Lydia

Nine

Lydia had no idea what time it was, but her growling stomach was what woke her up. At first, she could hardly open her eyes due to the brightness of the sun's glare as it shone through the window. After blinking a few times and squinting, she was finally able to open her eyes wide enough to look around the room.

Last night it had been too dark to see much of anything, and what she could see, she didn't want to take her gaze away from Nicholas' handsome face. But as comfort had filled her, she couldn't help but fall asleep in his arms. There was no place better than that.

But now, she wasn't in his arms, and she wasn't on the couch. She was lying on a soft bed with a quilt covering her. A small fire burned in the hearth, keeping the room toasty warm. She had no clue whose room this was, but she prayed they would allow her to stay here until body aching body recovered.

The scent of biscuits wafted through the air, and her stomach grumbled again. She smiled and thought about what she and Nicholas had discussed last night. She prayed she hadn't been dreaming. Of course, she'd find out soon once she climbed out of bed and searched for the kitchen to feed her hungry stomach.

Lydia threw off the quilt and carefully scooted to the edge of the bed. Her head still hurt, and moving only made it worse. She lifted her hand to the back of her head. Immediately, her fingers touched a bandage. Her thoughts stopped. When had this happened?

Gently, she explored her hair, and remarkably enough, it wasn't crusted over with dried blood. Had she somehow lost her memory of washing her hair and having her head bandaged?

The beat of her heart quickened as worry filled her. This was probably what poor Nicholas had felt while being drugged. However, keeping the Pinkerton agent asleep helped him recover faster. Perhaps she should sleep more, too. Then again, she needed food before that could happen.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Nicholas walked in, carrying a tray of food. When his gaze met hers, he smiled.

"Good morning, my darling Lydia."

Her heart melted from his endearment, and especially from realizing last night hadn't been a dream. They had expressed their feelings, and he wanted her in his life. "Good morning, Nicholas."

He motioned his head toward the bed. "Crawl back into bed so that you can eat your breakfast."

The thudding of her heartbeat increased. "Nicholas, you don't need to—"

"No," he interrupted. "I don't need to, but I want to." He winked.

Her heart continued to melt. This was a dream come true, and she feared it wouldn't last. Good things never lasted long in her life.

She did as he requested and scooted back onto the bed, sitting up against the pillows as she pulled the quilt over her legs. Nicholas rested the tray of food on her lap. Steam rose over the bowl of oatmeal, and next to it were three biscuits. Her stomach growled again.

"Oh, Nicholas." She peered deeply into his eyes. "You are wonderful."

He bent until his face was near to hers. Desire lit his eyes, making her pulse race even faster than before.

"No woman has ever told me that." His gaze dipped to her mouth. "I love it when you say it."

She couldn't decide which she wanted more – to eat or to kiss him. Her grumbling stomach made the choice, and he chuckled and stood.

"I hope you like oatmeal."

"Yes, I do." She took a bite. She'd eaten oatmeal most of her life, but for some reason, it tasted better knowing that it was made from Nicholas' caring hands. "Have you eaten?"