Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

William hadn't known what to expect when he'd found Nan staring up at him. He certainly hadn't known how she would react to what he'd just said and done. Shutting her eyes and falling back to sleep had certainly not made his short list of possibilities, though he was immensely grateful for the reprieve. For several minutes, William sat by her side, staring down at her, thinking she might wake again. When she didn't, he began to wonder if she'd even heard him. If when she finally did wake, she would remember his kiss, and if she did, would she accuse him of taking liberties or simply chalk it up to a feverish dream?

He liked that idea, a pleased smile creased his lips as he dwelled further on the prospect. How would she react towards him if she thought she had dreamed of him kissing her? Would she blush and become nervous and tongue-tied as the girls used to when he showed even a slight interest in them?

Used to.

There was a cruel recollection; he was not the handsome man he once was. He was scarred, hideous, and even with her bold words and the courage she possessed to look at his face, he doubted very much she would want him to touch her as he would like to do, as any man would.

Still, he would not let his looks or her possible aversion to his features stop him from having her. Before, he only had a favor to weigh over her head. Now, he had her brat, and if she loved the child as much as her boy loved her, she would do any and everything in her power to see him well looked after, and that was something William could easily accomplish.

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When Nan opened her eyes, the world was bright and warm. Day shone through the windows on either side of the fireplace. The steady pale gray of an overcast sky filled their panes as loud snores filled her ears. With a furrowed brow, she stared at the window, the walls covered in patterned wallpaper and wooden panels, the rich dark material used for her bed's canopy, the stone fireplace and its ornate marble mantle. She remembered this room, though she thought she had dreamt it. She remembered it being darker; she remembered feeling weaker. She remembered someone being there with her.

Always there.

Then, a movement at the foot of her bed caught her eye. When she saw Jamie stretched across a cushioned bench, relief flooded her chest in a nearly overwhelming wave. He was here! He was safe! He was...clean?

Her brow creased further as she slowly pulled herself up onto her knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to get a better look at the child. His hair was no longer stringy with oil and dirt, and his face was no longer smudged with ash and dust. What person had gotten her grubby little Jamie so clean and well-dressed? She wondered as she took in his fresh shirt and trousers. Gone were the tattered and stained breeches she'd mended more times than she cared to count. The oversized shirt she'd had to pin up at the sleeves so he'd not get it caught in their cooking fire.

Who had taken such good care of her little Jamie? She wondered. Then her head jerked to the door as it was pushed open, and a woman in black servant attire entered. Her light brown hair piled atop her skull, secured by a frilly white servant cap and black ribbon. She looked only a handful of years older than Nan as she faced her, and the tray of china she'd been carrying clattered loudly to the floor. Making it very obvious the woman had not intended to find Nan awake, much less up and staring at her, though the shock of seeing her up was quickly redirected to the shattered china at her feet as she crouched down and started picking up the bits.

Quickly, Nan threw back the covers and scrambled off the bed, aiming to help the woman, as she picked up the broken shards.

"Stop, right there!" The woman ordered, throwing up a hand to keep Nan still. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked firmly, scowling at Nan as she stood not even a foot from her bed.

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