Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.
Chapter 22
My mouth opens and closes several times, but as I watch Edward stare into the flames, a voice inside my head implores me to remain silent.
I listen.
When he finally turns to look at me, the look on his face is one I've never seen directed at me.
The fire burning in his eyes heats my skin, and my heart begins to race. His gaze roams over me, lingering on my small belly, and drifts up to mine. Out of instinct, my hands drop, protectively covering my child. When he opens his mouth to speak, the ire in his words shakes me to my core.
"Would you care to explain what in all the Gods' names you were thinking, running off into the dark of night—in a storm, mind you—thinking you could rescue me?"
"I ..." My words lodge in my throat, and in an instant, I burst into tears. My hands move to cover my face, hiding my shame as wracking sobs make my chest tight. The man before me suffered so much, endured so much, at another's hand to return home. He showed courage beyond anyone's imagination. But in my desperation, I believed myself to be courageous—that I could run off to be his savior.
If I thought I felt ashamed of my actions when Emmett dragged me back to Masenthorne Castle, it was nothing compared to how I now feel.
"Isabella?"
"I am so very sorry. I do not know what I was thinking. If I would have been thinking clearly, I would never have done it." I fall to my knees at his feet. "I beseech you, husband, please forgive me. I'd no idea I was carrying your child. If I'd have known, I—"
"Shh," he says, his hands reaching out to cradle my face. "Shh. Please stop crying. I shouldn't have yelled, but I ..." He grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "I am so angry right now, Isabella."
"I know. And you've every right to be angry. I did a foolish, reckless thing. I put my life in danger, our child's life in danger, and I regret it every day. I only pray you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. I close my eyes, reveling in his tenderness. Even furious, he shows how much he cares for me. "You're forgiven ... if you promise to never again do such a reckless thing," he whispers against my skin. He pulls away, and I open my eyes to meet his. "You mean too much to me. It would hurt me to lose you," he admits.
"That is something I know all too well," I reply softly. "And I promise to never put myself in danger like that again."
We sit in silence for a long while, and eventually, I lay my head on his lap and close my eyes. His hand moves to stroke my hair, and I quickly fall asleep, the overwhelming emotions of this day finally catching up to me.
Murmured voices wake me a short time later, and I open my eyes to find the smiling face of the queen looking down on us.
"Oh! Your Majesty!" I nearly tumble as I quickly rise to my feet.
"Isabella, please, do not trouble yourself. You looked so comfortable. I am sorry if my presence woke you."
I discreetly wipe at the corner of my mouth, making sure I'm presentable. "No, it is no trouble." I smile to reassure her. "Besides, I should not be sleeping in the middle of the day."
"I remember when I carried my children. I could lie down and sleep at a moment's notice. Some days it was difficult to keep my eyes open."
"Yes, I have had many days like that, but it seems to be lessening as time passes." I look down at Edward, seated in his chair, and he is wearing a smile. "What is it?" I ask him.
He looks between his mother and me. "I am just admiring the women in my life getting along so well. It makes me very happy, that is all."
My cheeks warm, and I look away, suddenly embarrassed by the attention.
"It would seem I interrupted a private moment, and I offer my apologies."
"No, Your Maj—"
"Isabella?"
I smile. "I am sorry. No, Mother, there is no need to apologize. We've much to do, and it would not serve me to sleep through the rest of the day."
She smiles kindly, her gaze shifting between her son and me. "Then I will not overstay my welcome. I only came to tell you of the plans." Her eyes shift to her son. "Your father has called for a feast to celebrate your return."
"A feast?" Edward questions. "With his daughter's husband still knocking on death's door, he wishes to celebrate?"
She folds her hands in front of her and sighs. "I've told him it may be better to wait, but he is insistent. And we both know, whatever your father asks, your father receives."
"When?" I ask. "Surely he wishes to wait until Jasper is well enough to attend?"
"He wishes to hold it in a month's time." She turns back to Edward. "That will be long enough for you to gain back some of your strength. Your father believes it will give the people a reason to put their confidence in you and your men. I can only hope that in a month your cousin will be able to attend."
He nods once. "I understand."
"Very well," she says, straightening her back. "I shall leave you, then. I only wanted to share your father's wishes with you." She begins to walk toward the door, but I stop her.
"Mother?" She turns to me. "How is Jasper? I've not been able to inquire about him since you and I last spoke."
She smiles sadly. "He is awake." She takes a deep breath. "And in truth, I believe he wishes he were not," she says softly before turning and walking from the room.
When I look back to my husband, he is staring straight ahead into the flames. "Edward?"
"Alice is waiting at her husband's bedside, wondering if he will ever recover." His voice is a low rumble in the quiet of the room. He looks up at me. "She must hate me."
I lower myself back to my knees and take his hands. "She does not."
"How can you know that?"
"Because every one of the men who marches beside you knows of the risks, and the women they leave behind do as well. I for one will forever be grateful for all of their sacrifices. I think even your sister would agree that those who gave their lives, those who gave so much of themselves, their sacrifices were worth it to bring you home. I will never be able to show enough gratitude to Jasper or any of the other men who risked their lives to save yours. I will spend the rest of my life doing what I can to repay him, repay all of them, but I fear I will never be able to." I squeeze his hands. "But perhaps the greatest repayment to your sister, to your cousin, is to grow stronger every day. Show him his sacrifice was not for nothing. Be the leader your people need and lead your men into battle to fight against the men who want to see harm befall us."
He smiles. "You have changed in the months I've been away."
"I have?" I ask, surprised.
He nods. "You have. The girl I left was intelligent and witty, self-sacrificing, even. But the woman I have returned to is so much stronger than that girl." He brings my knuckles to his lips. "It will be an honor to have you by my side."
I finish placing the covering cloths over the poultice, smoothing them over Edward's back so he might rest more comfortably, and help him into a loose-fitting shirt. Edward turns and lies back into the bedding and his eyes close.
"Do you wish me to leave?" I ask softly.
His eyes open and his brow furrows. "Why would I wish you to leave?"
"I thought you may want some privacy. After all, we've spent the entire day in one another's company. Perhaps you've grown tired of me and wish for some time to yourself."
"You must not realize last night was the best night's sleep I've had in months." He holds out a hand to me, inviting me to his bed. "Come now. I'm growing impatient, and I wish to sleep."
I laugh lightly. "If I'm to join you, I need to change into my sleeping shift, Edward."
Although weary, his gaze is full of mischief. "Why wear one at all?"
My eyes widen and my mouth opens in surprise. I have forgotten how forthright he can be. In truth, though, I have missed it. But as I look closer, I can see just how very tired he is. His expression may be mischievous, but I can see the few events of the day have taken a toll on him.
"What? I've seen you out of your shift, Isabella." His eyes close as his head tilts back, his tired smile widening. "Perhaps it would help me feel better to hold your warm, bare body in my arms all night."
I smile at his sudden playfulness. "Oh, would it?"
He nods, his grin still in place. "I believe it would."
I swallow down my nerves, reminding myself he is right; he has seen me in nothing. But in the months we have spent apart, my body has changed. Where I was once flat and smooth, I am now round and full.
His hand hangs in midair, and he notices my hesitation. His eyes open. "What is it? You slept in my bed just last night. What has changed from then till now?"
"Firstly, I fell asleep wearing my dress." I lower my eyes and look down at my swollen abdomen. "But it's more than that. I'm different," I whisper.
"Different from just last night?"
I shake my head. "No, different from the last time you saw me in less than my shift."
"And you grow more beautiful with every passing moment."
My head pops up, and I meet his earnest gaze.
"Please, I am tired, and I wish to sleep, Isabella. If you're truly uncomfortable removing your dress in my presence, leave it on for all I care. But I do want you to stay. I was being absolutely truthful when I said last night was the best sleep I've had in months."
I nod once and step back from the bed. "I just need a moment," I say quietly. "I will need Angela's help with the laces."
I turn to leave through the passage, and the clearing of his throat precedes his calling out to me.
"May I help you?" His voice is rough, deep, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
"If you do not mind," I reply, looking back at him over my shoulder. I walk slowly back to his side as he moves to sit up in his bed, moving his legs to sit on the edge of the mattress.
I turn my back to him and gather my hair over my shoulder. His roughened fingers move softly along the top edge of my dress, his touch causing gooseflesh to break out on my skin.
"It has been a long time since I've had the pleasure of loosening your laces," he says as his fingertips brush across my skin, his voice a low rumble. He trails a single finger up the back of my neck and into my hair, only to move it slowly back down, coming to rest on the topmost lace in my dress. "I'd forgotten how soft you were right here." He leans forward, and the warmth of his ghosting breath blows across my skin just before he places a soft kiss at the base of my neck. "I only regret I am not yet able to enjoy you the way I once did."
My heart races, and my skin warms at his words. "Soon," I whisper.
"Soon," he repeats.
With slow and careful movements, he pulls loose the laces at my back, and with shaky hands, I untie the ones at my front. The woolen fabric begins to loosen at my shoulders.
"I should be able to step out of it," I say quietly.
His hands leave me, and I immediately feel the loss of his touch. I push the relaxed fabric over my shoulders and pull it down—past my breasts and over the swell of my belly, past my hips—allowing it to fall to the floor. I step out of it, and I am left standing in only my chemise.
I take a deep breath and blow it out before pulling the ties holding together my shift. With little effort, it slips over my shoulders and pools at my feet.
My heart pounds in my chest as I turn around. I do not know what I expect to see when I face my husband, but it surely isn't his piercing eyes staring straight into mine.
"So beautiful," he says so softly I almost do not hear him.
His gaze travels over my form, and I feel the overwhelming urge to cover myself, but he once told me to never do that. So, I stand and abide the several moments of his scrutinizing gaze.
"Come," he finally says, his voice rough. He reaches out a hand to me. "It has been a long day, and we both need our rest."
I do as he asks and allow him to help me climb up into the bed, and he immediately pulls me into his arms. Instead of being met with the wandering hands I expect, he merely holds me. The warmth of his embrace spreads through me, and just before I fall asleep, he slips a hand down to cover the child that rests between us.
Each day that passes brings Edward more strength. His wounds begin to heal and fade, and we stop applying the horrid smelling poultice. After another week of rest, Elder Afton and the healer agree Edward is well enough to leave his bedchamber. It leads to many days spent in his sitting room.
Edward plays a game—a patterned board with ornately carved pieces that move from one side to the other—while I concentrate on stitching small dresses for our child. It is in the quiet moments when he believes no one to be looking when I study him.
The color is beginning to return to his cheeks, and with each meal, it seems, his once severely gaunt face fills in. He grows healthier and stronger each day.
King Carlisle and his advisors make daily visits, and I excuse myself each time. I know there is much to discuss, to plan, regarding the upcoming battle that is looming in the not too distant future, and there is much strategizing that needs to take place.
I know better than to ask to be present.
"Has he decided if you are to wait here or if you will march on Adwen?" I ask. We sit before the fire, quietly discussing what the king shared with him just this afternoon, as we do nearly every day.
"I am of the opinion it is best to allow them to come to us. It gives us several advantages. First, this is our land. Our men are familiar with it. Even the visiting armies who have agreed to help us know this land better than the Rheman army."
"So, the others have chosen to stay and fight with you?"
"They have. With them, we will better match Rhema's numbers. And given the advantages of fighting at home, we may sway the odds in our favor. It also makes sense to allow them to travel to us. They will use resources to reach us, resources they need, given the state of Adwen when we left there. They cannot possibly have much in the way of supplies. Especially after winter. And that is another advantage. Them coming to us means they will wait until winter passes to make the journey over the mountains. It gives us more time. Time to plan, time to grow stronger and train more soldiers. It is time we need. I am also hoping with time I will have my cousin back in the ranks."
"But he will never be able to fight beside you again," I say softly.
"No, he will not. But he has one of the sharpest minds I have ever known, and his knowledge and strategy will be invaluable in battle."
News came just days ago that Jasper's sword arm is practically useless, and if he heals, he will also walk with a limp. Both his arm and his leg were severely injured in his fight to rescue Edward. The fact that he has survived the infection that set in on their journey home is a miracle.
I am not sure Jasper feels the same.
Winter rages outside. The mild days we had when Edward and his men returned are long gone. Weeks have passed, and my husband is beginning to resemble the man he was so many months ago. Regular meals, rest, and quiet peace all seem to be making a marked improvement on him. With daily walks and occasional sparring with Emmett, he is gaining back some of the strength he lost during his time away.
I continue to sleep in his bed each night, held tightly in his arms, but we have yet to come together as man and wife since his return. I try to tell myself it is not me, that he is still healing, still regaining his strength, but doubts linger. It is not as if he is spending his time with another woman, or he even has the fortitude to bed another in his current state, as we spend nearly all our time together. But still, I worry.
Today we are walking through the corridors of the castle at a slow and leisurely pace. Side by side, we stop every now and again to admire some tapestry or painting, Edward doing his best to tell me of its history. A particularly vibrant canvas grabs my attention as we pass it.
"That is simply beautiful," I say as I stare up at it. Vibrant shades of purple and yellow color a field of green under a blue sky. "It reminds me of—"
"The meadow where I asked you to be my bride. Yes, I know." He points to the painting. "It was the memory of this that struck me when we passed by that patch of land on our journey to Adwen. It was as if the Gods were trying to tell me my fate lay ahead of me."
I turn to him with a rueful smile on my face. "And what a fate it has been, has it not? If not for your journey to Adwen, you would never—"
He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, silencing me. "I would never have met you, and that simply is not an option."
I smile and lower my gaze to our path as we begin our slow trek back to his quarters.
When we reach the corridor leading to our chambers, King Carlisle is walking in our direction, heading for Edward's door.
"Father?" my husband calls out, alerting the king to our presence.
"Oh, Edward. I was just coming to see you." He looks to me and then back to his son. "Perhaps we could have a word in private."
"Yes, of course." He turns to me. "Isabella, I—"
"I will wait in my rooms until you are ready to see me." I turn to the king and give a small curtsy, excusing myself.
Hours seem to pass, and I begin to worry. I ask Angela to see if Edward is still speaking with his father.
"The servants say he has been sitting and staring into the fire since his father left," Angela says.
"And when did he leave?"
"Quite some time ago, My Lady."
What was mild concern changes to worry as I wonder what Carlisle could have said to so obviously upset Edward. No longer able to endure the waiting, I go through the passage between our chambers.
When I reach Edward's bedchamber, he is not there, so I step lightly toward his sitting room. He is seated before the fire, just as Angela said he would be. His expression is contemplative, his brow furrowed.
"Edward?" I whisper, anxious for him to speak, but also not eager to disturb him.
"Hmm," he hums, not turning his gaze from the flames.
"Is everything well? Did your father have news? Is Jasper well?"
"He is well," he replies, his voice gruff. "And my father needed to discuss some concerns he has."
I step closer to his side. "Do you wish to discuss it with me?" I ask carefully.
He reaches out a hand to me, and I gladly take it.
He pulls me into his lap and holds me in his arms. "I want to, but I also do not wish to upset you." He places a kiss to my temple and says nothing more.
His reluctance to tell me is obvious, and it is troubling. He has shared so much with me in recent weeks.
"Should I be concerned?" I ask warily.
"No, I do not believe so."
"Then why do you believe it is something that would upset me?"
He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine. The sharp green that usually greets me is cloudy—full of emotions I do not recognize. The stormy look in his eyes and his hesitance to tell me causes a knot to form in my stomach. He inhales a breath, and when he speaks, I almost wish he had not.
"My father seems to be of the opinion that our union may not be what our kingdom needs."
A/N: Aaahh! Another 'sort of' cliffie! Should I be taking cover? Lol. So, I'd say a fair number of you don't care much for Carlisle. ;) I'd love to hear your thoughts.
No recs this week. I'm in crazy mom mode getting my house ready for company later this week. To those of you who celebrate it, I wish you a happy Thanksgiving. And just a heads up ... Friday's update may be later in the day. The Sunshine crew goes Black Friday shopping, so all I can say is the next chapter will post on Friday, I just don't know when on Friday. ;)
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~Sunshine