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Molly.
Her scent surrounded him, just as it had during his megrim. Usually, smells were one more painful sensation to bear in addition to noise and light, but hers brought only comfort. That mix of lavender and something uniquely and recognizably her made him feel safe and at home. In a gentle cloud of her essence, he hadn’t been alone, not even when he’d yielded to unconsciousness at last.
Frederick knew that soon enough, he’d face the reckoning of his failed courtship; for just a moment, he lay awash in the last splendid memories from yesterday. Molly had glowed holding the asters to her chest. It may have just been once, but he’d pleased her.
Already half-hard upon wakening, his cock swelled more fully against his trousers as he remembered her pink cheeks and softly rising breasts behind the asters. It was still pitch-black outside the window; beyond his own increasingly hitched breath, the house was quiet. He’d slept through the afternoon and night.
Only for a moment, he promised himself, trailing his fingertips over the fully stiff protrusion between his hips. Gentle at first, his touch deepened as he imagined Molly lifting her lips to his. Her slender neck, long a subject of fascination, beckoned to his mouth. He wanted to cup her small breasts through her—
A creak sounded on the floorboards outside the room, and his hand jolted away from his body.Mein Gott, here he was a guest in this fine home—fondling his wayward cock while imagining himself groping poor Molly!
He strained to hear past his own ragged breathing; light footsteps passed the doorway and continued down the hall. He relaxed into the mattress once more—for just another moment. He could hardly rise now—not with the crotch of his pants so risen.
Frederick sat up gingerly, almost dizzy with relief when the movement produced no discomfort. The megrims were a curse, but they instilled in him a deep gratitude for his otherwise good health. Whenever he emerged from the fog, it was nothing short of exhilarating to see clearly again and to breathe without pain.
He sighed as his feet found the floor, knowing precisely what would serve as the antidote for his body’s desire. After weeks of indulging in fantasy, it was time to confront reality. He couldn’t be a proper husband—not when he was subject to debilitation at any time.
Molly valued asters for their hardiness; she believed herself to be like them, he could tell. The comparison was apt—as fragile as she could appear, she was undoubtedly a strong and resourceful woman.
How could she accept a man so susceptible to weakness that he’d needed to be put to bed like a child? So feeble that he’d appeared for a task only to disappear for the day?
Frederick shook his head. Yesterday’s events had undoubtedly doused whatever affection Molly had developed toward him—and it was for the best, he told himself. Indulging any notion otherwise wasn’t only utter folly, it was irresponsible.
I can never risk passing this madness to children.
Before standing, he smoothed a hand over the mattress to bid farewell to the intimacy of being this close to Molly.
When he entered the back stairway that led to the basement, the first rays of sun glowed outside the windows, and his arousal was as dormant as his dream of sweeping Molly off her feet.
Or so I thought.
His breath caught in his throat when he came upon her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped up in a thick shawl. Behind her, the cook was checking the fire in the oven, its glow illuminating the wisps that had escaped from Molly’s night plait, forming a halo.
“Oh!” She searched his face before smiling. “You look well, thank God!”
“You look beautiful,” said Frederick in an awe-struck voice.
The utterance appeared to surprise them both.
“I mean, I must go.”
She blinked, frowning. “Oh, no, not before breaking your fast! Why, you retired yesterday before—”
“Surely I couldn’t inconvenience the household further.”
“Fiddlesticks, Frederick! It’s no inconvenience,” she insisted firmly.
He huffed out a laugh at her unexpected response. Despite her tone, her soft brown eyes looked so hopeful, he wavered.Perhaps I can put off disappointing her further.
“Cook has just taken out the first loaves of bread. It’s early yet; with few up, we may eat quietly.” She graced him with the most mischievous smile he’d ever seen on her lips. “As you’re a special guest, I’ll fetch the crock of marmalade, made from fruit grown in Lady Clara’s orangery.”
The scent of warm bread filled the air, making his mouth water indeed, yet it was Molly’s favor and the promise of her company that lured him into nodding. “Very well, thank you.” He couldn’t avoid the subject any longer. “I also thank you for yesterday. I apologize most heartily for the unpleasantness. I shall never forget your kindness.”
“Think nothing of it, Frederick! I’m only sorry that you fell ill. What wretchedness a megrim brings.”
He tilted his head, the understanding in her voice sounding personal. He blinked, recalling how careful and quiet she’d been during his episode. “Are you afflicted with them as well?”
She shook her head. “My sister Meg. She used to have them terribly.”
