She was exquisite. A year ago, she'd been meek, lost and ashamed. He'd been lucky enough to witness the blossoming into a courageous, humble and insanely intelligent woman. The beautiful creature didn't shrink from his sharp tongue, although it did seem to sting her more since the amputation. Sometimes it was painfully hard to feel worthy of her when even getting out of bed had its challenges. Or right now when she fussed, and giving up anything would be worth her not seeing him weak like this. She must fear his inability to protect her anymore; she didn't need to see this. "Go."
"No. There's no shame in being ill."
"There is when it's caused by stupidity," he mumbled as she wiped his wet brow with a cold rag.
"You worked nearly three days without sleep. We know now to not keep crushed aspirin near other drugs so someone doesn't grab the wrong one again. At least you realized it in time so we could make you vomit and get charcoal in."
An intense stomach cramp again. He gasped and curled his legs to his chest. Dear god, it threatened to rip him in two. "Go," he gasped.
Instead, she slid her hand in and rubbed his belly, forcing the spasm to end. "Why?"
Shit, he wouldn't make it to the washroom in time. Shoving back the sheets, he scrambled for the crutches.
"You're dizzy, and none of us can hold you up on crutches." She handed him a bedpan.
"Send Brigands after," he begged.
Thankfully, she nodded and let him humiliate himself in peace.
The professor arrived a half hour later. "I came as soon as I got the message." He walked over to the bed. "What have you done so far?"
"He accidentally took opium powder. Tremors set in moments later, and he had tachycardia. I induced vomiting and got charcoal in him, both ends. Symptoms subsided within minutes," she answered and wiped his wet brow again. "He's having terrible intestinal cramps. He said it's from the charcoal?"
The professor nodded. "It won't do any real harm if you gave a bit too much - it can cause constipation trying to get back out."
"I was so frantic, I just gave him the whole bottle." She looked at the professor in concern.
"We'll chase it down with milk of magnesia in a few hours, once we're certain the opium is gone."
"I just love having you two as physicians," he groaned and reached for the bedpan again.
At sunrise, she woke up with a devastatingly sleepy smile. Then she pulled back the sheets and gently moved his legs toward his chest and back down. "Being you don't have a leg for walking movement to help get your stomach going, this might help. Give me a little resistance to make your abdominal muscles flex."
It helped with the painful bloating too. He watched as she took care to not bump the incision on the end of the stump while flexing the hideous thing. "You don't have to touch it," he said quietly.
"It's no different than your other leg. Actually, I'd say it needs more touching and love." She pressed a kiss just above the incision and then resumed exercises.
His heart pounded. In the lantern light and when he couldn't fall much farther into pathetic helplessness in her eyes, there was nothing to lose. "It should repulse you." Pulling away, he forced himself to sit up and hide the withdrawl tremors that still hung on a bit.
The woman dropped her head back in exasperation. "You get sick of the topic, yet you bring it up all the time."
Clenching his teeth, he looked away and folded his arms over his bare chest.
"Are you feeling a bit better? You have more color and haven't gotten sick all night." The wench tilted her head in that adorable way that she had to know drove him crazy. Then she sinfully bit her bottom lip. "Your muscles have gotten bigger having to use crutches." She straddled his hips and ran her hands up his upper arms to rest on his shoulders.
"Sex will not fix this," he growled.
"Why are you always thinking about sex?" She smiled and pecked a kiss to his lips.
A scowl took over. "I didn't say I was thinking about sex!"
"Then why are you talking about it?" A giggle followed the words.
A deep growl gave a satisfactory vibration of irritation in his chest as he glared.
"I daresay my dragon is almost better."
Picking up the glass of water on the nightstand, he gave a dark look and took a drink.
"Are you going to put a babe in me soon?"
Water went down wrong as he choked. "What?" Wiping spit up water from his short beard, he shook the water off his hand. "We said we were going to wait until he was older."
She smiled and laid down beside him. "I'm just asking in case you changed your mind." The woman laid her head on his upper thigh, not seeming to care about the disgusting makeshift pillow.
"No. Why? Have you?" He eased the stump away.
The wench simply followed her new cushion and rolled onto her back to look up with those heart-melting eyes. "I'm alright to wait a few more months. If you feel better today, we should go lay out in the sun." She closed her eyes, as if utterly content and comfortable. After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked up. "Why are you staring?"
"One would think there's something wrong with your head. This is not a pillow." Pulling away, he replaced his thigh with an actual pillow.
"Does it pain you if I lie on it?"
"Don't pity me, woman," he snapped, his voice cracking. Why didn't she realize how much worse this would make it hurt once she realized this was the best the disability would get? Once she'd pull away? Once she'd leave for a whole man? Swinging his leg over the edge of the bed, his chest constricted. One more time of her witnessing having to grab crutches to even stand was suddenly unbearable. To be so weak when she needed someone whole and strong to keep her monsters away...
Delicate hands touched his shoulders and a warm cheek rested against his back. Her gentle voice spoke near his ear. "I touch not because I pity, but because I cherish this gift you entrust only to me. I see the shame when you let me touch what you hate, but I also see the love underneath that gives you the courage to let me witness what you think is a weakness. You may never believe me that I love you more for this," her hand drifted down to rest atop of the mutilated abomination, "but I need you to trust me. I'm not Anna, Mark." Patience and compassion softened her tone.
His brow furrowed as tears stung, keeping his head bowed.
"Don't let us shrivel because you're afraid to let my love for you grow. This doesn't make you less of a man or protector." She pressed a kiss to his neck and then moved to sit beside him. "Are you worried about sex?"
"Oh, Jesus," he whispered in humiliation and pulled on his nightshirt.
"You don't...you don't seem to want me like you used to. Am I making it hurt or embarrassing you when we make love?" The woman sounded far too worried about his pleasure.
Reaching for the crutches, he pulled himself up. "Do I act like I'm not satisfied afterwards?" he snapped and swung the crutches forward to go to the closet.
Silence.
"You're slowly pushing me out, more and more. One day, I'm not going to be able to get back in," she said softly. So softly that the pain in it anchored his feet. "Is that it?" she continued, "You're so convinced I'm going to leave that you're trying to make me so you can at least see it coming?" Her voice trembled with heartbreak.
Was that it? It was gradually becoming instinct to snap at her since the amputation, to be harder than when she'd first come into his life.
"You have my bond slave papers - "
"That are no longer in effect being your first husband is legally dead," he cut in with little patience.
"Is that what you needed to feel safe that I wouldn't leave? You were different - you opened up more back then." She walked over, those beautiful eyes shimmering with tears and searching for an answer. "If that's what it takes, file new bondslave papers on me."
"Jesus, Tanya, I'm not taking slave papers out on you!" It hurt that she was willing to sacrifice her freedom, even knowing he'd never actually hold her to them. "It's bad enough that marriage makes you property, I'm not taking away your right to ever divorce me!" The words ripped out with years of heartache.
Hurt and anger boiled in her eyes. "Why would I ever divorce you?!"
"Because she wanted a divorce in her last days!"
Huge eyes stared.
The breath froze on his lips. The horrible secret had escaped, the secret that had been locked away so long in a deep, dark hole that it'd almost - almost - been forgotten as a just a bad dream. Turning away, he closed his eyes and cursed. Now his beautiful Tanya finally knew what a horrible husband he was and would be.
"Why? You said she consented to the treatment and stopped as soon as she wanted. You stayed with her all those months she was dying. You loved her." She sounded so confused.
"She didn't love me in the end." Regret tasted so bitter, even all these years later. "When I went to Africa for those six months while she figured out what she wanted, she'd taken lovers. She didn't say anything about it, and I thought we were working through it. She fell ill shortly after. Every time I'd turned to her for passion rather than procreation before her illness, she made it clear that only a pervert would touch his wife that way - that's what whores were for." He cleared his throat. "I found out in her last days that I'd given her a life that made her miserable. She'd apparently settled for me because it's what our families had expected as we grew up together. A childhood friend who had become a suitor she'd best be able to tolerate consummation.
"I'd always thought we'd been in love. Her dying wish was to..." He cleared his throat and swallowed hard, staring at the floor, "be with the man she'd fallen in love with when I was in Africa. I filed for the divorce and sent for him. Neither him nor the divorce papers made it in time before she died." Clearing his throat again, he blinked back the pain. "I wasn't a good husband and fear you'll wake up and realize you've wasted your life too. I know you do not favor her memory, but she was a good woman."
"How? You were gentler back then, and yet she saw you as a monster," she hissed. "You loved her and gave in to any whim she ever had. You were faithful and tried to give her passion. I believe her that she fell out of love with you once she became unfaithful because she had to paint you as a monster to justify that sin, but I don't for a second believe that she didn't at least have some feelings for you until then. If she didn't, she could've easily taken a townhome and lived a separate life from you like so many of the Upper Class do. No one would've thought anything of it, but she chose to stay with you all those years. You saved lives by inventing medicine, and she resented you for it. Did she once show any interest in anything you were passionate about? Did she ever support you? Did she ever once act as a partner, or just a spoiled princess who had no idea of the treasures she held?"
"Medicine is not a field fit for a marquess, much less for a woman," he snapped and turned to meet her hard eyes. "You were raised on nothing and would never see fault in anything I do!"
Her eyebrows shot up. "What, because I'm uneducated and poor? I see what an ass you can be! I know you're arrogant and pompously stubborn and have a temper that only an idiot puts up with! There are days when I'd love to throttle you! But I also see the good that far outweighs the bad, and that's why I stay! It's called love! You're a good man whose heart was abused, so now you keep it locked behind cold walls and throw barbs when anyone tries to get close! She convinced you that you're a monster, and no matter what I say, you'll always choose to believe her over me! I thought we were done having three of us in this marriage!"
"The best goddamn thing you could've done is left me for Thomas or whatever the hell that surgeon's name was when we reached America! I fucking struggle to walk! I'm not going to get better than this! I'm broken in so may fucking ways that it's impossible to count anymore!"
She stormed to the door and held the handle as a tear rolled down her cheek. "This is real love - to see you for your flaws and accept you, to encourage your passions no matter how unconventional. I worship the ground you walk on because, to me, you're perfect with your explosive temper and uneven gait and insanely genius mind." Her face crumpled, causing tears to sting for her pain. "I've never been more than a scarlet letter or a pawn for someone's gain. Even my own father sold me multiple times in exchange for free drink. I didn't know what to do when you came along and loved me. But I'm not so sure anymore if you love me more than you'd love me to hate you. I'd rather go back to being the Injun whore than beg to be loved. Maybe I should've listened in England when you tried to get rid of me."
That arrow struck and forced a tear down his cheek. "Those weeks when we were separated were the worst days of my life," he croaked. Oh god, all this time she'd been gradually breaking, and he hadn't even realized what he'd been doing to her by pushing her away. "You have never been a whore or an Injun." His voice broke on the horrible words.
"Figure out what you want." Her lower lip quivered, tearing his soul in half. "These past weeks, I've been trying to convince myself I'm not just some obligation you tolerate out of honor, because that's how it feels sometimes." Then she walked out and quietly shut the door.
His chest shuddered, and he hurried out, not caring what an ass he'd look like trying to chase down the street after her on crutches in a nightshirt. Sniffling came from the baby's room. He turned and went in.
She shoved nappies and clothes into a satchel as Charles laid in the crib and chewed on the toy horse given to Tanya during her hospitalization in England.
"What are you doing?" She was packing. This was the moment he'd been preparing for since putting a ring on her finger. Cold terror clutched at the thought of her truly leaving.
"You need space to figure out if you want me," she sniffled and kept packing without turning around.
Swallowing hard, he forced down the insecurities. Everything in life had built up to this moment. He'd finally shoved so hard that she was ready to give up everything to see him happy. If she walked out that door, there'd be too much damage to ever save her heart and bring her back. Their marriage and his entire world hung on this moment. "I already know that I want you. You don't need to go for me to know I love you so much that I'd die for you. I fucked up, and I have no idea how we're supposed to get through this amputation, but...don't leave me. Please, Tanya."
Her shoulders shook and she bowed her head, pressing a hand to her eyes.
He walked up and pressed his chest to her back as he set a hand on her shoulder. "We're both upset and making no sense. Don't go," he whispered.
"I don't want you to beg. I just want you to be happy, and I'm making you as miserable as she says you made her."
"No, you're not." He wrapped his arms around and pressed a kiss to her neck. "You and Charles are the only sunshine I can see in this darkness."
"Why do you always comment on my looks if it doesn't shame you?"
"So you don't worry if your looks shame me. You brought it up a few days ago because you were ashamed what those men said." He stroked her arm and braced the other crutch to move her braid aside and see her profile.
She brushed at her eyes but still wouldn't turn around. "Because I'm afraid you'll be ashamed if you aren't prepared for what people say about me."
A deep sigh stirred strands of her hair. "You're more than looks. Perhaps I'm eccentric then. I find your looks very beautiful because they are uncommon. I've seen a Native American woman or two here in America, and you don't quite look like them. The mix of English makes your bone structure and features far more delicate, far more beautiful than any Native American or English or African or any ethnicity I've seen. Did it ever occur to you that Englishwomen disliked you because your looks were ones they tried to achieve by painting their faces with rouge?"
"You're just trying to save your hide."
"No." He wrapped his arms around to hold her from behind. "I'm trying to convince my wife that I believe she's exquisite. I mean nothing more than to allay your fears when I comment on your features."
"Do you only want me to warm your bed?" She sounded genuinely confused.
He sighed. "No. I'm a stupid man. Anna instilled a very real fear that I cannot satisfy a woman in any way. Having the most basic difficulties of in the bedchamber now have fed that insecurity in ways even I can't understand. It's..." god, how humiliating, "it's difficult to maintain arousal because my leg does pain me sometimes in bed, and I'm also nervous if I'll please you. Then desire wanes, which makes me more nervous and begets a cycle."
She turned in his arms and set her hands on his chest. That had to be a good sign. "You're so quick in bed since surgery not because you don't want me, but because you're worried I won't want you?"
"You've been thinking all this time it's because I actually wanted to get done faster?"
Biting her lip, she nodded. "It didn't make sense that you said it's because you want me more."
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he pulled her closer to his chest. "It would be emasculating to not be able to please you now too. I..."
She stroked his back. "Tell me so we can make this better, Mark."
"It's very..." oh god, it was degrading, "I can't...I can't get you pregnant right now."
The woman pulled back so fast that he almost fell forward. She caught his arms and steadied him, but her eyes remained wide. "You mean, you've been faking it?"
"Only a few times," he pleaded. "I figured it's temporary. Right after surgery, I didn't fake anything. Since going back to work, I...don't know." His face burned.
"Is it stressful being back at work?" She seemed more concerned than disgusted or angry.
He looked away. "We work on men who are very physically fit. It's not always easy to see them flirt with my beautiful wife when I can't walk, much less perform in the bedchamber."
"Is this why you've been pulling away? For heaven sakes, Mark, all this heartache these weeks has certainly not been worth it for this. Should you ever have some kind of accident or something where the family jewels had to be sacrificed, I would certainly still find a great deal of pleasure in other sexual acts." The woman said it so matter of fact that it did seem silly now. She set her hands on her hips and glared like she scolded a naughty child. "What's the real reason behind you getting so surly when I touch your leg then?"
A deep frown made his brow hurt. "That you'll see it as a shortcoming and something to be repulsed. Don't scold me."
"I have every right to scold when you've been so pigheaded these past weeks that we've both been nursing broken hearts for no good reason."
"Ask any man, and he'll say it's sound reason!" he huffed.
"Ask any woman, and she'll say you're an idiot. Go wait for me in the bedchamber while I nurse the babe."
"Why?"
"Go. You don't get to know why yet for your idiocy." She opened her nightgown and started nursing Charles, who eagerly accepted breakfast.
"Should I wish to be part of the intimacy of my wife nursing my son, I shall. Get in our chambers."
She cracked a smile. "He'll protest if we interrupt his breakfast."
"I'd protest too, if that's how I was permitted to eat."
Her mouth fell open in shock. "That's not proper to say at all."
"Oh, I have plenty of improper things I'm going to say in bed, wife." He draped a blanket over her shoulder for modesty and guided her into the bedchamber.
Once inside, he leaned against the headboard and pulled her against his chest to help Charles finish breakfast from her scarred breast. "You know, never would I have imagined that it'd be cherished moments to help my wife breastfeed our babe." He pressed a kiss to her hair.
Brown eyes met his. "Never would I have thought a man would find my breast anything but repulsive," she said softly. "Just perhaps, husband, it is similar to how I feel about your leg."
He let that comment go without remark and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
Once Charles was asleep for his morning nap, she climbed back in bed.
"Tanya," he pleaded minutes later when she touched his thigh and desire began to wane.
"Get out of your head," she whispered against his lips and moved her hand to between his legs.
Only, the direct contact caused more stress and a more counterproductive reaction. "Tanya," he whimpered and tried to pull her hand away.
She relented and rose onto her knees to straddle his hips as she looked into his eyes. "We won't force your pleasure, but you do need to relearn how to relax in bed." The woman pulled off her nightgown and tossed it aside. "What would please you to do to me?"
He frowned. "Tell me what pleases you."
"Me?" She blinked. "That's not the point."
"You always want to please me. Make some demands, woman. Did you ever think about it that it'll please me to see you pleased?"
"Oh. I suppose it does take the pressure off of you." She bit her lip. "Well, you're not going to like my answer." When he cocked his head in question, she gave a small smile. "I like it when you're vocal." Her cheeks burned an adorable pink.
His eyebrows rose. "Do you now? Let me hear how much that pleases you, wife." His hand slipped under her nightgown as he laid her down.
Reclining in the tub in his lap that evening, she smiled and stroked his arm. "I think that's the worst and best fight we've ever had."
"How so?" He trailed the washrag up her chest, taking his time to glide along the hills and valleys.
"I came extremely close to staying at a neighbor's house for the night."
"For tonight? I thought you were going to leave me for good." The man leaned forward a bit to meet her eyes.
She frowned. "Leave you? You're not getting rid of me that easily." Then she tilted her head back and pecked a kiss on his lips. "It was the best fight because look at what we worked through today."
That earned a snort as his cheeks turned red. "I didn't expect to react like that in bed and that fast."
She gave a shy smile. "I'm glad that I pleased you that much. If you got me with child, it just means we can be spontaneous in bed the next nine months."
"You're fertile right now too, aren't you?"
Her silky brown hair stroked his chest as she nodded. "Would you be disappointed if I'm pregnant?"
"Of course not. It's not an ideal time right now, but we'd figure out how to make it work, sweetheart." Silence. He pressed his cheek to her temple, something in his voice catching. "Never doubt that I love you, Tanya. With my whole heart."
Her fingers slipped down to lace with his, and she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "I love you too. I know you're ashamed of your leg, but I need you to trust me that I'm not. I'll try to not hover so much, if you'll speak up when you need help. I just want to make things easier for you."
"I know you do, but sometimes easier will only come if I figure out how to do things for myself. We'll start with I have to ask twice a day."
"For now."
"Help me out of the tub tonight?" He pressed a kiss in her hair.
A smile burst free, her heart fluttering with hope. "You'll have to teach me."
"Mostly handing me the crutches and holding my arm so I don't fall backwards when standing from the edge of the tub. I'll teach you, my Tanya."
