Page 10 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“That’s what he’s paid for,” Wrexham groused, folding his arms.

“He is not paid to be abused,” she objected. “And he is only concerned with your comfort. You might thank him, at least.”

“I dislike being babied.”

There was an underlying current of frustration to the words that illustrated the truth of this quite wonderfully.

“Then stop acting like one,” Emmeline retorted, wondering how she dared.

Who was she to scold him? She hadn’t the first idea of how difficult life must be for Wrexham. Facing things that had once been so simple and had now become so dreadfully difficult must make him wild with impatience. She braced herself for a severe set down, but it never came.

Emmeline glanced sideways at him to find his head turned her way, his expression thoughtful.

“Tell me about yourself.”

She glared at him, which was pointless but made her feel better. “Oh, really. Now? I’m so befuddled I can hardly walk in a straight line, let alone converse. I was thinking I might try to nap.”

“I know. You’re getting delightfully snippy. Which is why it is the perfect time. You’ll be more candid with me if you’re impatient and out of sorts.”

“Well, how ungentlemanly!” she exclaimed. “And did you not promise to take care of me?”

He turned more fully towards her, his hand reaching out and exploring her lap until he found hers. The bold move so startled her that she gasped. Wrexham flashed a wicked grin and grasped her hand, tugging it towards him and holding it between his, upon his thigh.

“I shall take the greatest care of you, Miss Milly. And I promise you may lay your head on my shoulder and nap to your heart’s content. Just speak to me for a moment. Please. I cannot sleep when the world around me changes so rapidly. It is too… disorientating and—”

“It must be terrifying,” she said, before she could think better of it.

He stiffened, and she squeezed his fingers, still scandalised by her hand resting so close to his thigh. “I only think of how I might feel. Perhaps it is different for you, but the idea of being out in the world and unable to see makes me feel vulnerable and like I want to curl up in a little ball, but you are far braver than that. I know you are.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m not, though.”

The stark admission made her heart hurt, knowing how it must stab at his pride to admit he was afraid.

“Yes, you are. You’re here, Wrexham.”

He gave a soft huff of laughter. “You’ll manage me admirably, love. A clever combination of scolding and butter boat. Well done.”

“As if anyone could manage you!” she retorted, disliking the faintly mocking tone she’d heard behind the comment. “No wonder Humboldt looks so worn to a thread if you seize on any compliment and turn it into an insult, or any show of care into fussing. Don’t think you’ll have me dancing to your tune, for I shan’t. I gave you an honest compliment, expressing my admiration for you and I get sly remarks in return. Thank you very much.”

She tugged her hand free, but he caught hold of it again and held on tight. “No,” he said, frowning. “Forgive me. It seems you are not the only one feeling snippy.”

“Well, and you have every right to be,” she relented, pleased by his apology and the proof that he was not entirely without manners. “It’s been a trying day.”

“And I ought to let you sleep,” he added with a sigh.

“It might be for the best,” Emmeline said wryly. “Humboldt has placed your cane within my reach. I might use it if you provoke me again.”

“You do remember you’re supposed to be keeping me alive?” he replied, one eyebrow lifting.

She knew he meant for her to laugh at the remark, but it was too awful a reminder of his predicament, so her words were soft and heartfelt. “I remember.”

Once again she was struck by the sense of him listening intently, as if he was trying desperately to decipher her expression and interpret her words more precisely.

“Go to sleep, Miss Milly. We’ve a long way to go yet.”

Emmeline felt her heart tremble at the truth of that statement, though it was not the distance they needed to travel that worried her. She was to make her life with this man, and she did not know what to expect of him. Still, she laid her head on his shoulder as he had invited her to do, beguiled by the scent that drifted from his fine wool coat. He smelled of something newly green, the woody scent of freshly cut oak, and with an unusual hint of something floral. It was as extravagant and surprising as the man himself, and Emmeline drifted to sleep, dreaming of woodlands and wild, rambling roses.