Page 58 of The Odyssean Duke

He smiled wryly. Stephan had vague memories of once liking how Evelina had never asked about the war. That was always what everyone wanted to talk about with him. He supposed that he ought to have anticipated her eventually asking, though. She was his wife, after all.

Stephan settled in his chair. “Let me think about where to begin.”

CHAPTER 25

Sunlight flitted through the window, bathing the room in the soft glow of morning. Evelina sighed and shifted in bed. She was damp with sweat and so warm, but she shivered fiercely. Her head ached, and her vision was white and blurred around the edges. Evelina squinted, forcing her miserable mind to work and put the world into order.

Stephan was asleep in the chair beside her bed. She froze, staring at him; for a heartbeat, she thought that he might be a mere illusion created by her feverish mind. At some time during the night, he had leaned over her bed. Her husband sat in the chair, but his head and arms were both on her bed, so near that she could reach out and touch him. Evelina took a shaky breath. Her fingers curled, and she imagined reaching for her husband and stroking his hair.

“St-stephen?” His name was like a knife being forced down her throat. “Are you awake?”

Stephan mumbled quietly and stirred. Evelina lay back, her cheek pressed against the pillow, and watched him. Her eyes wandered over his broad shoulders. She had seen this handsome man entirely naked, had let her eyes wander over his magnificent form, and Evelina ached to see him like that again. He was so beautiful and strong.

“Evelina,” he murmured, blinking as if taken aback. “I did not realize…”

Evelina let out a small titter of laughter. “That you fell asleep here? I did not either.”

He stood and rolled back his shoulders, a contented sigh escaping him. Stephan raised a hand and massaged the back of his neck, which Evelina realized was likely sore given the manner in which he had spent the night, seemingly bent nearly double over her bed.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He chuckled and shook his head. Stephan cast her a rueful look. “I am fine. The more pertinent question ishow are you?”

Evelina’s instinct was to lie, but she found herself too miserable to summon any good humor about the situation. “I am exhausted.”

Stephan’s brow furrowed with worry, and he placed a hand to her forehead. His fingers were like ice against her bare skin, and a low groan came from Evelina’s throat.

“You are burning,” he murmured. “I will send for a physician at once.”

Evelina’s eyelashes fluttered; it took all her strength not to close her eyes entirely and drift back to sleep.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled. “I had hoped not to delay you any further.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Stephan said. “Anyone might succumb to illness. Even if you had taken exquisite care of yourself, that might have happened.”

Evelina sighed; she imagined that she heard her own breath rattling through her chest, beating against her ribs. “I suppose.”

“I know so,” he said. “Give me a moment.”

Stephan left, and Evelina swallowed hard. His absence had left a hollow sensation inside her, a strange coldness that she knew must be only the product of her feverish mind.

Her first thought was that it was strange for her to feel such emptiness in his absence. It was not as if she and Stephan were overly fond of one another. Her next thought, though, was that it was not strange at all that she should ache for him. Any sicklyperson would long for comfort, for companionship, and Stephan had offered her that. Evelina had not quite decided what to believe when Stephan returned.

He dropped into his chair and smiled at her. “I have sent for the physician,” he said. “The cook will also bring breakfast to us.”

Evelina’s throat ached so badly that she did not think she even could eat, but she knew also that she must try. She smiled weakly. “If I must.”

“You must, indeed,” Stephan said. “We want your recovery to be swift and seamless.”

“So that we can resume our efforts to bear a child,” Evelina said softly.

Stephan cast her an unreadable look. “And because I do not want you to be ill. I doubt you are terribly fond of being sick either.”

“Is anyone?” Evelina asked.

His lips twitched into a smile. “Perhaps, there is some strange and miserable soul in the world who enjoys being sick.”

“I hope I never meet such a person,” Evelina said. “I imagine such a man would be a dreadful conversationalist.”