over the side of the bed. He handed her her glasses, and she slipped them over her nose. Her ears. The world came into comforting focus.
It was him. Steven. She took another breath. Another that didn’t shudder in her chest.
“It wasn’t a bad dream, was it? Stella and Sam?” she whispered. She closed her eyes, wishing it were a dream. Wishing it didn’t happen. “It was real.”
“It was real.”
Her eyes blinked open. “What are you doing here?”
“I slept here.”
“You slept…” She pushed her hair off her face, gathering her robe back to her neck. “Here?” she breathed.
“On the chair.”
“That couldn’t have been comfortable.” She glanced down and saw his stockinged feet. He wiggled his toes at her.
“I have spent worse nights.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Again. That seems to be all I keep saying to you.”
She wanted the fact that he’d spent the night by her bed to mean…more. To mean something. And it was awkward that it didn’t. It was awkward to want more than he could give.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“After noon.”
“After—” She was aghast. She hadn't slept past six in months. But it also seemed she hadn't slept through the night in a consistent way since Dr. Madison started his practice in her house.
“You needed it,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
“I am.” She felt empty and fuzzy-headed.
“I'll get you some breakfast,” he said and left the room.
She lay back down in her bed, staring up at the bright sun across her ceiling.
Somehow she'd gone from a nightmare to some kind of dream.
And she didn't want to wake up.
Later
, she thought.
I will wake up later
.
Her eyes slipped shut.
When she awoke again the sunlight was fading.
“My lord,” she breathed, peering into the dark corners of her bedroom. She'd been sleeping with her glasses on, and the world was in focus. “I slept the whole day?”
“It was an impressive commitment,” Steven said, standing up from the rocking chair in the corner.
“You've been here the whole time?” She sat up. “You must be exhausted.”
“I slept,” he said with a weary smile, indicating he hadn't.
The sensation in her chest at the sight of that smile. At the sight of him, rumpled and shaggy in her bedroom. So unkempt. Undone. It was startling.
She understood in a heartbeat that if she accepted this comfort, her attachment to him would become unbearable. It would be so much a part of her that she would never separate herself from her feelings.
Already it felt like too much. This moment felt like too much.
Her affection and her gratitude. The way her eyes continued to return to the sight of his wrists, revealed by the rolled cuffs of his shirt.
“You have done more than enough.” She was suddenly deeply aware of her undress. She wore her wrapper with nothing beneath it. Her breasts felt conspicuous. “You should go,” she said.
He just stared at her, unspeaking, from the corner.
“Steven. I really...I think you should leave.”
“Why?” he asked.
She blinked, astonished he would ask. “The railroad—”
“Doesn't need me.”
He said it with such surety she couldn't argue. “You... you were the one worried about my reputation.”
“And you were the one unconcerned. I find it hard to believe that after last night you're suddenly distressed about what people think of you. From all reports, you are a cross between a saint and a warrior.”
She pulled the quilt her mother made higher over her lap.
I only care what you think of me
, she could say.
And you made it clear what you think of me when you went to Delilah's last night.
Or she could tell him she loved him.
That would scare him right out the door.
“Please,” she whispered. “Go.” He did nothing. “GO!” she yelled.
“I went for you,” he said, softly. “To Delilah’s.”
Her mouth shut so hard her teeth clattered. She blinked, utterly still. Not even breathing. “What?”
“I went for you. So you
It was him. Steven. She took another breath. Another that didn’t shudder in her chest.
“It wasn’t a bad dream, was it? Stella and Sam?” she whispered. She closed her eyes, wishing it were a dream. Wishing it didn’t happen. “It was real.”
“It was real.”
Her eyes blinked open. “What are you doing here?”
“I slept here.”
“You slept…” She pushed her hair off her face, gathering her robe back to her neck. “Here?” she breathed.
“On the chair.”
“That couldn’t have been comfortable.” She glanced down and saw his stockinged feet. He wiggled his toes at her.
“I have spent worse nights.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Again. That seems to be all I keep saying to you.”
She wanted the fact that he’d spent the night by her bed to mean…more. To mean something. And it was awkward that it didn’t. It was awkward to want more than he could give.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“After noon.”
“After—” She was aghast. She hadn't slept past six in months. But it also seemed she hadn't slept through the night in a consistent way since Dr. Madison started his practice in her house.
“You needed it,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
“I am.” She felt empty and fuzzy-headed.
“I'll get you some breakfast,” he said and left the room.
She lay back down in her bed, staring up at the bright sun across her ceiling.
Somehow she'd gone from a nightmare to some kind of dream.
And she didn't want to wake up.
Later
, she thought.
I will wake up later
.
Her eyes slipped shut.
When she awoke again the sunlight was fading.
“My lord,” she breathed, peering into the dark corners of her bedroom. She'd been sleeping with her glasses on, and the world was in focus. “I slept the whole day?”
“It was an impressive commitment,” Steven said, standing up from the rocking chair in the corner.
“You've been here the whole time?” She sat up. “You must be exhausted.”
“I slept,” he said with a weary smile, indicating he hadn't.
The sensation in her chest at the sight of that smile. At the sight of him, rumpled and shaggy in her bedroom. So unkempt. Undone. It was startling.
She understood in a heartbeat that if she accepted this comfort, her attachment to him would become unbearable. It would be so much a part of her that she would never separate herself from her feelings.
Already it felt like too much. This moment felt like too much.
Her affection and her gratitude. The way her eyes continued to return to the sight of his wrists, revealed by the rolled cuffs of his shirt.
“You have done more than enough.” She was suddenly deeply aware of her undress. She wore her wrapper with nothing beneath it. Her breasts felt conspicuous. “You should go,” she said.
He just stared at her, unspeaking, from the corner.
“Steven. I really...I think you should leave.”
“Why?” he asked.
She blinked, astonished he would ask. “The railroad—”
“Doesn't need me.”
He said it with such surety she couldn't argue. “You... you were the one worried about my reputation.”
“And you were the one unconcerned. I find it hard to believe that after last night you're suddenly distressed about what people think of you. From all reports, you are a cross between a saint and a warrior.”
She pulled the quilt her mother made higher over her lap.
I only care what you think of me
, she could say.
And you made it clear what you think of me when you went to Delilah's last night.
Or she could tell him she loved him.
That would scare him right out the door.
“Please,” she whispered. “Go.” He did nothing. “GO!” she yelled.
“I went for you,” he said, softly. “To Delilah’s.”
Her mouth shut so hard her teeth clattered. She blinked, utterly still. Not even breathing. “What?”
“I went for you. So you
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