Page 46 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

A knock startled Graham from a deep sleep. He took a moment to reorient himself and register where he was and who was snuggled tightly to his side. Naked and soft. He couldn’t stop his grin. Something in Amelia had made her insatiable tonight. The sound did not occur again. It must have been part of a dream. Graham rolled to face Amelia.

Amelia. His wife.

He still couldn’t believe it. He felt like he was going back and forth between a dream and a nightmare. The nightmare was for Alston, suspended in a state of unconsciousness and never knowing from one minute to the next whether he would live or die. Graham knew the odds were not in their favor. But he never let Amelia hear these thoughts. She needed hope and reassurance, and he’d give it to her until the bitter end.

The dream, of course, was being married to Amelia.

She sighed in her sleep and rolled away from him. Graham tugged her close again, her back to his chest and her bottom nestled to his hardening length. He ran a hand over her hip, and she arched in her sleep. He kissed her neck, rubbing his nose in her hair and breathing deep the scent that was only Amelia. To think there was once a time when he didn’t want this. When he considered her and all her feverish antics a menace to society.

She might still be, but she was his menace.

“I love you,” he said, mouthing the words into her skin, and into her dreams.

The knock came again, and Graham tensed. The first knock hadn’t been part of some dream, then. He couldn’t see the clock, but the hour felt late, and if they were being interrupted, it had to be urgent. Graham eased out of bed and tugged on his trousers and shirt. His gut tightened as he approached the door. He paused, looking back at Amelia, still asleep. He rubbed the gritty sleep from his eyes and opened the door a crack. A maid stood there.

“What is it?”

“His lordship opened his eyes,” the maid said.

Graham’s heart skipped several beats. He opened the door wider, freezing on the threshold. Amelia, he had to wake Amelia.

“We’ll be there in a moment.”

He quickly shut the door and swiped up her nightgown and dressing robe, which were hanging on the changing screen, and gently rocked Amelia awake.

“Wha—Graham?” She sat up and immediately draped her arms around his neck. “Come back to bed.”

“You have to wake up. Alston opened his eyes. We need to go see your brother.”

“Sam?” She bolted awake. “What’s wrong?”

“Shh, he’s awake, Amelia.” He grinned, his eyes stinging. “He’s awake.” And maybe, unlike last time, he’d stay awake, because despite Dr. Sloan’s odd personality, he was a miracle worker.

She threw back the coverlet, and he handed her the clothing. She tugged on her nightgown and robe and stumbled into her slippers. Graham wiped his sweating hands on his trousers before opening the door and lacing his fingers with hers. The short path to Alston’s room was fraught with tension. Neither spoke. It was as if the slightest thing might burst this bubble of hope. The door stood open, light spilling through. There were multiple voices coming from inside the room. As they crossed the threshold, candles and firelight lit the room.

Dr. Sloan was there. He peeled Alston’s eyelids apart and looked in, but they closed again when he removed his fingers. He picked up Alston’s arm and dropped it back on the bed, then he pinched his fingers one by one.

“Is he...” Amelia halted by her brother’s bedside. “He opened his eyes? What does that mean?”

“I can’t rightly say,” Dr. Sloan replied. “It was only a moment, witnessed by Mr. Petrov. I’m trying to stimulate him.”

Amelia whirled to Petrov.

He stepped forward, worrying a handkerchief in his hands. “I was reading to him, my lady—that book he likes about Miss Winifred—and his lashes flickered, like he was waking or having a dream, and then they opened. But they did not focus like he could see me.”

Amelia squeezed his hand. “Is this good?” she asked Dr. Sloan.

“The fact he is still breathing is astonishing. I’m not humble about my skills, but this is a new frontier. I can’t predict anything. It’s not bad, though.”

Amelia nodded, biting her lips as her lashes flooded with tears. Graham put an arm around her. He couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. He felt like his heart might give out with the amount of excitement and hope bubbling inside him.

“Do you recommend we try to wake him more or let him rest?” Graham asked.

“Rest,” Dr. Sloan said, tucking Alston’s blanket around him again. “If added stimulation were useful in this moment, it would have made a difference already. So for now it’s rest again. If he wakes, he will do it on his own and in his own time. Nothing should be rushed. However, I do think he has enough awareness to swallow. He’s done it multiple times since I’ve been examining him.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said. The doctor departed and Graham had to convince Amelia to go back to bed. Dawn was only a couple hours away. In bed, he held her tightly, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping, just like he couldn’t.

In the morning, they bathed, dressed, and returned to Alston. Dr. Sloan was there yet again, ear to Alston’s chest. He straightened and acknowledged them with a nod before resuming his ministrations. Miss Smith was there as well, waiting for instructions. Graham blocked Amelia’s view. The blanket was down, Alston’s chest and belly exposed, along with the large puffy red scar from his surgery.

“You might not want to look,” he warned her.

“I need to,” she said, pushing past him. “I’m part of his care, I can’t be—” Her steps slowed as she took in her brother. “Bloody hell, Sam.”

Alston’s eyelashes flickered.

“He’s been doing more of that,” Dr. Sloan said. “It’s not consciousness, but he could be dreaming, and that’s a good sign. He’s still there.”

Amelia stepped closer, taking Alston’s hand. She hissed. “He’s hot.”

“The fever from the infection is continuing. I expected this.” Dr. Sloan said.

Amelia picked up a damp cloth and wiped it over her brother’s face. He turned his head toward the cool cloth. Amelia bit her lip, trying not to grin as she turned to Graham and then the doctor.

“Sam?” she asked shakily. “Can you hear me?”

He winced, and then his lashes fluttered. As they stood around him, holding a collective breath, Alston opened his eyes.