"No respect for the dead." His words came out in silent whispers, his teeth clenched.
A small smile tugged on her lips. "Respect is earned in life, my lord. When a man fails to earn respect in life, it cannot suddenly be bestowed on him simply becau...
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Staring at the door, Beatrice prayed for Camden's return, and clutching the sheets tightly, she feared she might go to him if he didn't come to her. She still felt the warmth of his lips pressed to her neck, where her heart still pounded wildly in her chest like a caged animal desperate for release. Her skin still burned from the feel of his body pressed to hers. She still panted for his touch.
It was several more hours before she fell asleep to the sound of her pounding heart. When she awakened the next morning, a maid was filling a tub with hot water.
She pushed herself to a sitting position, pain rewarding her action. She groaned, gaining the attention of the maid, who raised her head sharply, a small frown creasing her youthful face.
"Forgive me, my lady. I didn't wish to wake you up," she apologized, curtseying.
Beatrice nodded, pushing the sheets aside to glance down at her foot. The gauze fabric was stained with blood from the evening before, but the wound appeared to have stopped bleeding.
"My lord also wanted me to look at that before the physician arrives." The maid motioned to Beatrice's foot, placing the kettle on the table, before crossing the room. She leaned down, tendrils of brown hair falling to her face as she untied the gauze. "This is a deep cut, my lady." She winced, kneeling as she studied the wound. "It might be awhile before you are back on your feet again."
Beatrice frowned, unhappy with the news. If her injury was as bad as the maid described, she didn't put it past Noah to insist that she remained in Camden until she was well enough to walk, when for the life of her, she needed to return to London. She needed to be away from Camden and the strange desires he created in her.
"How long?" she asked.
The maid shrugged, her brown eyes shifting to Beatrice. "Perhaps a week or two."
Beatrice released an exasperated sigh. Two weeks! She didn't know if she could endure two more weeks under Camden's roof without surrendering to her desires.
"Very well." She nodded, silently praying the maid was wrong and that she would be fine by the next morning.
The same maid—Regina—showed up every morning to see about Beatrice's needs for the day. Beatrice learned through Regina that Camden had assigned her to Beatrice for the duration of her stay in his home. It was Regina's job to bathe, feed and help Beatrice move from one part of the room to the other. Regina's petite frame easily translated to an inability to carry Beatrice out of her bedchamber, forcing her to remain confined to her room for an entire week, until Beatrice feared the solitude would drive her insane.
Perhaps it wasn't the solitude that threatened her sanity, perhaps it was Camden's absence—perhaps it was the nagging voice in her head that told her he was avoiding her; perhaps it was the pain that accompanied the thought of it being true. She hated how much she longed to see him, and while it had only been a week of his absence, it felt like an eternity.
