Page 11 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter Nine

Orlando continued to visit Blythe every evening.

He would bring her books to read during the day and she taught him how to play cribbage at night.

And as a sennight turned into a fortnight and then into nearly a month they shared stories from their childhood and siblings.

Blythe told him about some embarrassing moments during her two seasons and he regaled her with tales from when he attended medical school in Scotland.

There were agreements and disagreements, but he never discounted her opinion, nor thought she should not have one because she happened to be female. She appreciated that more than he would ever know.

They grew closer and Blythe experienced excited anticipation each day as it neared the time he would appear. They were very careful in that they always remained apart and never touched, other than when she placed her hand on his sleeve, but she longed for so much more, no matter how wrong.

She wanted to be held and ached for something so simple.

That was not all, either. In her hours spent with Orlando, she discovered what it was like to be happy, to laugh, and not to have to guard her words. She could tease without fear of retribution, and he admitted to his own failings.

Many of those haunted him and he blamed himself for lives that were lost and the fear that he had made a mistake and vowed to do better and save as many people as he could.

With each truthful conversation, admission of weakness, and revealed vulnerability, Blythe’s respect for Orlando grew.

It was more than simple respect. She was coming to love him but kept telling herself that it was because he was a man she respected and a dear, trusted friend.

That could be the only love that she had for him because anything beyond was wrong because she was married to someone who had discarded her nearly a month ago. Cast off and forgotten, yet she was tied to John in the eyes of the church and law.

Orlando used to leave as soon as they believed the other guests were asleep. That is, until now. Blythe had excused herself for a moment and when she returned, found that Orlando had fallen asleep on one side of the bed, across from where she had been, the cribbage board between them.

She nearly woke him, but Orlando had confessed that he did not get much sleep because of how late he retired, which left her overcome with guilt.

She should have found an excuse for why he left earlier in the evening.

He could have claimed that there were illnesses and he did not want to be so far away.

She could have insisted that it was not necessary for him to visit every evening but couldn’t force herself to say the words.

Blythe liked having him here, needed him here, but she also knew that he grew concerned with leaving his sister alone for too long, though he assured her that Isabella could take care of herself, and without her knowing, he had hired two men that he trusted completely to watch over her.

This only caused Blythe increased her guilt because it was costing Orlando more and more since he had purchased her.

He’d sold her jewelry and gave her the funds, but he refused to accept reimbursement for what he had spent.

A surgeon in Wellington’s Army cannot be so well off and she did not want him to return to England with barely a penny to his name.

Yet, she was not sorry that he was here, now, asleep beside her. It was comforting and she wished that she could lay in his arms, her head on his chest, yet she did not dare.

No matter how much she longed to be held by him, to be closer, it was impossible.

They were friends and he had rescued her, and she was married to someone else.

He was also the strongest reason she remained in Brussels and she ached with the very idea of leaving here, knowing that nothing could ever become of what they shared.

She loved Orlando and he was forbidden.

Their association would also likely soon end.

Orlando had told her this evening that there were rumors that Napoleon was close, but they’d heard those same rumors for weeks.

That still didn’t relieve the tension that had been building in him over the last few days, however.

It wasn’t the battle that he feared it was the wounded that would be brought to him and he hated knowing that he would not be able to save everyone.

This was a burden he carried, confessions and fears he shared with her in whispers before he left for the night. She wanted to ease his concerns, but there was nothing that she could say or do because England would soon be at war.

* * *

Canons shook the ground, metal upon metal rang through the air as swords clashed against the background of blasts of muskets and rifles, quickly followed by cries of agony and groans of pain.

Blood soaked the ground already littered with bodies and limbs while smoke filled the air, nearly choking him.

Men called out to Orlando to save them. Gaping stomach wounds—an impossibility.

They would die. A missing foot, that he could salvage.

Not the foot, but the life. Blinded, burned and maimed men called out.

Hundreds in every direction. Orlando didn’t know where to start or who to help first yet still more came.

He reached a soldier, one that he knew that he could save, only to look down and not know what to do.

A quiet ‘help’ escaped between his lips and then the soldier was gone.

Orlando rushed to another, but he had no tools and no way to stop the bleeding. A hand grabbed his arm. He turned to help, but the arm was no longer attached to a soldier yet it still gripped him.

There were too many wounded and no way to treat them. They would all die. Every one of them and it would be his fault.

Orlando’s eyes flew open and he sat up, heart pounding, pulse hammering, unable to breathe. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that he was in Blythe’s chamber.

“Orlando?”

He turned to find Blythe with her blue eyes full of concern.

He wanted to assure her all was well, but the images were still too vivid in his mind and the panic lingered.

“What is wrong?”

All he could do was blink. He did not dare tell her. Nobody should be subjected to the horrors that revisited him in nightmares.

When her fingers pushed the hair from his forehead, Orlando closed his eyes and savored her touch. It took everything in his power not to pull Blythe close and cling to her softness and goodness.

“Do you want to talk about your dream?”

Orlando managed to shake his head.

Her response was to scoot to the middle of the bed then pull him down so that his head rested on her bosom as she gently combed her fingers through his hair.

He needed the gentleness of her touch, softness of her body, and with each beat of her heart in his ear, the anxiousness that accompanied him from the nightmare began to ease.

Orlando did not know how long he lay there in the comfort of her arms and he did not want to leave or even move.

And even though he willed himself to stay awake and savor her touch and comfort, knowing that he might never be held by Blythe again, he drifted off and woke to a sun-filled room, his head still on her breast, a place he wanted to remain.

Except, he had to be at his duties and slowly rolled away to find that Blythe was awake and watching him.

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

“Some.”

“I hope I did not disturb you.”

“You did not.” Her smile was gentle as her blue eyes filled with concern. “How are you?”

“Well,” he responded and he turned and planted his feet on the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I was worried.”

He reached back and took her hand. “It was a nightmare. That is all.” A very real one that will visit as soon as the canons fire again.

Orlando pushed the thoughts away. There was nothing he could do to change the future so there was no reason why he must think about it now, but of something else.

“I meant to ask, are you still avoiding Brussels?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I have received several invitations to entertainments.”

“Truly?”

“Only because when I originally joined the army, I was to serve the high-ranking officers and lords. And while I still do, I became a surgeon out of need. It is because of those connections that my name appears on guest lists.”

“Have you attended any functions?”

“I prefer to spend my evenings here,” he responded. “But if you would like to attend a soiree or ball…”

“While I once adored dancing, I am certain that there will be at least one person present who will know me and likely my father and if I am with you and not John…well, I would rather not have to explain or leave myself open to speculation.”

“I understand. I only wanted to make the offer in case you had a desire to leave for an evening.”

“If there are entertainments that you wish to attend, there is no reason why you cannot. I will be fine one night without you.”

Orlando turned to look her in the eye. “What if I am not?”

“Not what?” she asked almost in a whisper.

“Not fine if I do not see you.”

His heart pounded because this was the closest that he had come to making a declaration but he had to say something. They’d been together each night for nearly a month and shared so much.

“I am not fine when you are not here either.”

They stared at each across the chamber. He wanted to go to Blythe and take her in his arms, but he knew what would follow, and no matter how much he needed, wanted and desired her, he would not disrespect her.

Only if she asked would he become her lover, but she had to ask him because she was the one who was married.

“Good day, Blythe,” he said then left the chamber.

Bloody hell! When he first met her, he had promised that he would not make her his mistress because he would not commit adultery, yet, if she were to ask, he would and beg forgiveness later.