The Countess by Catherine Coulter

blessed light, into freedom, but I felt that blankness drawing at me. I wanted

to cry out against it, but I only managed to say, “I am so very sorry. It seems

I’m not quite ready to come back.”

“No, no, don’t leave me again, Andy.”

But I knew I had no choice. Everything just went away from me again, I couldn’t

stop it, and I sighed and closed my eyes.

I heard Peter say, “I will get Dr. Boulder. He is with her father.”

John said slowly, “No, she doesn’t need him. She will be all right. Look, she’s

breathing easily. I think she’s just asleep.” And I felt him kiss my mouth, and

say, “I must rub some cream on her lips. They’re dry.”

And I laughed to myself. When, sometime later, I heard his beloved voice again,

I knew my mouth was very soft now.

I opened my eyes. This time I kept them open.

Chapter Thirty-two

Deerfield Hall Three Months Later

He came to me at Deerfield Hall in early March. It was still cold, more snow

swirling on the horizon, ready to blanket the moors, and the Yorkshire winds

howled at night.

I saw him standing in the doorway, his hair windblown, wearing riding clothes,

and he looked healthy and brown and very big. Too young and strong, I thought,

and smiled at him.

“It is time,” he said, striding toward me.

And so it was.

Peter gave me away, and our local vicar married us. It was a quiet ceremony,

with only our families in attendance and many of our people from both Deerfield

Hall and Devbridge Manor.

It was a lovely time, that day. So much merriment and drinking a delicious

champagne punch that Peter made himself. And everyone laughed and smiled and

wished us well. My little sister even snagged a glass of champagne, thanks to

Amelia.

We remained at Deerfield Hall that first night of our married lives.

I will never forget John’s first words to me when he walked into my bedchamber

to see me lying in the bed wearing a white nightgown with its ribbons tied under

my chin, and George clutched to my chest. I was staring at his bare feet,

knowing that he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on beneath that nice blue

velvet dressing gown he was wearing belted at his waist.

He stopped six feet from the bed and said, “I swear to you that I will always

love you. You are my wife and will soon be my lover, and together we will share

everything there is for a man and a woman to share together. I pray we will have

children, an equal number of each, I hope.

“I will never betray you. Now, George, come here to me. She doesn’t need your

protection.”

And George bounded off the end of the bed and jumped up so John could pick him

up.

I was scared, though, I couldn’t help it, but John knew what I was feeling, and

between very light kisses, he said into my mouth, “In no more than three minutes

from now, you will want to sing you will feel so very nice and then you will

laugh, and perhaps even yell. I am going to give you pleasure, Andy, and you are

going to enjoy yourself immensely. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I said. “I trust you.” I believe I sang an army ditty within two minutes,

not three. And when, at last, he came into me, I tensed a moment at the pain,

then wept at the wondrous pleasure.

I did yell. As I recall, so did he.

*****

One Month Later

Venice, Italy

Palazzo Dolfin Manin

John held me close, rocking me, as was his habit. I loved to be held by him. I

also loved Venice, the dark rich feel of it, the romantic smiling gondoliers who

came by each day to sing up to me and wave.

It was April, the weather so sublime even the locals could talk of little else,

other than their endless rounds of parties, balls, masquerades, their gambling,

their newest lovers, of course.

It was thankfully too early for the ripe summer smells that could send a man to

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