She obeyed instantly. She threw her arms around him and held him tight. “I won’t let you go. You’ve done nothing to deserve this.”
“My hope is to live to see my son born,” Neal said.
She couldn’t bear thinking of his death. She denied it by kissing him. Their kiss grew heated, and Neal’s right hand drew her into his lap. Hisleft arm came around her. The paralysis was gone—for now—and she silently vowed her love would keep it at bay.
He was hard for her. She remembered that first night, with its frenzied passion. She began unbuttoning his breeches. He needed this. She needed it.
Slowly he entered her. How she loved this man, and loved making love to him. He was the center of her world, and she told him with her body how much he meant to her.
They took their time. He kept smoothing his hand over the curve of her hip and across her slightly rounded belly.
What would she tell this son about his father? Or would it be necessary? Would not Jonathan and Christopher share their stories? Oh, yes, they would. Neither she nor her sons would let the memory of this wonderful man die.
Sweet, wondrous love. Once again, he took her to the very heights of pleasure. Every time he made love to her, he claimed more of her soul.
She could not let him go. She wouldn’t.
“We will fight this,” Thea vowed.
Neal’s answer was a sleepy, lazy smile.
He had given up. He’d accepted.
But she wouldn’t.
The heart is a shield.
Thea woke with Neal’s words in her mind.
Well, if they were true, then she needed to find a sword to go with her shield.
She waited until Neal left the house on business before she knocked on Harry’s door. Rowan answered. “Please have the colonel up and downstairs in half an hour.”
“That will be a challenge, my lady.”
“Is he not here?” she wondered.
“He is ... but he drank port last night.”
Thea felt her patience snap. She had a war to wage, and she needed all the help she could muster. “Have him up.”
She made the same request of Margaret.
Within the hour, she was pleased when both Harry and Margaret joined her in the breakfast room. Harry slumped into a chair and placed his head facedown on the table. Margaret gave her brother a look of disgust.
Thea said, “Neal is dying. It has started.”
Now she’d captured their attention. Harry’s head came up.
“How do you know?” Margaret asked.
“His left arm occasionally has bouts of paralysis,” Thea said. “He says that is how it starts. Iwant you to knowI am not giving up.” She jabbed the table with her finger to emphasize her words.
“He’s not the one who should die. I should die,” Harry muttered. “Why doesn’t the curse take me instead?”
“Because you are too soused to fall in love,” Margaret said without pity.
Her brother glared at her. She glared back and then said, “Be honest, Harry. You are too selfish to love, and I’m too difficult.” She turned to Thea. “What do you think we should do?”
