Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.

**PLEASE** read the AN at the end. Some important info is there regarding the BatB fundraiser and the posting schedule for DoMH.

Previously ...

I resist the urge to fall to my knees, begging him to allow me to stay, and turn to step toward the door. As my hand reaches the handle, two words—strained and gravelly—are enough to halt my escape.

"Stay ... please."

Chapter 20

I look back over my shoulder, but he is still hidden in the shadows. "But you—"

"I know what I said," he rasps, but then his voice softens. "Or did not say." His exhale is loud in the quiet of the room. The rustle of fabric accompanies the movement of his bed curtains. When the dim light of the fire falls upon his face, I very nearly cry in relief at the sight of him.

"I am sorry." His earnest expression has me rushing toward him, eager to be at his side.

When I reach him, I fall to my knees at his bedside. "No, My Lord"—I fervently shake my head— "do not apologize. It is I who should be sorry; sorry for coming to you uninvited, for forcing you to see me. I am so very sorry."

His fingertips reach out to brush over my cheek, and the sensation sends ripples down my spine. "Please do not apologize, Isabella ... my beautiful wife. I am just so ..." He withdraws his hand and rubs at his brow, exhaustion and agony still so clear on his face.

I gently brush away his hand, replacing his harsh rub with my gentle touch. "I know," I whisper. "But you are home now, and there is nothing for you to do but rest and heal."

His gaze is pointed, intense and focused on me. I would give anything to know what he is thinking.

A harsh wind blows beyond the castle wall, rattling the window with its intensity, and Edward visibly shudders.

"Are you cold?" I ask softly, unwilling to break the tentative peace that has settled between us. He nods, and I rise to my feet, turning toward the hearth.

"Isabella, please." His voice is sharp, pained. "I may be sorry for speaking to you so harshly, but I do not want you to do the work of a servant."

I kneel and reach for a log, placing it in the dying fire. "I know you do not, but do not take away my right as a wife to care for my husband." I use the poker to stoke the dimming embers, bringing the flames back to life.

"It is not right," he grouses as I rise to my feet, brushing off my hands.

I turn back to him. "So, you would rather call for a servant to do it? Invite someone into your bedchamber to do something which took me all of a moment to accomplish?"

His brow furrows, and the corner of his mouth turns down as he huffs a breath. "No, I would not."

I return to his side. "Then please stop worrying yourself over such things. I would much rather have this time alone." I lower myself to my knees once again and take his hand. "It has been much too long." I bring his reddened, cracked knuckles to my lips, placing a kiss upon them.

"It has." He reaches out with his free hand to push my hair behind my ear as the fire crackles and pops its way back to a blaze. "Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. I dreamed of you," he whispers.

"And I, you, My Lord. My Edward." Happy tears gather in my eyes, and I watch as his begin to shine with his own tears in the brightening firelight. But there is also remorse reflected back at me.

"I am sorry I sent you away, that I would not see you. I—"

I shake my head. "You do not need to—"

"I do, Isabella. My mother came to see me and made me see how obstinate I was being. She reminded me how much I hate it when my father cannot see reason, and she pointed out how much I was behaving like him." He searches my eyes. "I am sorry," he repeats in not much more than a whisper.

I am unsure I can form a suitable reply, unsure one is even required, so I merely nod.

"I am just so ..." He shakes his head. "I did not want you to see me like ... this." He waves a hand over his bruised, weakened body.

I tilt my head to the side. "See you how? Like a man who fought for his life to return to his home, to his family? A man strong enough to withstand the horrors you must have and live to tell of it?"

He looks at me with sadness lingering in his eyes. "I do not feel very strong at the moment," he says quietly.

"But you are."

His brow furrows. "You truly see me that way?"

I lower my head and nod once. "I do." I grasp his hand tighter, and he squeezes in return. "You are the strongest man I know." I look up at him. "And I am so happy the Gods returned you to me." The emotions I've held at bay come rushing out of me, tears spilling from my eyes and sobs ripping from my chest like a bubbling spring.

He releases my hand and widens his arms.

Needing no invitation, I crawl up and over the side of the bed and into his embrace, reveling in his mere presence. His arms wrap around me, slowly, firmly holding me to him. As he draws me closer, he hisses.

I begin to pull back. "You're still in pain."

He only holds me tighter. "And that will likely not change for quite a while. But I fear I will be in more pain if I do not have you in my arms." The desperation in his voice is enough to make me relent, and I allow him to hold me as close as he wishes.

We lie in relative silence, basking in the togetherness. Every fiber of my being wishes to squeeze him to me, to assure myself he is alive and here, but I fear I will cause him even more pain than he is already feeling. He is still so weak, so battered and bruised, so I settle for merely holding on to him.

"I prayed for you every day," I whisper. "I prayed to your Gods and to my God, and I begged them to return you to me." I breathe him in, and the smells of herbs and tinctures are almost overpowering, but I inhale deeply, assuring myself he is really here, and this is not some cruel dream.

"Thank you," he says, his voice cracking. "I constantly prayed to see you again, even if just for a moment. Some days, I think it was the only thing to sustain me."

I tilt my head back and meet his eyes. "And the Gods listened."

He smiles weakly and nods once. "They did. It seems they also answered my other prayers." The hand cupping my cheek moves to my middle, finally coming to rest over the swell of my abdomen. "Is it true?" he whispers. "Do you carry my child?"

I nod, shyly looking back to his chest, avoiding his gaze. "It is true," I whisper.

"And all is well?" he asks shakily. "You are well?"

I cover his hand with my own. "All is well," I reassure him. "I have even felt him stir. Does that please you, My Lord? My Edward?"

He gently grasps my chin, tilting my head back to meet my eyes, and my question is met with a smile that rivals the firelight in the room. "It does ... greatly." His voice is still gravelly, strained, but his excitement with the news is clear. "You have no idea how much it pleases me." He places his hand at the back of my head, drawing me back to rest it against his chest, under his chin. I settle into the warmth I find there, and he holds me close. "The Gods have certainly blessed us." He kisses the top of my head.

I curl up against him, held safely in his arms, and listen to the thud of his beating heart beneath my ear. The sound is soothing to my weary soul, reassuring; it is a sound I'd thought I might never again hear. It feels almost too good to be true, as if we have been given too much, and I fear we stand to lose much as well.

"I worry we are tempting fate."

He looks down at me, a small frown on his face. "Bringing a child into the world may not be without its dangers, but I have to believe the Gods would not bring me back to you only to take you or the child away from me." He cradles my face in the warmth of his hands. "Do not worry, Isabella. Their blessings have shined favorably upon us thus far, returning me home, and I believe their blessings will continue."

"They have blessed us, have they not?" I offer a small smile.

"They most certainly have." His fingertips dance lightly across my jaw as his thumb trails against my cheekbone, his gaze intense upon me. "I know I am not the man you wed," he begins, "but I beg you allow me the chance to once again prove myself worthy of you."

"It is I who worries she is not worthy of you," I say softly.

"Why would you say that?" The intensity of his eyes shows an earnestness that is familiar. It is the same sincerity he showed me the day he proposed marriage to me in the meadow, and it warms me from the inside out. But it also reminds me of the lingering doubts caused by his refusal to see me.

"The day you asked for my hand, you told me you wished for me to one day rule by your side. And when you would not allow me to see you, I feared you no longer felt that way—that I was no longer worthy of standing beside you."

"Oh, Isabella, of course you are worthy. How can you even question that?"

"You promised me we would make decisions together—face things together—and I was not even allowed to be at your side." I sniffle, fighting back my tears. "I thought perhaps you no longer saw me the same way."

His sorrowful eyes search mine as his hand gently passes over my head, finally coming to rest on my cheek. "Of course I see you the same way. I could live a thousand lifetimes and never be able to pay penance for sending you away. Even if it was only three days, it was three days too long. I can only beg your forgiveness. It appears I am weak, not only in body, but in mind, and I could not bear the thought of you seeing me this way."

"I've already told you I do not see you as weak."

"I know." He kisses my forehead and smiles against my skin. "And I thank the Gods for that."

I take a deep breath, gathering courage to say what I am thinking. "Do not do it again," I say resolutely. "Do not push me away when you need me." I pull away and peer up at him. "I am your partner in this life. You trusted me to choose you, to choose to be your wife. Do not take away my choices. My place is beside you."

He smiles. "There is no place I'd rather you be." Again, he pulls me into his arms.

"You are wrong about one thing," I whisper.

"Wrong? About what?"

"You are the man I wed."

He scoffs. "I am far from—"

I place my fingertips against his cracked lips, silencing him. His eyes widen in surprise. "You are the man I wed," I stress once again. "You are strong, courageous, and as true as you were the day you asked me for my hand. Your absence has done nothing to change that."

He kisses the tips of my fingers and smiles. "I do not know what I did to earn your devotion," he whispers against them. Again, he pulls me close, wrapping me back in his arms, only this time his hand moves to cover the child resting between us. "When? When will the child be here?"

"The midwife tells me it should be early summer."

He nods once. "Good. Then he will have the warmer months to grow strong." He looks down at me. "Mother tells me she was worried for Alice's son. Arriving as winter is upon us is never good timing." He is quiet for many moments. "I can only pray Jasper survives to meet him," he says so faintly I am not sure I was meant to hear.

I allow several moments to pass while I gather my courage to ask the questions raging inside me. When I can no longer stand it, I speak.

"Can you tell me?" My question is met with silence, and I quickly try to withdraw it. I begin to pull away from him. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Shh. It is all right." He pulls me impossibly closer. "I ..." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the top of my head. "Can we just be like this for now?" he rasps.

I swallow my tears at his obvious discomfort. "I would like nothing more."

His hold on me only tightens, as if I will float away if he does not tether himself to me, and we drift off to sleep in one another's arms.

Quiet murmurs beyond the bed curtains rouse us both, and our eyes meet. I am greeted with the warm green I so missed and a soft smile.

"Good morning," he whispers, unwilling to alert our unwanted visitors to our wakefulness.

I smile in return, mouthing my reply. "Good morning."

He kisses my forehead and tucks me back under his chin. "See to it my wife is fed," he barks at whoever has chosen to disturb us, his voice rumbling in my ear as it lies upon his chest.

His command is met with silence.

"Is there a problem?"

"Your Highness?" The timid question alerts me something is indeed amiss.

"What is it?" he impatiently asks.

"We were sent to inform you the king is requesting an audience with you."

"Of course he is," he mumbles, once again rubbing at his head. It is a sure sign he is upset. Even lying down, his shoulders slump against his bedding. With detached resignation, he finally answers them. "Tell my father I will expect him at midday."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Their feet shuffle across the rugs toward the bedchamber door, but before they reach it, Edward calls out. "And do not forget to bring a meal for my wife." His hand reflexively moves to my middle, and I smile.

"Do not forget yourself, husband," I whisper.

"And for myself," he shouts just before the door closes, the agreements of the servant the last thing we hear before it latches.

He sighs and pulls me closer. "It appears duty is calling much sooner than I would like." He kisses the side of my head.

"I do not like it, but I expected it." I look up from his chest. "Honestly, I am surprised your father has not insisted on seeing you before now."

"I imagine my mother has something to do with that." He smiles. "She was a fierce protector of yours when she came to see me. Well, of both of us." His hand cups my cheek. "She reminded me how much I needed you."

"She cares for you very much."

"She cares for you just as much."

I smile. "I feel very blessed to have found a mother in her."

The corner of his mouth turns up. "She said much the same about you—that she felt she'd found a daughter in you." His thumb runs over my cheek. "I am happy to hear you've grown close. What of my father? Has he been as welcoming?"

I hesitate, but only for a moment. "He has made sure I have everything I have needed." I sit up, fearing where this conversation might lead, and pull away from him.

"Isabella, that is not what I meant," he says softly, likely sensing my reluctance to be forthcoming.

"I know. He has been quite distraught over your absence, and—" I pause, unsure what else I should say.

"And what?" he prods.

I hesitate. At the time, the king's words and actions hurt me greatly, but I now know his true motivations. "It has taken a while for us to realize we only wanted the same thing."

"Which was what?"

I smile. "Your safe return." Knowing this may be the only chance I get to leave without furthering our conversation, I seize the opportunity. "I think I will take the time for a personal moment before they return with our meal. And I am sure Elder Afton is not far behind to check on your progress," I say as I slip from his bed. "I will return as soon as I am able." I reach as far as I can from the steps at his bedside, standing on my on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, receiving surprised silence from him. "I shall not be long."

I know there is a passageway between Edward's rooms and my own, but I do not want to linger, for fear he will ask more questions about the tense relationship between his father and myself. I quickly walk out of his bedchamber, through his sitting room, and into the corridor, hurrying back to my own rooms.

Angela is there to greet me, a smile on her face. "My Lady! Did you see him? Did he allow you to stay? How is he?"

She launches question after question, and her eagerness makes me laugh. "Yes, yes, and he is well." I walk toward the screen in the corner of my room, intent to tend to private matters. "Could you see to a fresh dress and perhaps help me brush out my hair?" I ask as I use the chamberpot. "I would like to return to him as soon as I can."

"Yes, My Lady. Would you like me to bring you something to break your fast?"

"No, Edward asked his man to bring us both something." When I get no reply, I peek my head around the screen. "What is—" My words are cut short when I lay eyes on Angela. Her smile is so wide, I fear her cheeks will begin to hurt.

"I am so happy for you. His Highness is home. He is well, and the light is finally back in your eyes."

My returning smile makes my own cheeks ache. "I am happy, too."

Once I am dressed and ready, Angela shows me the passage between my chambers and my husband's, and I return to him. He is propped up in his bed as Elder Afton inspects his slowly healing injuries. One of the servants attempts to tend to him, reaching to adjust the pillows behind him.

Judging by the scowl on his face, Edward does not like being fussed over and pushes away his hands. "Enough. I don't need you to—"

"That will be all. I can assist Elder Afton if he should need my help," I say, dismissing the man.

He bows in my direction. "Yes, Your Highness," he says, relief coloring his words.

"Ah, Your Highness. It is good to see you." The priest's kind smile earns one in return.

"You as well." I step to my husband's bedside and direct my attention to him. "The sun is barely in the sky, and you are already terrorizing the poor people who are only trying to care for you," I tease.

"If they cared at all, they would leave me in peace." His scowl is directed at the older man inspecting a wound on his forearm. "I've no wish to be doted upon."

A chuckle comes from the aging priest. "Doted upon? You call my attention and limited knowledge of healing doting?" Again, he laughs. "And if that is how you have been treating the servants, I can say with confidence you will not long be abed." He levels Edward with a sly smile. "You are still the difficult young man you always have been."

I giggle at their exchange.

"You think he is funny, wife?" He points to the man who joined us in marriage what feels like a lifetime ago. "This old man forgets I am his prince, and as so I could have him ... banished ... or worse."

I meet the twinkling eyes of Elder Afton. "Yes, I wholeheartedly agree; he is well on the road to recovery."

The priest smiles, but as Edward shifts uncomfortably, it falls. "Your Highness," he says gently, "I still need to examine your back, to be sure the poultice is working."

Edward stiffly nods in return, his worried eyes flashing to mine.

I take a breath and straighten my back, readying myself for his dismissal. "Do you wish me to leave?"

He inhales deeply and slowly breathes out through his nose before shaking his head. "No, stay." He reaches out, opening his hand, and I lace my fingers with his. I help him sit up while he is looked over.

I help them remove his shirt; Edward is stiff and slow on his own. I inhale sharply when his wounds are revealed.

The same deep gashes I saw the night he returned home are still angry and red, but they are even more distressing up close and in the light of day. The long, thin marks look painful, and they cover his back from his shoulders to nearly his waist. They are bright in contrast to the dull green and brown mixture of herbs and oils covering them.

"How are they feeling?" Elder Afton asks as he produces a warm, wet cloth to wipe away the poultice.

Edward nods once. "Better." He looks up at me. "A good night's sleep seems to have helped a great deal."

As Elder Afton wipes at Edward's back, my husband winces, the pain clear on his face. I lean close and place a kiss to his bare shoulder, though I know it does nothing to ease his pain. I smile against his skin when he turns his head to kiss my forehead.

"Then we shall continue as we have," the priest says as he wipes away the last of the poultice. "Rest, eat well, and we will apply more of the herbs after your father has been to see you. In the meantime, I would forgo your shirt until it is necessary and allow the air to get to your wounds." He turns to me. "Perhaps you could assist His Highness in bathing before more of the poultice is applied?"

My gaze flashes to the amused eyes of my husband and back to Elder Afton, my cheeks heating as I stutter my reply. "Of course. I am happy to help him with whatever he needs."

"Very good. Well, if there is nothing else?" He studies both of us, and while I shake my head, Edward opens his mouth, as if to reply, but hesitates, his eyes flashing to me and back to the priest.

Always perceptive, he must already know what it is Edward needs. "Be patient, My Lord. Listen to your body, and you will know when the time is right." He turns to me. "Your Highness, please let me know if either of you require anything. I am but a call away." He pats Edward on the leg, bows just enough for propriety's sake, and sees himself out.

"What was—"

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. "Nothing to be concerned with." He gently tugs my hand until I move to sit beside him on the bed. "So, tell me—since no one was brave enough to be honest with me—how bad are they?"

"The wounds on your back?"

He nods. "They burn like the fiery pits of Hell each time someone touches them or puts the horrid concoction on me. They must be bad."

"They do look very ... painful. I cannot imagine how they must feel."

He inhales deeply and blows it out. "It is not pleasant." His expression softens. "But if I had to experience it again, I would endure each and every lashing, every burn, if it meant I would return to you."

I smile, yet tears gather in my eyes. "I am so glad you are home."

"As am I," he says as his face grows closer to mine. Without thought, I lean. "I would very much like to kiss my wife," he whispers, his lips just a breath away from mine.

"I would like that very much, too."

His tongue swipes out over his cracked lips just before they touch mine. This is not like the innocent kisses we had in our beginning, nor is it like the kisses of passion we have shared while lying naked in his tent. No, this is a kiss of longing fulfilled, of the sheer joy of having been reunited. It is how I imagine selfless love to feel.

A/N: So, how are we feeling? A little better than where I left you last week? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Time is running out to donate to the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser! Donations to the ACLU or RAICES of $10 or more by November 24 gets you a copy of the compilation that includes 90 authors! I've donated two stories, one of which is a DoMH outtake, Captive, detailing what Edward endured while in captivity. See the Facebook group, Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation or the blog batbcomp. blogspot. com for more details about where to submit your receipt.

**!EXCITING NEWS!** If all goes as planned, you'll be getting TWO updates a week until I hit complete! It was a personal goal of mine to have this complete by the year's end. I'm working on what will be the last or next to last chapter, so I'm ramping up the posting schedule. If jayhawkbb can keep up with me, you'll see an update every Tuesday and Friday!

No recs this week. I've been insanely busy with reshuffling rooms in our house, including my space to read and write, so I haven't had as much down time as I usually do. Tell me what you're reading—old, new, complete or WIP—I'd love to add to my TBR list.

And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon!

Lots of love

~Sunshine