Page 17 of The Countess's Awakening (The Lovers’ Arch #3)

CHAPTER 17

M orning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, as Esther lay still, both anticipating and dreading the moment she would have to rise.

What day was it? The days blurred together, a steady cycle of effort, pain, and quiet moments of comfort. Her body ached, deep in the muscles, in places she hadn’t even realized could ache. Sometimes she longed for the laudanum. For the relief it could provide. She squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps today, just today, she could take—

No. She couldn’t. Wang hadn’t asked her not to take it. He had left it in her hands. Her decision. He trusted her that much. But after learning what he had suffered because of it… She was determined not to take it ever again. And she was succeeding. She had not touched opium in months. But sometimes, sometimes she longed for the relief.

A kiss on her forehead.

Kai.

She could hear the faint amusement in his voice as he spoke. “If you’re awake enough to think of excuses, you’re awake enough for your therapy.”

She sighed, pushed herself up, and called Margaret to help her get ready.

At the hospital, the pool was her first battlefield. Warm water lapped against her skin as she pushed through it, her legs sluggish, uncooperative. Had she ever thought recovery would be easy? Fast? She now realized the first therapies she had in London had been but a prelude to the grueling work still ahead.

She kicked, stretched, and pulled herself forward, each motion a quiet war between will and weakness. Kai stood by her side, watching, arms crossed, sharp eyes catching every falter, every small triumph.

“Again,” he said when she paused, breathless.

She clenched her jaw and did it again.

The gymnasium smelled of polished wood, sweat, and determination. Esther gritted her teeth as she gripped the parallel bars, her fingers aching from how tightly she held on.

One step.

The muscles in her legs trembled, fire licking up her thighs.

Another.

Her knees buckled. She pitched forward—but Wang was there, always there, catching her, steady hands gripping her waist, her back.

“You fell less this time,” he murmured.

“I still fell.”

“It’s progress.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. Then she tried again.

By the time they arrived home each evening, exhaustion weighed down every inch of her body. She would lie on the chaise, limbs like lead, convinced she could not move for the rest of the night.

And then—Kai’s hands.

Warm, firm, skilled, as they worked the knots from her legs, her back. The sharp sting of his acupuncture needles, the fleeting discomfort that melted into relief. His touch was efficient, practiced—but when she risked glancing at him, she caught something else in his face. Something reverent. Possessive. Or perhaps it was just her wishful thinking.

She closed her eyes and let herself trust it.

Weeks passed. Summer turned into autumn.

She walked ten steps unassisted.

Then twenty.

The day she crossed the length of the gymnasium, she collapsed into Kai’s arms—not from weakness, but from sheer, disbelieving triumph.

She burrowed into him, chest heaving, sweat dampening her brow. And burst into sobs. He held her in silence, his strong arms protecting her from the storm of her own emotions. When she looked up at his face, his expression was unreadable. Then, just for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifted.

She smiled back.

One more step.

Tomorrow, another.

Even if it seemed that for each step she took, he was a step farther away. She couldn’t reach him. But she was determined. She hadn’t finished her therapies. She wasn’t finished with Kai.

She wanted to run to him. Dance with him. Fly with him.

E ach step she took was a step away from him. Wang watched Esther walk away toward the other end of the gymnasium. He didn’t need to stand by her side anymore. Her hand hovered over the rail that stretched the length of the room, but she didn’t grab it. She was walking on her own. A little unsteady still, but better than yesterday. Her confidence would grow from there. She had worked relentlessly. With courage and determination. She had gotten better. His little fawn was ready to stretch her legs and run. He couldn’t hold her back.

Soon, he’d have to let her go. Wang could see the day approaching like the swollen black clouds of a thunderstorm. But not yet. Maybe in a month? She reached the far end of the room and turned, walking back to him. Her face was radiant with hopeful joy. He took in her delicate features, so dear to him. The finely arched eyebrows, the small nose, the rosebud lips that were so innocent and so naughty.

She appeared fragile, but she was strong. Oh, he knew she wouldn’t agree. Esther thought he was the strong one. But in truth, he was in awe of her. Of her determination, her resilience, her openness.

How could he bear to let her go? But how could he keep her? These months stolen away from reality couldn’t endure. They had escaped scandal so far by avoiding society. But once she returned to England, she would have to reenter the world to which she had been born. Her daughter was entering society, and she needed to be there by her side. It was the reason she had done all of this. It was her purpose.

And he? There was no place for him in their lives. The British aristocracy might tolerate him as long as he stayed on the fringes, a silent character they need not pay attention to. But they would never accept him among their ranks. Even here in America, he felt his standing eroding with each passing year. He would only be a liability to her and her daughter. And they didn’t deserve that.

Esther reached him and flashed him a bright smile. “Well? How did I do?”

“Splendidly. You are stronger every day. Before the month is out, you shall be dancing and running.”

She laughed, the sound like the musical notes of a flute. “Not quite. But I hope to be able to dance again someday. Will you dance with me?”

He shook his head slowly. “I told you I can’t dance.”

“Of course you can. You may have never tried, but I’ve yet to see someone move with more elegance than you. Your feet are light, your every movement graceful. Those exercises you do look like a dance.”

“Tai Chi?” He chuckled. “I guess in a way they are, but I don’t know how to dance the waltz or any western dances.”

“I will show you. And then we can dance together,” she replied, full of optimism.

He didn’t contradict her. Far be it from him to take away her joy, but he knew it was unlikely they would ever have the occasion to dance together.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have some fun. In the months Esther had been in New York, she had barely seen more than the inside of his house and this hospital. He had given her no respite from her treatment, and she had taken every challenge in stride and surpassed every expectation. Perhaps it was time to celebrate the victories.

“Let’s take the day off tomorrow,” he said impulsively. “We should celebrate your victory.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s a splendid idea! Where will you take me?”

“Eager to ditch the therapies, are you?”

“The therapies? Yes. Everything else? No. Not a chance.”

And therein was the problem. Because when the therapies ended, so must everything else end.