Free To Protect and to Cherish by Becky Riker Page B

pain.”
                  Erin laughed, “If you want to lie down on your front, I may help you with the pain.”
                  With no little difficulty, Jillian did as she was told, though she had no idea what Erin had in mind.
                  Erin started at her neck and shoulders and began rubbing Jillian’s muscles with strong hands. By the time she was finished, Jillian felt much less pain.
                  Jillian sat up a bit, “Thank you, Erin. I feel so much better.”
                  “Will you be needing anything else, miss – I mean, milady?”
                  Jillian shook her head, “Thank you, no.”
                  Erin curtseyed and left the room.
                  Jillian was up early again. Her legs and lower back felt as though they were on fire. Even her shoulders ached. She was again grateful for Erin’s ministrations the night before. She surely would have felt worse without them.
    She was at the window, trying to ascertain the weather, when a knock sounded on her door. Assuming it was Erin, she called for her to enter.
                  “I thought you might still be sleeping,” Slade opened the door.
                  Jillian glanced down at her dressing gown and then back at her husband, eyes wide.
                  “I apologize, Jillian,” he backed out the door. “I thought I heard you tell me to come in.”
                  Still in shock at having been caught in any state of undress, Jillian realized she had embarrassed her husband by her reaction to his entrance. She glanced down at her attire as she hurried to the door.
                  Her nightgown was modest enough, and, with the robe over the top of it, she was not actually wearing any less than she did throughout the day.
                  “Slade,” she opened the door to the sitting room and glanced around.
                  He was not there. She was about to turn back into her own room, but she heard a noise in her husband’s room.
                  She swallowed hard, drew a deep breath, and went to knock on his door.
                  “Come in,” he called.
                  Jillian was glad her husband was already dressed or she would have feared catching him in the same state he caught her.
                  “Slade,” she opened the door but did not step in, “am I bothering you?”
                  He rose from the chair and met her at the door, “Bothering me? No.”
                  “I came to apologize for my reaction to your entrance. I was expecting Erin.”
                  He leaned against the door frame and looked down at her, “Does my knock sound very like hers?”
                  She shook her head, a smile ghosting over her lips, “No, but she has been knocking on my door in the mornings for about five years. I’ve grown accustomed to her face being the first one I see.”
                  “Did you call for her this morning?”
                  Jillian frowned, “No. I never bother calling for her. She simply comes – if I am asleep, she returns later.”
                  “Jillian,” his voice was soft, “I do not think you can expect her now unless you call.”
                  She must have looked confused because he went on.
                  “You are married now. She will wait for you to call her.”
                  Jillian’s face flamed at the implication.
                  “I considered knocking at the door between our rooms,” he explained his actions, “but it seemed a little too intimate for where we are right now.”
                  “I am sorry, Slade,” she couldn’t look at him. “I should have realized – about Erin, I