Rebecca woke slowly. Her skin was sticky, her cotton night rail stuck to her, and her legs were trapped beneath the bedclothes. She glanced over and gasped. For the second morning in a row, Sebastian lay beside her, his nose nestled on her shoulder. One arm trapped her torso and his leg covered hers. “Your Grace? What the devil are you about?” she hissed in breathless outrage. “Get off.”
He nuzzled her night rail from her shoulder and set his lips to her skin.
Again, she gasped, and he stilled beside her, slowly lifting his head. “What is this on your shoulder?”
“W-what?”
He sat up and lit a candle. “Your shoulder. There’s something there. Another scar?” He sounded outraged.
“None of which are your concern! Now, move.”
“Not until I get some answers. What happened?”
“Move,” she whispered, furious that her voice didn’t seem to be working as she intended. A threatening sting moved behind her eyes.
“How many more are there I should know about?” he demanded. “What happened to your temple?”
She gave up trying to push him away. It was a useless endeavor anyway. “I was hit with a rock. A boy was about to shoot a kitten with a handmade catapulting device. For sport. He shot me instead. I was ten. Are you satisfied?”
“Not quite, my lady. The wound on your shoulder?”
“Blast it, you are not my father!”
He didn’t budge. “I have all night,” he told her calmly.
“A couple of years later, the same boy was going after a newborn foal with a dagger. It was a fight. I won.”
“Not quite, you didn’t,” he said on a disgusted snort. “Your arm?”
“That’s enough,” she bit out. “I don’t owe you the slightest explanation. Call my maid if you please. I require her assistance.” She tried sitting but was too weak to affect such a demanding feat. This was a horrid mess to be in and the tears were gathering. She hated crying. It was the worst sort of weakness.
“Lady Rebecca?” Serena was at her side in an instant, appearing like an apparition.
“I need help, Serena. The chamber pot,” she said, determined to put Ryleigh at his most uncomfortable. He should not be sleeping alongside her.
Once inside the smaller room and Rebecca had taken care of her business, she turned to Serena. “How bad is it?”
“Um, what do you mean, milady?”
“I mean, why was the duke Sleeping. Next. To. Me?” She punctuated each word with a hiss.
“He refused to relinquish you to my care. I could hardly move him. Besides, he told me his intentions were honorable.”
“He what?”
Serena shrugged.
Rebecca stopped and faced her maid, her hands planted on her hips. She grew dizzy and put her hand on the wall to steady herself. “He just came out and told you that? For no reason whatsoever?”
Dark red spots highlighted her cheeks. “Well, I’ll admit I confronted him.”
“You confronted him?” Dear heavens, she was one of those tropical talking birds she’d read about.
“What was I to do, milady?” Serena shook her head. “And when Oxford’s duchess stormed her way in and saw him at your bedside—”
“Lady Parther saw him… and me?” Her voice resembled a squeaking mouse about to faint.
“I thought she was the Duchess of Oxford.”
Rebecca’s legs gave out and she fell back on the uncomfortable chair. “That woman is the most notorious gossip in England.” This was a disaster. “What did he tell her?”
“He told her in no uncertain terms to leave.”
“And did she?”
Serena grimaced. “Not right away. He did reprimand her for treating me disrespectfully. It was quite heroic.”
Wonderful news. Now she’d never get rid of him. At least, not with Serena’s help.
Sebastian stretched out on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. He couldn’t hear everything Rebecca was saying to her maid, a squeal here and there, dotted with outrage and shock. He grinned into the darkness until the image of those scars rushed him. He was halfway astonished she didn’t sport a bullet wound. He shuddered at the very idea.
Admittedly, her recent outrage reassured him. She sounded so… so normal he’d forgotten he wanted to shield her, protect her. Instead, he railed at her. As if she’d been hurt intentionally. He was an idiot.
He rolled to his stomach, groaning. The woman was a detriment to herself. Definitely not duchess material. Yet she was the most loyal person he’d ever met. Look at how she had defended his sister, saved that ridiculous dog, and the twins. Confronted their father. She jumped first and asked questions later, fearing nothing, fearing no one. God, how he wanted her.
But how was he supposed to safeguard someone who didn’t believe they needed safeguarding?