Free Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor by Regina Jeffers

lifted her head to brace her against his chest before offering the glass to her lips. “Easy,” he cautioned. When she shook off his offer of a second drink, John lowered Satiné to the bed. “Do you wish me to change the linens?” he had commandeered additional bedding and had removed the ones wet with sweat and replaced them with dry ones. He would prefer to have the linens freshly laundered, but on ship, that possibility was next to null.
    “Later.” Satiné whispered. “Just sleep.”
    John kissed her forehead. “Your fever is less today,” he had assured lamely. He was not certain what would bring Satiné comfort. In fact, before his marriage, he would have proclaimed to the world that he knew his lady better than did her Uncle Charles, but over the past few days he had realized he knew very little of Satiné’s personal favorites: colors, treats, time of the year, foods, or sleeping position.
    “Drops?” she asked groggily.
    To prevent her from scratching the disease’s characteristic whelps, John had placed socks on her hands. When that did not solve the situation, he had taken the coward’s path and had added a drop of laudanum to the water he had fed her by spoon so his wife might rest easier.
    “Yes.” He brushed the damp curl from her cheek. “Just rest. I will watch over you until you are well and beyond.” Her shallow breathing announced her return to sleep. He wished she had acknowledged his efforts–to express one moment of affection; yet, he knew his longings irrational: He had never known love, but he knew with every fiber of his soul, the lack of love was a terrible malady to endure.
    A half hour later, he emerged on deck for a few minutes of fresh air and a stretch of his legs. He should have waited for Miss Neville’s return, but he had reasoned as his wife slept soundly, no one would know the difference.
    “Baron Swenton?” a voice called, and he turned to see Miss Neville sitting in an improvised chair between two barrels stored on deck.
    John smiled easily. “Miss Neville, I thought you in your quarters.”
    “I brought Rupert up for a bit of sunshine. My father was always one to say the sun made children grow as tall and strong as any flower.” John noted her accent had thickened since they had boarded the ship. The Western Moon had several Irish sailors, and he suspected the men sought out the company of an Irish miss.
    He propped a hip on a stacked rope to lean closer for a long look at the boy. “How is Rupert doing? I know children often have difficulty adjusting to the rocking motion of the sea. Any sickness?”
    “None which is evident to Mrs. Tailor.” Miss Neville adjusted the blanket about the child. “Would you care to hold him, Sir?”
    John smiled down at the child. The boy gurgled a milky bubble, and John’s heart lurched. He hoped his own children to be equally adorable. Rupert’s angelic countenance reminded John of the child’s mother. “I would enjoy learning more of Satiné’s son.” He assisted Miss Neville to her feet before cradling the boy in his arms. “I meant to stretch my legs. Would you care to join me for a walk about the deck?”
    Miss Neville glanced about anxiously. “Should I not see to the baroness?”
    John shook off the suggestion. “My wife rests soundly.” He whispered into the lady’s ear. “A drop or two of laudanum keeps the baroness from attacking her infection.”
    Miss Neville chuckled. “A creative solution, Sir. Doctor Berhardt gave Miss Satiné a bottle of the medicinal after Rupert’s arrival.”
    John frowned. If he had known Satiné had become accustomed to laudanum, he would never have given her more. He knew several of the aristocracy who used the pain drops as freely as pouring a glass of wine. He would watch Satiné carefully for any signs of dependency. “Thank you for the information. I appreciate your candor.”
    She accepted his arm, the one upon which the baby’s head rested. “You appear a bit gaunt,