Bound To Bea

Chapter Forty Three

A soft moan drifted from Beatrice's lips as she tore her eyelids apart, her blurry vision giving way to the dimly lit room. Uncomfortable, she shoved the covers down her legs and wiped her brows with her sleeves, only stopping short when she realized what stained her palm; sweat!

She gasped, jerking upright and staring at her wet palm. After over three weeks of incessant pain, her fever had finally broken.

Turning to the side, she was unsurprised to find Noah asleep beside her. They had shared a room since the night of the accident, and while she hated the idea of inconveniencing him with her presence and illness, she reminded herself severally that she was his wife. Surely there were couples who shared a bed not only for conjugal purposes, and there were certainly couples who cared for one another when the other was ill... Unless, of course, she married an exceptional man; which she did.

For several days, she watched Noah nurse her back to health; diligently, patiently, lovingly. The weeks of having him care for her solidified her knowledge of his love. Now, she was fully acquainted with his love; she knew it, felt it and believed it.

And she loved him, she thought, a smile creeping up her face as she leaned down and kissed his lips. He sighed in response, his eyelids tearing apart slightly. She ran her hand down his stubbles and buried her fingers in his hair, awakening him fully.

"Bea..." he murmured.

Sighing, she settled beside him once more and gazed into his eyes. "Noah," she breathed.

"Why are you awake?" He touched her face, his brows pulling together in a frown. "Can't sleep? Do you need something? How's the pain?" His pitch rose with every question, weariness expelling his fatigue as he rose to a sitting position and turned fully to her.

She shook her head. "I'm sweating."

"You are..." His frown deepened with confusion. Then, as if realizing what she meant, he gasped. "You are!" He touched her forehead, gasping once he saw her sweat.

She nodded. "Yes," she giggled.

"Is that all?" He lay beside her once more, the powerful scent of his cologne intoxicating her as muscular arms circled her waist and pulled her against an equally muscular chest.

She kissed his chest. "The headache is not as bad, and I dare say my appetite has returned."

"You're hungry?" He glanced down at her.

"I'm famished. I look forward to breakfasting in the morning."

"You shall not wait until breakfast," he declared, releasing her and scrambling out of bed. She sat upright, her lips falling apart in disbelief as she watched him stagger to the bellpull and tug on it.

"Noah!" she gasped, turning to look out the window; it was indeed the middle of the night. "It's the middle of the night!" she called, more to stop him as she watched him pull on the string once more.

"It is," he said, tugging the string again.

"It is madness to awaken the staff in the middle of the night!"

He ignored her and kept tugging on the string until a soft knock sounded on the door moments later. Tightening her grip on the sheets as guilt washed over her, Beatrice sank further into the bed as she watched Noah cross the room to the door. He stood before it for several seconds, murmuring to someone she suspected was Richardson—a highly unhappy butler, no doubt. He closed the door moments later and returned to her side.

He pulled her into his embrace. "What is madness is letting my wife starve," he whispered.

"I could have managed until morning," she lied, knowing it would have been nearly impossible to do so given her excruciating hunger.