Page 25 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

Andrew’s hand moved to where she supported William’s weight. “Come,” he murmured, absurdly gentle for a man of such sternness. “You must be tired, and he will sleep alone now. You have done all you came here to do.”

Jessamine blinked, but she finally allowed Andrew to guide her to the crib, and she carefully, oh so slowly, placed William within it. He stirred, tiny fists bunched, but then fell still and silent once more.

Jessamine released a slow breath of relief. They had done it. Somehow, they had triumphed. The translucent light of distant sunrise sliced the sky, and William was asleep.

“You are exhausted,” Andrew said. “Let me watch over him, Jessamine. Go to sleep.”

“I’m perfectly well, thank you. I will stay here.” She sank into the chair, wincing as she did so. Her back ached terribly.

“Forgive me for not believing you,” he said dryly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“In that case, stand up and walk to me and assure me that is the case.”

Jessamine glowered at him. Now, she was sitting, she was not at all sure she could stand again without considerable pain, and if she showed any sign of it, he would consider himself vindicated.

“Well?” he prompted. “I’m waiting.”

Jessamine scowled, but attempted to rise before promptly gripping the back of the chair to support her. She hissed a breath through her teeth.

Andrew sighed. “As I thought.” He approached, but Jessamine shrank back. “It’s all right,” he said, his voice reassuring, soothing. The same way he had spoken to William during the height of his fever. “I only want to help.”

Jessamine still hesitated, wary, and he held up both hands as though in surrender.

“All right,” he said. “Keep suffering.”

She bit her lip. He had been in the army, and his men had by his own account, suffered from a number of ailments. She doubted he had been their first port of call, but it was entirely possible he had more experience than she did.

“My back hurts,” she admitted eventually. “I presume from carrying William, and…”

“Yes, I thought so.” His gaze crossed her face. “Turn around.”

Jessamine hesitated again, reluctant to put her back to him, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. They had behaved as a team all that night. But she couldn’t forget the way he had first approached her for this marriage, and the way he had insisted on being a part of William’s wife without considering her feelings on the matter.

Now, she appreciated, perhaps for the first time, that William might be better off with the two of them working together.

“I only want to help,” he said again.

Slowly, Jessamine turned, and Andrew approached, a hulking figure from behind. She stiffened, but he merely put his hands on her shoulders.

“Where does it hurt?”

“There,” she said. “And around my neck. And… lower.” She ached down to the small of her back, and even further than that.

Andrew’s thumbs dug into the muscle, and she let out a stifled groan of surprise. He stopped. “Does that hurt?”

“No, it was… It was nice.”

He resumed the motions, his fingers massaging the soreness from her. When he had worked the muscle around the base of her neck, he made his way down, rubbing the heel of his hands along the muscles of her side until he finally reached the small of her back.

“Here,” he said, his voice low. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it sounded more gravelly than usual. “Is this where you need me?”

Without thinking of the phrasing, she said, “Yes.”

Andrew took hold of either side of her waist and pressed his thumbs into the muscle above her hips, rubbing slow circles. “How about this?” he asked, the thickness in his voice more evident now.

Jessamine realized she had braced herself against the chair, holding herself up, pressing her backside toward him. She straightened, flushing.