Free Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption by Jeannie Ruesch Page A

avoid conversations, now she couldn’t stop thinking about the talks they should have had. The things she had wanted to say. “You have made me so angry, do you know that?”
    He didn’t answer. “Of course you know that. This is silly. This conversation is not all that different from others we’ve had, come to think of it. A lot of my words and very little of yours. At least this way, you’re forced to stay in one place.”
    Silence.
    “What happened to you?” Her words held a sad wonder, a longing to understand that went far beyond yesterday’s accident. “What did Edwin mean? Why haven’t you had a peaceful life?”
    Lily sighed. Whether conscious or not, Robert wasn’t going to share. But she couldn’t leave. Not until she knew he was going to be all right.
    An unwelcome thought crept in. She couldn’t shut it out, and knew it should propel her toward the door, but she didn’t move.
    But she knew, all the same, that were the roles reversed, Robert wouldn’t have stayed.

Chapter Seven
    Three days later, Lily was losing hope.
    Robert hadn’t grown any worse but he hadn’t improved, either.
    He had, however, grown quite in need of a bath.
    Lily took in a deep breath and picked up the bowl Mrs. Tandy had filled with water. She’d mentioned it to Edwin, but his look of horror made it clear bathing Robert had not been part of his duties. Very well. She needed to do something, anything other than sit by his side and have one-sided conversations with him.
    She had sent a note to her brother’s house the morning after the accident, once the fog had cleared, letting them know her decision to stay until he woke up.
    Of course, every day Robert didn’t wake up made the prospect of that happening dimmer. The grief that weighted her body surprised her. She felt it in the exhaustion in her limbs, in the ache in her chest.
    But right now, her husband needed a bath, and she was the woman to do it.
    Lily set the bowl on the bed next to his still form and rolled up her sleeves to her elbows. She stared at his face, watching for any sign of movement, any twitch that might indicate this was all an elaborate scheme. For what, she couldn’t fathom, but the ridiculous thought crossed her mind anyway.
    When he appeared unchanged, she dipped the rag into the water and rubbed the soap against it until bubbles began to form. Her stomach fluttered as she turned to her husband.
    The blanket that covered him would need to be removed.
    It was pathetic, really, for her to be this nervous. She’d seen him unclothed before. The first year of their marriage, she had seen him quite a lot. She’d had the glorious right of running her hands over his body often and with enthusiasm.
    Each time he had touched her, she’d tumbled deeper, further in love with him. But that love had always been laced with anxiety. She had never stopped wondering, questioning what he felt.
    When the miscarriage happened, he’d stopped any attempts at making their marriage work and her fears had tipped to a boiling point. Cordelia had been his first choice, and she’d tortured herself with that knowledge.
    Lily set the bowl of soapy water on the table next to the bed, watching as it sloshed onto the wood. Reliving the past was not helping.
    She grabbed the edge of the blanket and peeled it back.
    He had changed.
    She recalled hints of definition, but now the muscles were defined, taut across the body that held not one ounce of fat. What had he done with himself? When?
    His stomach was a hard, flat surface with the smallest indentations that outlined his muscles, even in rest. He was lean, from top to bottom. Broad shoulders that tapered down into a trim waist and ended in long, muscled legs that had tangled with hers, captured hers. Made her feel connected.
    It had been so long since they had touched, in any way. Not even a gesture of comfort, of welcome. Nothing.
    Years of nothing.
    With a mind of its own, her hand landed on his stomach. The hard heat of