From Protector To Lady

From Protector To Lady Chapter 43

Hi all!

Here's the next part! Been waiting for this one for a LONG time!
Let me know what you think!
P.s. this is NOT the end of the story, there's still a lot to come for the lovely Stanton and Rebecca!

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I watched her as she slept curled up next to me, she looked peaceful. Her face was calm, serene, and beautiful. Her long, dark hair cascaded behind her, one arm tucked under her chin, the other draped lazily over my abdomen as I lay next to her.

My chest ached as I thought of the latest tragedy to have come upon her. She had been with child. She had lost the child. I could easily recall the color drain from her face as the doctor spoke, telling her what had happened only yesterday. Clearly she had been surprised, scared, angry. I could see emotions rolling across her eyes as I had finally learned to understand her. The way her chin would tilt up slightly when she was trying to be strong, her jaw set and her eyes steeled over. Surely she had learned to do this at a young age, having been a young woman with a large burden on her shoulders.

She didn't weep, she didn't wail at the thought of a lost child. It only fueled the anger she held towards Helen. My own anger boiled just slightly below the surface at all times. She had nearly killed Rebecca. I too thought that she had, if at least indirectly, something to do with the pregnancy not taking.

It was mind boggling how different a direction my life had taken than I had expected. I had expected my sole focus to be training men, fighting in battles and leading a duchy. I had wanted a title, an estate, and power after that feeling of helplessness settled in my gut as a young boy when my family was killed.

I too had lost a child yesterday. Had I pictured myself being a father? No, not at all. I had never imagined a family for myself. I never saw myself with a young boy or girl propped upon my knee as I told them stories. I never envisioned myself picking up a toddler, brushing the dirt off their trousers after they'd fallen and scraped a knee. I never envied the men who walked with a wife, a child held tightly on her hip. It was not something I desired, not something I had wanted.

But neither was a wife and now I did not want to picture a life without her. The strong, stubborn, yet delicate paradox of a woman that was my wife. I brought my arm over and buried my hand in her hair and leaned over, pressing my lips to hers.

She stirred for a moment before she woke and responded, her arm tightening on my abdomen as she pulled herself on top of me, deepening the kiss for a moment.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I whispered as I broke the kiss, my arms winding around her waist.

"You'd best be," she quipped.

"I couldn't stop myself," I murmured as I kissed down her chin and along her jaw to just below her ear.

She sighed slowly before she brought her hand up to my chest tracing patterns on my skin.

"Are you angry with me?" she said quietly, not meeting my eyes when she spoke, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Why would I be angry with you?" I asked, searching her face. When she still avoided looking at me I brought my hand up and put a finger under her chin, directing her face towards mine.

"I lost your child," she said quietly, her cheeks turning red. "It could have been a son, he would have been an heir to the duchy."

Her voice was so soft I barely heard her.

"Not in the least," I said, surprised, shocked by what she had asked.

"I feel like I've failed you as a wife. Every man with a title deserves an heir," she said as she bit her lip, her eyes flickering away for a moment.