“Luke! Wake up!” Mindful of the baby, Naomi lowered herself onto the edge of the bed in an effort to still him. He was shivering and covered in sweat. “Luke!” she shouted louder, half-afraid he’d knock her from the bed in his panic. He opened his eyes finally, staring at her in confusion. And fear. There was fear there.
“You’re having a nightmare. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, his jaw, his hair. When she rubbed her fingertips along his brow, he blinked a few times and then finally seemed to come back to her. As she stroked her fingers through his hair, whatever hell he’d been caught up in faded away and his muscles relaxed.
He shook his head and, rather than allow himself a moment, pushed himself forward so that he was sitting up. “My apologies.” His voice came out gravelly.
“Don’t move.” Naomi rushed back to her own chamber, poured a glass of water from the pitcher, and then quickly returned to his side. “Here.” She shoved the drink into his hands.
Touching him now, confusion that had plagued her for days now was replaced with excitement but also belonging. She’d felt this before. The day they’d met—when she’d danced with him—when he’d assisted her off the dock and onto that little boat.
And then Arthur had come along and Luke had all but disappeared…
Because Arthur had lied to him.
Everything was different now. Luke was different. She was different.
And Arthur was gone.
She recognized this for what it was: a connection between two souls.
The realization shouldn’t have made sense, and yet, it did.
He lifted the drink, swallowed, and when he lowered it again, stared into the bottom of the glass. “I’m sorry I woke you.” He rubbed one hand down his face. “I didn’t take a moment to think I might have one here.”
“You mentioned once that you don’t sleep well. Is it because of the nightmares?”
“Yes.”
“And the nightmares are from battles.”
“Yes.”
It was obvious by his terse answers that this wasn’t something he wished to discuss.
“Is Arthur ever in your dreams?”
He dropped his lashes. The shadows from the moonlight made them appear even longer and thicker than usual. He exhaled a shaky breath. “Sometimes. Yes. More lately.” He was talking to her, but Luke didn’t sound at all like himself. Naomi lifted her bare feet off the floor and scooted across the bed so that she was sitting beside him.
And then she simply waited.
“It wasn’t as bad in the beginning,” he offered into the silence.
She took hold of his hand. How many times had he comforted her?
His other arm swiped across his face. “I just want to sleep. One night without seeing them.” His words broke her heart.
“Perhaps they’ll fade once you’ve sold your commission—if you can put it in the past.”
“Yes. I can only hope. But I don’t know. Damn, I still need to speak with Blackheart. New orders will come through any time.” He turned his head and grimaced. Because he could likely guess her feelings regarding his return to combat. A soldier could never promise that he would return. He could only offer a promise to keep vigilant. She’d learned this the hard way.
Naomi yawned, and Luke slid his arm around her. “You deserve so much better than this.”
“Better than Arthur?” Because that would be the logical assumption as to his meaning. “Or better than to fall for another soldier? Better than to fall for you?” She’d not pretend. Life was too short to pretend she didn’t have feelings for him—to pretend that it wouldn’t break her heart all over again when he inevitably left. She turned and raised her other hand to his chest, snuggling closer to him.
“All of it.” His voice caught.
He stilled her hand with his and the rejection from earlier nearly had her climbing off his bed to return to her own. But he was squeezing her hand and moved it to cover his heart.
“When Ester returns, I’ll depart for Sussex—I shall summon this courage I supposedly possess and have the conversations I’ve been putting off. And then I’ll ship out for one last mission.
Naomi nodded, tamping down the panic at his words.
“But after—Naomi—after I’ve met my obligations, I’ll come back for you.” Warm lips touched the back of her hand. “I’ll come back when you are truly free. You’ll have had time to come to terms with all of this, the baby, Arthur’s betrayal. And then we will have our chance.”
We will have our chance. At love?
He must feel at least something close to the same as she did. “I’ll miss you.”
“But you will reconcile with your family—and you will meet Arthur’s mother and brother. I’ve known Lady Tempest longer than I knew my parents. She is not a bad person. She is going to want to see her grandchild. She is going to want to know her.”
The realization that she was going to have to take up her life without him was a chilling one.
His implication was that he’d be gone nearly a year. She’d observe a proper mourning period all the while praying for Luke’s safe return.
“Are you making plans for us, Major Cockfield?” She would tease him tonight. She would pretend he meant it.
“I am. If you’ll allow it.” Somehow, the two of them had slid down the headboard and were laying side by side, sharing a pillow but staring up into the darkness.
She’d never had this sort of intimacy with Arthur. With Arthur, she’d often lain awake in bed feeling distant, anxiously wondering what he was thinking, what he was feeling. After asking a few times and having her questions dismissed, she’d ceased making the effort.
She pushed thoughts of him out of her mind. If she was only to have a few days more with Luke, she would make the most of them. She was not fool enough to deny the possibility that he would change his mind while they were apart. People fell in and out of love all the time. Arthur had.
As had she.
“I won’t,” he growled. “I won’t change my mind if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“But you can’t promise something won’t happen to you.”
“No. I can’t. The sooner I speak with my commander at the War Office, the better, but I don’t want to do that until I’ve met with my brother.”
“Your brother’s opinion matters greatly to you.” As did her sister’s. The thought sent a pang of sadness through Naomi, knowing Theo would never barge into her room in the morning again to wake her, nor would her mother be present to encourage her when the baby was ready to be born.
She even missed her father, for all his overbearing decisions. She was beginning to suspect he’d been right in his assessment of Arthur, after all.
“My brother…” Luke paused as though to consider his words. “Not many understand him. Our parents were killed in a fire while Blackheart and I were away at school. Servants barely managed to save my sisters, who were four at the time, and Blackheart… he always believed he should have been there. There was no funeral, the bodies were never recovered, and so rather than allow me to return home with him, he insisted I finish my schooling while he dealt with the solicitors and the care of Lucinda and Lydia. While he dealt with everything.”