SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: WAR OF HEARTS BY RUELLE.
Silas was indeed a handsome man by any standard. His face had a certain softness when relaxed, yet it never betrayed the sharp lines and angles cut from stone. The muscle in his jaw worked, drawing attention to its strength.
This man before her—lowering himself to care for her—had been the one to nearly unravel her.
She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought. She wasn't dead. She could still feel, but what he had done to her there baffled her. Her body had betrayed her. But his hands had felt so warm, his caress a fire, his gaze that of a predator.
This viscount was dangerous. Nothing innocent about him. He certainly knew his way around a woman's body.
It made her wonder—was it because she hadn't been with a man's touch for so long? Theodore had been her focus for years, her desires secondary. Was that why she had reacted so strongly to him?
Lucinda could still feel her body tingle from his touch. She couldn't let this happen again. She mustn't.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice when Silas spoke, his hands unwrapping her bandages—until she felt the brush of his cool skin on the underside of her breasts. She stilled, and so did he. Her back straightened when she realized with dread that Silas was behind her.
Her heart pounded against her chest. But surprisingly, after a beat, he continued unwrapping her bandages.
She held her breath, her mind whirling as he cleaned and changed them. Why hadn't he said anything? Had he not seen it?
Silas stared at Lucinda's back. He had expected to clean her stitches, but nothing prepared him.
Her back was filled with marks and burns. His eyes scanned over them, his muscles suddenly feeling taut.
"Who did this?" he asked, his gaze never straying from the blemishes marring her beautiful, soft skin.
Silas didn't think it was possible for her to stiffen more than she already had.
Slowly, he reached out, skimming his fingers along her naked back.
"I don't need to know what happened. I just need a name, Lucinda," he hoped he had spoken calmly enough to ease her.
A name would be enough.
She didn't say anything for a long moment. Just as he was about to give up, she spoke.
"Would you believe me if I told you it was just a guess?"
"Anything," he breathed, his fingers still tracing her scars gently. He felt her loosening.
All she had to do was name someone—point, guess—and they would pay. Whoever it was didn't matter.
She turned slightly, her gaze falling on the still-sleeping Theodore, his face peaceful in slumber. He almost smiled at the sight, but his muscles were too tense. His body felt too hot.
His eyes strained.
"It was an attempt on Theodore's life."
At that statement, Silas's head snapped back to the back of her head. His fists clenched on his lap. He almost rose, the need for revenge pulsing through his veins, but he stopped. He had a feeling that would only make her shut down.
Gently, he continued tracing her back in a calming motion.
"He was only a few months old then. I woke up one night to the news that Theodore's chambers were on fire."
His eyes blazed, already knowing where this was going. Against his better judgment, hearing her hitch a breath, he drew closer to her.
"I would never forget that night. His room was ablaze—I knew the help would come too late."
"Lucinda…" he exhaled, gripping her arms in a silent show of strength. He could feel her slipping back into the memory.
"I… did what I had to do. I ran into the flames and got my baby boy."
She reached out, caressing Theodore's head as if to assure herself he was still there.
"…But before we could leave, a beam came crashing down—" She paused, then shook her head. "Theodore's safe. That's all that ever mattered."
She said it with finality, not once turning to him.
His anger was pushed aside. Lucinda didn't need that now. He would be what she needed.
So, he wordlessly rested his head against her back.
He didn't need her to say the name anymore. Halfway through, he realized it had been Valerie's doing.
How long had she tormented their lives?
He felt Lucinda's soothing heartbeat and closed his eyes.
"Whatever you need, I'm here," he declared with a gentle squeeze. "You're brave, Lucinda. So brave."
He didn't know whether she cried silently then or simply pressed her lips together. She gave nothing away.
"I'm glad, Lucinda. So glad. I thought I lost you—both of you." He shook his head against her back. "I don't know what I would have done."
"What a relief." His voice seemed to be carried by the wind. Broken.
He reached for her hand atop Theodore's head and caressed it.
They were his. The promise had been signed by his initials. His lips stretched as his head sought solace against her back.
As dawn broke, the sun rose slowly, filling the cracks in the curtains with bursts of light. Silas leaned against the wall, arms crossed beside the bed, and stared at the mother and child.
He had to tear himself away from them. His bed had never felt so warm.
The thought brought a frown to his brows, his eyes never leaving the dark waves of Lucinda's hair.
They were curled together on the mattress, as one. It made him realize how they only needed each other.
It made him realize how they didn't really need him.
He pushed off the wall and chuckled to himself as he left.
As soon as the door shut, Lucinda opened her eyes. She stared absentmindedly at the sleeping Theodore.
She had fallen asleep shortly after recounting the experience to Silas. He had given her a pain-relieving vial, and she found it strange how he had avoided her gaze then.
They had fought into the night about him sleeping with her and Theodore. He had won sometime late in the night, leaving Lucinda drowsy, her speech slurring.
The last thing she remembered was leaning on him. Her body in a warm, comfortable hum.
Then, she had woken up later to the feeling of Silas's fingers in her hair.
She hadn't had the strength to stop him, she told herself. Not because it felt good. Not because she liked it.
And definitely not because her inner child needed it.
But she couldn't bring herself to sleep either. She was frozen in time. His heartbeat and warm chest against her scarred back, her limbs like liquid.
In just a moment, she would push him off. She told herself this countless times as the clock ticked.
But she hadn't.
Her arm had gone numb from holding the same position for hours, but she had silently endured it.
Until his heat no longer surrounded her.
Until only his gaze remained—a caress—before he was gone.
Only then did she slip away again into a dreamless sleep.
Theodore woke up before Lucinda and propped himself against the headboard beside her. He ran his hand through her hair, smiling down at her.
He had woken up last night to his mama and papa—his parents pressed together beside him.
He had watched them, unnoticed, with a soft smile.
Three consecutive knocks sounded before someone pushed in. It was a couple of maids. They bowed in greeting when they saw him awake.
Theodore put his finger to his lips to quiet them, and they couldn't help but crack a smile at his innocent gesture.
Theodore wasn't aware, but he looked a mess. His mama had stripped him of most of his clothing while he was still asleep, and his springy dark hair looked like a bird's nest. It was charmingly adorable against his childish, serious face.
Lucinda stirred awake as they began to open the curtains.
She blinked up at Theodore, to his cheery greeting and that of the maids.
"Would you like us to draw your bath, mistress?" an older woman in a more formal maid uniform asked, her graying hair pulled into a tight low bun.
"No, that's alright," Lucinda said, sitting up with a little wince.
Seeing Lucinda's pointed stare, the woman bowed again. "I'm Estella, the housekeeper and head maid."
Lucinda nodded in acknowledgment.
Nora, the other maid, stepped up. "How are you feeling, mistress?"
"Should we call for the lord or the physician?"
Lucinda waved her off.
Her voice was scratchy. "No, none of that." A maid poured a cup of water for her.
"And where is the viscount?" The maids were puzzled again at the use of such a formal address for their master. Were they wrong? Wasn't this their master's woman?
"He is in his office, seeing to official matters of the estate. Should we call for him?"
Lucinda shook her head again, holding Theodore as he pressed into her.
A thought suddenly crossed her mind.
"Have someone—"
The double doors were abruptly barged open. The maids squealed.
"Where is she?!" a man roared, fighting through two guards into the room. Many more swarmed in, pointing their weapons at him.
Lucinda saw him before he did.
"Connor?!"
Connor stood in a battle-ready stance, his sword drawn, his eyes red. Wild with desperation, his gaze landed on her, recognition dawning. He rushed forward but stopped short at the blades quickly pointed at his neck.
Lucinda quickly interjected, "I know him! Stand down!"
They hesitated but obeyed, drawing back to give them space—though still remaining alert.
Connor wrapped Lucinda up in his arms. "You're alright! Thank goodness."
Lucinda was startled by his sudden show of affection. He had always been a hovering mother hen, but as she had come of age, he had refrained from physical contact, worried about compromising his lady's honor.
So this embrace felt warm. And it took her aback.
Theodore ran to their side.
"Uncle Connor!!"
Lucinda laughed, remembering Theodore never called him that.
Connor squeezed him into their embrace and kissed both their foreheads.
"How did you find us?" Lucinda questioned as soon as he stepped back.
Then his once-relieved, happy expression twisted into anger just as the guards stepped aside.
It revealed Silas and Frederick entering the chamber.
Before anyone could react, Connor had already rebranded his sword and pointed it at Silas's throat.
"Give me a reason right now why I shouldn't cut you down!" he roared at Silas.