsen it.

Mentally cursing her father for daring to lay a finger on her, he nodded slowly.

"Forgive me for abandoning you all day." He pulled away slightly, holding her soft gaze. She appeared quite stable compared to last evening. "I trust the servants saw to your every need."

She nodded. "Indeed. I spent nearly the entire day asleep, but when I was awake, your servants were quite helpful. They treated me like the new marchioness."

"As they should."

"Perhaps it is because you situated me in the room reserved for the marchioness."

"That you are."

"Oh, Noah!" She touched his face. He leaned his head slightly against her palm, reveling in her presence. "Did you find out what happened to my father? Is he dead?" Her voice was soft, her face paling as she spoke. He knew that while she was haunted by the thought, she appeared to have had the time to think coherently about the events of last evening and had likely concluded that she hadn't had a choice in the matter of her father's safety, especially because he put her own safety at risk—it was her father's life or her own. He was glad she saved herself.

"As far as I know, he's alive."

"Oh," she sighed, her shoulders sinking. Tears filled her eyes, wetting her cheeks. "Oh, thank God! I wasn't certain I could live with the guilt of knowing I killed him. Is he well, though? Perhaps he must see a physician? There was so much blood, certainly he needs a physician!"