Hey guys,
Here's the next part! I was pretty much dyyyyying as I wrote it, so please let me know your thoughts!
I love getting feedback from you guys, you don't know how much it means to me. <3
P.s. this chapter is loading weirdly on my computer, it cuts off after like two pages. If it seems to be loading wonky, try reloading. Mine keeps cutting off after he tells her who Michael is - it does NOT end here. This chapter is 2900 words, so keep trying to reload it if that happens!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"It hurts," I whispered, my voice wavering as I could no longer ignore the pain in my body. "Everything hurts."
"Rebecca, I am so sorry," Stanton started before I cut him off.
"Don't," I whispered, leaving my cheek pressed to his. I knew he would blame himself for what had happened.
I could feel his jaw clench as he fought against the words he wanted to say. I slightly pulled back before I turned and pressed my lips to his cheek, to which he slowly withdrew and turned his face, his forehead pressed against mine as if asking for permission. I tilted my head up and he gently kissed me, sending flutters throughout my body. I had missed him.
Just as he withdrew, the door to the chambers opened and an elderly man walked in.
"Ah, you've woken," he said as he walked up to me. "I'm Dr. Robert Mattson, I've been tending to your injuries with the help from your husband."
I nodded lightly, biting my lip against the pain radiating throughout my body.
"I'm sorry to report that you will be in pain for quite a while. Your ribs have taken immense damage and the wounds on your lower legs have become infected. It's impossible to know if your ribs are broken, fractured or just bruised but if any piece of bone has chipped off, I fear for what may happen. I have bound your torso and I have applied a poultice to your legs but I need to change it before retiring for the night," he explained.
A few moments later he came back with a mortar and pestle, mixing his poultice together. He handed it to Stanton, who was now by his side, as he took a small shears and began cutting the bandages off my legs.
I was surprised at how tender the area was and I bit my cheek to stop myself from hissing in pain as he began to pull off the bandages. I tried to focus on something else but the only other thing my senses wanted to register was the crushing pain in my torso with every shallow breath I took.
Stanton looked at me apologetically, to which I shot back a reprimanding look. I didn't want him to feel responsible for my injuries. The pain lessened greatly when Robert began to apply the poultice generously to my legs, bandaging them again as soon as he finished.
"I will go fetch a meal, it is absolutely imperative that you eat something," he said as he put away his mortar and pestle and scurried out the door.
As soon as the doctor left, Stanton was once again at my side, studying my hand, which sat in the large palm of his uninjured hand. We sat in silence for the moments that the doctor was gone.
The doctor returned shortly after. He handed Stanton a wooden bowl filled with stew and he placed a goblet of water on the bedside table next to the chair where Stanton sat.
"Water, please," I said, my throat aching.
Stanton nodded and looked to the doctor. "We'll have to raise you up a little, we don't want you to choke," the doctor spoke.
I nodded and clenched my teeth as each of the men put a hand behind my shoulders and pulled me forward. I cried out as my ribs felt as if one of the mercenaries had just crashed their boot into my sides again. I cringed at the memory. Stanton's mouth was in a grim line as I let my head fall to the side slightly, trying to cope with the pain. The doctor worked quickly to prop pillows behind me and then gently lay me back against them, my body now propped half way between laying flat and sitting upright.
Stanton gently raised the goblet to my mouth and tipped it back. The cool water was a relief on my throat as I took long swallows.
I felt foolish as Stanton raised a spoonful of stew to my mouth, feeding me. My mouth involuntarily watered before I opened it, taking the spoon in my mouth. At first he only gave me spoonfuls of the broth before cutting the potatoes and vegetables into small pieces and giving me bits at a time.
He gave me the last spoonful before the doctor chimed in, "I'll be retiring for the night now. In the morning I will check your bandages once more. I cannot stress how relieved I am that you have finally awoken," he said before shaking Stanton's hand and exiting the room.
"What does he mean by finally, how long have I been here?" I asked, my voice finally coming back.
"You slept here for two nights before waking. We assumed you had not been fed," Stanton said, his voice getting tight as he wrestled with his anger. "He said you could not have gone much longer without some provisions and in order to eat, you needed to wake. I believe the doctor thought there may have been damage to your head and that you would never wake, though he never said it."
I nodded slightly before I reached my hand out for his once more. "Stanton," I said quietly. "They were going to kill me."
His eyes met mine as he only grimly nodded.
"I tried to escape once and I would have if their leader hadn't come down into the cellar when he did. I had bested one of the mercenaries and I was about to end him when their leader came down," I winced as I recalled the painful memories.
"Throughout the time I was there, one of them continually laid his hands on me. He seemed to thrive from taunting me."
"Rebecca," Stanton said, his voice laced in anger. "The doctor examined you and your clothing when we got you here but some things only you will know. I'm not asking you to share with me if you do not want to."
I nodded, knowing what he was referring to. Many times mercenaries would have their sexual ways with women. I was thankful that these men had not. For whatever reason, the short and fat one, Ed, was the only one who seemed to enjoy bringing me pain. I believe that Garon and Michael would have just killed me quickly, if it had gotten to that point.
"None of them forced themselves upon me," I said quickly.
He nodded, a long breath escaping his lips. "You do not need to talk about this now, it can wait," he said as he leaned forward, brushing a hand down the side of my face.
"I want to. The sooner I get it all out, the sooner I can move on from it. I do not know what help it would be, but I learned the names of the men who held me there," I spoke, trying to focus more on the feeling of his hand on my face than on the feeling of the pain in my ribs.
He only nodded, urging me to continue, listening intently.
"The short one, they called him Ed. The other man, the taller one, he was Garon. Their leader was Michael. He was there when we arrived but he disappeared as soon as they decided to propose the terms to you," I explained.
Stanton swore as his eyebrows set in frustration. "Of course..."
"What is it?"
"It had to be Michael Pruitt. He is notorious for taking on assignments that other mercenaries don't want."
"Nobody wanted to kill a Duchess," I whispered.
Stanton shook his head, "it's a huge risk. Michael wouldn't have cared, for the right price he would do anything. He was one of my knights. One of the best. He got offered to take an assignment and became greedy, fighting for coin instead of country. He abandoned the knights and has led a mercenary life ever since. "
I remembered back to the way Michael carried himself, the belt of daggers he wore on his abdomen. He had seemed much more adept than the other two men.
"Stanton," I spoke, breaking his train of thought, one question now consuming my mind.
He looked at me and his face, once again, became grave as he knew what I was about to ask.
"Who paid them? Who paid to have me killed?" I asked.
"Helen," he said shortly, his voice laced with a contempt I hadn't heard for the woman before.
My heart shot to my throat, a fire lighting in my soul at the sound of the woman's name. I had disliked her from the moment I met her and I had reprimanded her and her actions towards my husband. I had made myself very clear that she was to stop her foolish advances towards him. Clearly she had decided to act otherwise but I never would have thought her capable of something so malicious.
"I will take her to the cells immediately once we return," he spat, as if he saw her now as the disgusting creature she really was.
"No. I will," I said, wanting to see her face when I deliver her the news of her fate. Would she try to run? Would she beg for mercy?
He was about to argue but I cut him off, "She paid to have me killed. It's only right that I be able to let her know that she failed."
He nodded, the surprise on his face washed away, as if he had forgotten my past, that I used to fight off raiders, that I was not a woman born into the ways of a lady.
"I figured you would not want to see her," he explained.
"Quite the opposite," I replied, a bitter smile resting upon my lips.
It was silent for a few more moments before Stanton spoke, his fingers tracing the lines in my palm.
"You should not have been put through this," he said, his voice frustrated again.
"Stop," I spoke but I was quickly cut off when he continued.
"No, Rebecca. They were almost successful in killing you. Ending your life," he said as he placed my hand back on the bed beside me and walked to the fireplace, taking wood from the stack along the side of the fireplace and putting it into the pit. He lit a fire and watched it crackle for a few moments before returning to the chair beside my bed.
"Stanton, it wasn't your fault," I spoke, holding my hand out for him. He didn't take it, he only spoke out once more.
"Not only were you forced into this marriage with me, you were almost killed because of it. First you were plucked from your home and brought to the castle and then your brother was injured, you had enough on your plate. I should have never gotten involved, Prince Philip would have courted you, he would have been good for you," he said as he rubbed his hands together, not looking at me. He looked down so angrily into his hands it seemed as if he wished to set them on fire.
"You don't get to decide what would have been or will be good for me. I didn't have feelings for Philip, he knew that and so did you, Stanton what is this about? Why are you saying all of this, acting like this? Look at me," I said finally, demanding that he quit ignoring me.
"You were almost killed. I failed you, I failed your family. Not only were you forced into this marriage, I failed as a husband," he spat, angry now.
"You were forced into this just as much as I," I quipped. "Do you forget that there are two halves to this story? You act as if I am the sole victim of the king's demands, you had no choice either," I responded, my throat tight, my chest clenching. I hated the feeling of rejection that was washing over me.
"The king would have forced me to have a wife either way, I see that now. He had always planned on it. He provided me a wife simply so I may have heirs, he said this himself. But if I had never gotten involved with you, if I had just kept to myself, you could have avoided this," he said, still staring into his hands.
"You don't get to play the antagonist. Damn it, Stanton, will you at least look at me?!" I said angrily. Finally, his eyes snapped to mine, causing me to lose my train of thought as I lost myself in his blue gaze.
"Don't you dare act as if you've brought upon my ruin. Don't you see all that you've given not only to me, but to my family as well?" I asked. I held my hand up again for him and when he didn't take it, I acted as if I was going to try and get out of bed and his eyes widened as he dropped from the chair to his knees next to the bed. "What are you doing? You must stay in bed," he hissed as his hand traced my shoulders, his eyes narrowing as he traced down the bandages as light as a feather.
"I will not let you ignore me. Listen to what I am telling you, Stanton," I said as I captured his hand into both of mine, holding it on my chest, not letting him pull away from me.
"I have gotten you into a mess you don't deserve, a mess you don't belong in," he said once more as he looked away, into the fire. Before I could respond he spoke again.
"It is getting late, you must be tired, you need rest," he spoke as he got up and put out the lantern that burned above the fireplace. The fireplace kept a warm glow cast over the chambers.
I swallowed my response and decided to let the conversation rest for now. He was right, I was exhausted. I watched as he made a motion to sit back in the chair.
"Stanton, lay with me," I said quietly. For a moment I thought he would deny my request but he slowly walked around the bed, to the other side. The bed was large, I barely took up one side of it. He slowly made his way towards my side, making sure not to jostle the bed too much with his movements. I thought he would stop where he was, out of arms reach, as he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting with himself. A split second later he began moving closer again. He was laying on his side, his body was mere inches from mine, his abdomen nearly touching my arm, which lay by my side as I was lying on my back, propped up into a half sitting position on pillows. I turned my face towards him and smiled when he propped his head up on his uninjured arm, matching my height.
"Will you rest also?" I asked.
He nodded, "once I am sure you are sleeping comfortably."
I smiled and bent my arm up, fingering his sling for a moment before lightly caressing his chest with my fingers.
"Goodnight, Rebecca," he spoke before kissing my forehead lightly.
"Goodnight, Stanton."
I closed my eyes, letting myself be comforted by the light touch of his chest expanding against my hand. For as exhausted as I was I had hoped that sleep would find me quickly. I was disappointed when my earlier conversation with Stanton played over and over in my mind, my heart ached every time I heard the words that were spoken.
"Stanton," I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper, my chest fluttering nervously.
"Hmm?" Stanton hummed back. I imagined the gaze I would find if I opened my eyes but I feared I would lose my nerve to speak.
"The place I belong is wherever you are," I whispered, wondering if it was even loud enough to hear before I added, "After my brother was hurt I didn't want anything more in my life that I couldn't stand losing. It's too late for that."
I opened my eyes and locked my eyes onto his as I continued, "I love you, Stanton."
My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I thought it might fail. I was stuck between feeling surprised that I had actually spoken those words out loud and terrified at what his response would be.
He responded by leaning towards me and I sighed when I felt his lips on my forehead, both of my cheeks in turn, my nose and then my lips. He kissed me twice, deeply and then pulled away before he pressed his cheek to mine and I heard him whisper, "As I love you, Rebecca. My heart belongs to you."