Meant to Bea

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Moving was painful. The constant pain that shot up his side everytime he tried to move, made it impossible for Race to do anything but remain in bed for several days, forcing Bianca to remain by his side.

He hated seeing her like this —strained and tired. Her migraines were returning —he could tell by the frown that ceased her face in odd moments of the day and by the way she would clamp her lips shut in between sentences as if trying to stifle a painful sigh— and her appetite was leaving. Of course he only found out about her diminishing appetite because Noah complained, but he as the days progressed and his pains began to ease, he began to notice the changes in her as well.

His eyes ran over the freckles that stained her back. They were new, and had certainly only appeared a few days ago. It was either that, or he had simply only noticed them a few days ago. And were they spreading? Slowly, his eyes moved down the length of her arm as she slipped out of her dress. It seemed to him like they were, for some were now littered on her shoulders. Her neck also seemed longer —no doubt as a result of her minimal intake of food. And her shift? It was certainly loose around the waist, but it seemed to him like it was tight around the breasts. As a matter of fact —he thought as she slipped out of her shift as well— her breasts did seem larger. Unless of course, it only seemed that way because the rest of her body seemed thinner?

“Will you keep staring at me all evening?”

He lifted his eyes to find her smiling.

He shrugged, sitting up straighter with a little difficulty. “I am afraid, my darling, it is the only beautiful view I get nowadays, considering my dire situation of being trapped here.”

She giggled, crossing the room and settling on the edge of the bed by his side. She touched his face. “Oh Race, I'm simply happy you're alive. And, if all goes well, we will be back home really soon.”

He touched her arm that rested on his face. “I am afraid until Lord Wilson is caught, I shall not rest easy.”

A small frown settled on her face. “I do not believe he is in London, or England. Did not Camden tell you? The Constable believes him to have absconded. I only wish for you to let the matter rest, I would hate to lose you to his gun.”

“I would hate for him to get away with his crime.”

She released his face, her eyes falling to her knees. “I do not believe it possible, but I wish for you to forget it, to not look at me and be reminded of...”

Shifting forward, he placed his hand against the side of her face, halting her flow of words.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to him, tears glistening in them. “Perhaps you do not think you will get over what happened until he is dead? Perhaps you do not see me the same way you did, before I told you what happened?”

Her words tore at his heart. Pushing himself forward until he was sitting beside her, he swept her tears away. “Do you think I love you less than I did the night you told me what happened?”

She sniffed, nodding. “It certainly changes things. Not only did Lord Wilson ruin me, he tried to kill you as well.”

“He tried, yet he failed.”

She bowed her head. “He succeeded with me. It is all my fault, Race, I'm sorry.”

Reaching out, he lifted her chin up, until he was staring into her watery eyes. “Do you remember the first time I told you how I felt? The first time I said I loved you?” He waited for her nod. “It was right after I confessed to kissing Lady Carla.” He watched her for signs that she still held a grudge against him for his mistake, but all he saw in her eyes were tears. “It was one of two confessions,” Sighing, he sat up straighter as her brow rose in question. “I knew what happened to you that evening, Bianca.”