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"Look, Oliver," George murmured softly, his voice rich with affection as he guided the child's small body forward. "Your mother is here. She is resting, but she is safe."

Oliver, sensing the proximity of the woman who had nurtured him with devotion, extended his hand. His fingers reached out blindly, until he made contact with Helena's forefinger. Instantly, they curled tightly around her finger, holding on with a gentle grip.

George watched the beautiful sight, enveloping them both with his large hand from above. The three of them sat bound together, a true family united in the quiet sanctuary of the bedchamber.

Suddenly, Helena's forefinger twitched softly within Oliver's grasp. A faint gasp, delicate as a feather, parted her pale lips, and her head shifted slightly. George's heart leaped as he leaned forward, eyes fixed upon her face.

Slowly, Helena's dark eyelashes fluttered. She drew a deeper breath into her lungs, her brows knitting together. Then, with a trembling sigh, her eyelids lifted completely.

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Iam all right, my sweet boy..." Helena whispered softly, her voice raspy as she gently wiggled her forefinger in Oliver's tiny, warm grip. "Mama is here... I am all right."

Oliver cooed softly, his fretful whimpers ceasing instantly. He nestled deeper into the crook of George's arm, his thumb slipping into his mouth as the rhythm of his father's steady heartbeat lulled him into peaceful comfort.

George snapped down to meet her gaze, his eyes bright with unshed tears and raw emotion. He simply stared at her, hand tightening around hers, afraid she would slip away.

Helena offered him a reassuring smile, her thumb stroking his knuckles. She could read him clearly; the pause in his breaths, the shaky, unshed tears, the trembling lips and the tight grip. Despite the depths she drifted to, she had heard every word he said. Now, she could see into his heart, into the depths and behind the walls he had held up for so long.

He truly believed that by loving me, he would bring destruction upon my head. Oh, George... how could a man so brilliant and noble be so utterly blind to his own goodness?

Shaking her head slowly, Helena attempted to sit up against the bolster. The sudden movement pulled painfully at the stitches in her left shoulder.

"Argh!"

George reacted instantly, shifting forward in his chair. Placing his hand flat against her uninjured shoulder, he pressed her back down into the soft feather pillows.

"Stay where you are." he commanded, his voice thick with panic.

Helena rested her head back against the bolster, a faint smile touching her pale lips despite the throb in her shoulder.

"You do remember that I dislike being ordered about." she murmured softly. But I quite like it right now.

A smile touched George's mouth, softening the tortured lines around his jaw.

"You have been unconscious for hours. You are not moving." he declared, eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her chest ache with joy.

Helena laughed weakly, dissolving the edge of panic that had gripped the bedchamber. She reached up with her right hand, cupping the side of his jaw, feeling the prickle of his evening stubble. She felt him lean slightly into her touch, his eyes closing for a brief second as if drawing life from her skin.

"I heard you, George," Helena said softly, causing his eyes to snap open. "While I lay in the dark... I heard every word you spoke to me."

George froze. He opened his mouth, but Helena shook her head gently, cutting off his hesitation before he could speak.

"You should have told me." she whispered, her emerald-green eyes gazing into his with unconditional warmth.

George lowered his head slightly, his thumb tracing the delicate bones of her wrist.

"I know that now." he rasped, his voice rough with regret.

"You should have trusted me with the truth, with your feelings." she continued softly, her fingers caressing his cheekbone. "You spent so long convincing yourself that you were alone, that your heart was hardened to the world, when all you needed was someone to share the weight you were carrying."

George lifted his head, his eyes burning with sincerity that took her breath away.

"Scarce would you find a man who would trust a stranger as much as I trusted you that first day." he declared passionately, his deep voice filling the bedchamber. "When you stood in my study with Oliver in your arms, I gave you my home and the key to my family's legacy. I trusted you with Edward's heir, Helena. I trusted you with the very heart of this estate before I even understood the grace you possessed."

Helena felt a soft tear slip from the corner of her eye. It was true; despite his formidable reputation and cynical words, he had sheltered her from the cold judgment of society.

"But you should not have left." Helena said.