NFH 04 Truce (Historic) (21 page)

“Drink it quickly and you won’t taste a thing,” he lied, again, as he brought the cup to her lips, but she wasn’t having it. She pressed a hand over her mouth, creating a protective barrier against the disgusting liquid.

His eyes narrowed on the action as he placed the cup down on the table. “You’re only making this harder on yourself,” he said, reaching over and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

With narrowed eyes, she quickly replaced it with her other hand. When he pulled the hand away, she did it again until he was forced to grab both her hands, with a frustrated growl, and pinned them against the mattress. His smile was smug until he realized that with both of his hands pinning hers, he couldn’t pick up the cup and force her to drink.

“You’re being stubborn,” he accused with a sullen glare.

“So are you!” she snapped back.

“You need it!”

“No, I don’t!” she shot back, because she really didn’t need it. It was turning her stomach and no matter how much he was able to get down her throat, it did nothing to ease her hunger. She was in fact, starving.

It actually surprised her that she could think about food after….

After losing the baby.

When she realized that she’d lost their child, she wanted nothing more than to follow after it. The pain of losing a child was something that she never wanted to experience again. At the time she’d hated the doctor for it, but she was glad that he’d given her medicine to make her sleep. It had given her a short break from the heartache.

Unfortunately as soon as she had opened her eyes and memories from the night before came back, she had broken down and started crying uncontrollably. It had frightened the poor maid that had been stationed in her room to oversee her recovery. Her loud sobs had also startled Robert, who’d apparently passed out in a chair next to the bed, awake.

As soon as he realized that she was awake, he was on the bed and pulling her into his arms instead of yelling at her as she’d expected. He’d rubbed her back, kissed her forehead and said soothing words to her as she’d mourned the loss of their baby. When Robert realized that the maid tasked with helping her recover was only standing there, gawking at them, he’d sent her fleeing from the room.

From that point on, he refused to allow anyone else to care for her. He turned away every maid that tried. The only thing that he allowed them to do was to bring up the awful tea and broth that he force-fed her or hot water so that she could soak in the tub. When he wasn’t trying to poison her, he was reading to her, holding her, sitting by her side while she slept, or holding her tightly when she couldn’t bear the loss of their child anymore and broke down into sobs.

Neither one of them had mentioned the baby, their wedding, the argument they had that night or a hundred other things that they should probably discuss. Instead, he was simply there for her and it made her love him even more.

She’d never expected this level of consideration from her husband. When she’d been a child, she’d fantasized about her own Prince Charming, but even that fantasy hadn’t been as perfect as Robert had been to her over the last two weeks. Men, husbands, didn’t do things like this for their wives. Her father certainly never did this for her mother and Anthony, who she knew loved and adored her sister, never did this sort of thing for Mary. He would visit with her and hold her in his arms when she needed comfort, but Anthony had never devoted every single minute of the day to Mary’s care and wellbeing. It made her feel cherished and helped her through the most painful loss of her life.

“Half a cup, that’s all you have to drink,” he said soothingly as he released her hands and picked up the cup. “Come on, just a few sips.”

She let out an indelicate snort at that as she shook her head. “Not happening, Robert.”

“Elizabeth, it’s good for you,” he said, giving her a smile that did funny things to her stomach.

“Then you drink it,” she said stubbornly, refusing to be swayed by a charming smile.

With a roll of his eyes and a muttered comment about her being a big baby, he brought the cup to his lips and took a long sip that he quickly spit back into the cup.

“What the hell is in that?” he demanded in outrage as he placed the offending cup on the table. He wiped frantically at his mouth to erase the taste and when that didn’t help, he grabbed the vase by her bed, yanked the flowers out of it and tipped it back, drinking every last drop. When he placed the empty vase by the bed, he was still cringing at the bitter aftertaste left in his mouth.

“Good,” she said with a nod as she threw the covers off and shifted her legs to the edge of the bed. “Now maybe I can get some real food.”

“The doctor said that you had to stay in bed for at least another week,” Robert pointed out as he moved to help her back in bed.

“Was it the same doctor that said I had to drink the tea?” she asked, relieved when he stepped back with a sigh and held out his hand to help her to her feet.

“It’s well past midnight. I don’t think there will be anyone up to make you something to eat,” he pointed out once she was on her feet.

“I’m sure that I’ll manage,” she said, not bothering to remind him that she knew how to cook since most men of his standing would be outraged to have their wives do something that they believed was a servant’s job.

“I could always run down to the kitchens and look for something,” he suggested, sounding hopeful.

“You’d eat it all before you even left the kitchen,” she pointed out with a smile.

He considered that for a moment before he shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. “You’re probably right.”

“One day you’ll have to explain how you manage to eat so much,” she said, heading to the door, but she didn’t make it far before she found herself swept off her feet and into his arms.

“I actually have a theory about that,” he said with a smile as he walked to the door.

“Really? What is it?” she asked, too curious to pretend otherwise.

His appetite was rather frightening. She’d never seen someone eat so much food in one sitting. There were actually several maids that refused to wait on him, terrified that he’d accidentally devour their hands if they didn’t release the platters of food fast enough.

“You,” he simply said as he waited for her to reach over and open the door to her bedchamber.

“Me?”

“Mmmhmm, you,” he said with a teasing smile as he pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and carried her out into the hallway that was dimly lit by several candles slowly burning away the late night hours.

“How exactly am I responsible for your terrifying appetite?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“If I recall correctly,” he said, shifting her slightly in his arms so that he could safely navigate the poorly lit staircase with her in his arms, “you cursed me and all my future heirs.”

She gasped. “I did no such thing!” she said, even though it did kind of sound like something that she would do.

“You certainly did, minx,” Robert said, chuckling as he carried her down the back hallway, towards the kitchen.

“Well, I’m sure that you did something to deserve it,” she said with feigned haughtiness that had him grinning as he turned and pushed the kitchen door open with his back.

“I buried all your dolls in the pig’s pen,” he said, chuckling as he carefully set her down on her feet.

“You really were a horrid child,” she said with a smile as she walked away from him and began to search through the cupboards, wondering what she’d done to make Robert do something so cruel. It was probably something much worse than what he’d done to her, she thought with a satisfied sigh.

“Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” Robert said as he quickly lit more candles as well as several oil lamps so that they could see what they were doing.

As she quickly scanned what was available to them, she decided that eggs, ham and fresh biscuits would probably be the easiest thing for her to make. Decision made, she told him what she needed as she did her best to ignore her stomach’s growling demands.

Robert shot her an amused smile that she chose to ignore as she started on the biscuits. By the time she had the dough made and ready to rise, she was ravenous and considering skipping this step and simply cutting the biscuits and baking them, uncaring that they would end up flat. The only reason that she hesitated in doing just that was Robert. She’d bragged that she made the best biscuits and now she wanted to prove it. But, she was so hungry and she wasn’t sure that she was going to be able to wait until-

“Here,” Robert said as he placed a small platter overflowing with cheese, bread and cut ham in front of her.

“Thank you,” she barely murmured as she started to attack the food.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a chuckle as he helped himself to the food.

For several minutes they sat there eating in comfortable silence while she kept an eye on the dough. It was actually rather nice, she thought just before Robert had to go ahead and ruin it.

“I think we should talk.”

“I know,” Elizabeth agreed with a small sigh as she popped another piece of cheese into her mouth, sounding so damn disgruntled by the prospect that he couldn’t help but smile.

For a moment she stared down at the bowl of dough as she toyed with a piece of bread and he wondered what she was thinking. Perhaps she was preparing herself for another fight, he realized with a wince. He was done fighting with her. They’d been doing it since they were children and, as much fun as it had been, it was time to put an end to it.

She was his wife and his responsibility, and they couldn’t go on like this. He’d been very fortunate that he hadn’t been raised in a cold family, and he wanted their children to be just as fortunate as he had been. Like most couples, his parents weren’t in love, but unlike most couples that he knew, they were very good friends.

It probably hadn’t hurt that his parents were raised knowing that they were betrothed to each other. They were two years apart and had lived less than two hours away from each other as children. They’d accepted the situation without complaint. His mother’s family had wanted a title for their daughter while his father’s parents had wanted to fatten their coffers and ensure that their son had a pleasant wife.

They’d always been friends, sometimes acting more like siblings than a married couple. They’d never shared a room, never looked at each other with anything more than casual affection, and never pretended to be in love. Not that he wanted to know, because the knowledge would probably scar him for life, but he doubted very much that his mother had graced his father’s bed since she’d provided him with an heir and a spare so that the line could continue.

She’d also never seemed upset that her husband kept mistresses and lovers. It never seemed to bother her, and Robert knew that she was well aware that they existed. Whenever his father left to go spend the night with another woman, she always gave him a knowing smile and wished him a good night.

They’d never fought, yelled at each other or ignored either James or himself as they pursued their own amusements. They raised their children in a warm family, with love and understanding and Robert wanted that for his own family. He certainly didn’t want to raise his children in a cold home like the one that Elizabeth had been raised in.

Lady Norwood was the typical mother and wife of the
ton
. She said the right things, wore the latest fashion, obeyed all the rules and snubbed her nose at those who didn’t. She also had very little to do with the raising of her daughters. She’d left that to nannies and governesses, only involving herself in her children’s lives when it came to gossip, the prospect of her daughters marrying, or if her daughters embarrassed her in some way.

The only good thing that he could say about Lord Norwood where his daughters were concerned was that the man did genuinely love and care about his girls. He’d seen Lord Norwood worry about them, smile warmly when he saw them and seem genuinely pleased to have them around.

Unlike his parents, the Norwoods were virtual strangers, choosing to spend most of their time apart. Although Lady Norwood hadn’t complained about her husband keeping women on the side, she did demand a shinny bauble the next morning. It hadn’t taken Robert long to figure out their routine. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday night, Lord Norwood would bid his wife goodnight before he left to spend the night with his mistress. In turn, Lady Norwood would send her husband a cold glare, not because she was truly upset that he was spending his nights with other women like Robert had first suspected, but to remind him that she would expect him to buy her forgiveness in the morning.

It was not the type of marriage that he wanted and certainly not one that he wanted his children to be exposed to everyday. While he would like to be able to put the past behind them and start over as friends, he also didn’t want his parents’ marriage. He didn’t simply want a cordial marriage. He desired Elizabeth and wanted to spend every night with her in his arms and, in order to get that, they were going to have to talk.

“I’m very sorry that I didn’t tell you about the baby,” she said softly, bringing up the one subject that he’d decided to put off until another day.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked just as softly, terrified that he’d say or do something to scare her or make her cry.

Too late, he realized as she wiped a tear off her cheek with a small cooking cloth. Pretending that everything was okay, she stood up and focused all of her attention on the bowl of dough. Somehow he forced himself to remain seated when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and tell her that he forgave her, that it wasn’t important, but it was.

He wanted to know, needed to know. He wasn’t as angry as he’d been before. Christ almighty, how could he be? She’d just lost their child and he knew that she grieved over that child with all her heart. He’d seen the anguish in her eyes as she’d cried over the loss of their first child.

She’d only been a little over a month and a half into her pregnancy, but he knew that she’d already loved that baby. While most women would simply accept the fact that they’d lost a child since it happened so frequently, Elizabeth had taken the loss hard. It told him so much about her, confirming his earlier opinion of her and making him regret ever calling her a bitch even if he’d only done it in his head. He just couldn’t see the woman that he’d held in his arms over the past two weeks while she cried her heart out being a vicious bitch who would purposely subject a child to a life of misery and being labeled a bastard.