Page 132 of Aurelia

Roland nodded slowly. “I will think about it.”

***

To say that Roland was a terrible patient was an understatement. He was a relentless nag when it came to getting out of bed. If somebody was not with him every moment, he would be found hobbling the corridors on his crutches—which they eventually had to hide from him—instead of obeying his doctor’s orders and resting.

Aurelia, Guustin, and Celsa divided up the days and took turns as Roland’s gaoler. Every day it became harder to keep him off his feet.

Today marked the four-week point after the bone had been set and Aurelia suspected it would be impossible to deny him his crutches for much longer.

Aurelia had worked in her studio that morning, but it was now her turn to sit with Roland until late tonight, when Guustin would take over.

When she approached Roland’s chambers she heard laughter. She set her ear to the door and heard a delighted female giggle, joined by one of Roland’s distinctive bellows of laughter.

Aurelia could not help grinning at the sound. One good thing to come out of Arthur’s murderous behavior was the new relationship that had grown between Celsa and Roland.

Six evenings ago, Roland had told Celsa that Arthur was her father.

Celsa had not been as surprised as they had all feared. As Guustin had feared, Arthur had been manipulating the girl for years, controlling her in subtle ways and encouraging her to act out against Roland.

It would likely take years for Celsa to get over the damage Arthur had inflicted, but Aurelia was glad she at least knew the truth about her heritage.

Already Celsa was a far less combative, prickly young woman to everyone around her. And she and Roland were greatly enjoying their time together.

Another burst of laughter came from beyond the door and Aurelia tiptoed away; Celsa needed this time with her father. Aurelia would come back in an hour and relieve her.

In the meantime, she could get to work on the letters she had yet to send to her family. With Roland recuperating, there was little chance of accepting her sister Phoebe’s invitation to come home to Wych House for the last half of December.

Aurelia would have loved to spend Christmas with everyone, but even if Roland was better what about Guustin? If she invited him—not as odd as it sounded as Phoebe’s husband’s illegitimate daughter lived with them—then what about Nora? If her son left, she would be all alone for the holiday.

It was a conundrum. But she had to write something, even though there was so much that she simply did not want to discuss in a letter—if ever.

Aurelia sighed and sat down at the desk in her room and took out a sheet of paper. She would simply say the work was at a critical juncture and she could not come home at this point. Maybe, after Roland was better and things had been sorted out here, she could tell her family the truth.

She dipped the quill into the inkwell and drafted the first of the five letters she would need to write.

***

“Look,” Roland said to Aurelia a week later, tugging the blanket off his legs, lifting his foot, and wiggling his toes. “I am better,” he said, biting back a wince. “I am certainly well enough to stand beside you in the chapel and get married.” He lowered his eyelid. “And I am more than well enough to lie beside you, or on top of you, or beneath you, or—”

“Roland,” Aurelia said, her lips pursing in that prim way that did nothing to alleviate the constant erection he had been suffering for weeks.

Roland had repeatedly attempted to convince his stern, serious lover that a broken leg did not mean his cock was not functioning, but she had been remarkably firm on the subject. A firm Aurelia was almost as arousing as a chastising, scolding Aurelia.

He was utterly captivated by his betrothed and thoughts of her consumed his days and nights.

Although being in love was thrilling, Roland was grateful that he had not been struck by Ero’s arrow twenty years ago. If he had, he never would have looked at another insect or animal again. Never had anything interested him more than nature. Never.

“We are getting married in two days, Aurelia. Two.”

“How in the world will your friends get here in two days?”

He muttered a curse beneath his breath, mulling over the possibility of not inviting Lampton and Shield and their wives. Roland had known both men for years and had gone on more than one expedition with them. He’d not had even one guest of his choosing at either of his prior weddings and had looked forward to introducing Aurelia to the men and their wives, who were delightful, intelligent women.

Roland looked at Aurelia’s patiently waiting face and sighed. “Fine. We will marry in a week. That will give Lampton and Shield plenty of time to get here.”

Aurelia looked dubious at that claim but nodded.

He gave her a stern look. “We are getting married in seven days even if I have to carry you to the chapel.” He paused and smiled. “I like that thought.”