Lover Be Mine A Legendary Lovers Novel - By Nicole Jordan Page 0,101

the Traherne family seat in Kent, rather than at a London hotel. Not only was the splendid country estate larger and more peaceful than Jack’s London home, with more servants to care for an invalid—or a dying man, as the case might be—away from the summer heat and bustle of town, the arrangements would allow the newlyweds privacy at Beauvoir, where Jack had grown up.

The magnificent Beaufort family estate, situated not far from Tallis Court, was temporarily vacant, with Ash and Maura still away on their wedding journey, but close enough to allow for regular visits with the rest of the Wildes.

Jack would be glad to be spared his intrusive relatives living underfoot, for despite his love for them, he wanted the chance to begin his new life with Sophie without the constant bombardment of their well-meaning counsel and interference.

Just then, as if remembering his commitment at the hospital, Sophie cast a sleepy glance at the drawn window curtains. “How much time do we have left before you must leave?”

“Two hours, perhaps.”

He would vastly have preferred to remain in bed with his bride for the entire day, but he intended to be present for his father’s surgery to provide company and moral support. Jack would go to the hospital alone, and depending on a positive outcome, Sophie would join him later.

“Well then …” A soft, seductive smile claimed her mouth as she raised her arms to encircle his neck. “I think we should make the most of the time we have left,” she murmured, obviously sharing his thoughts.

Tightening his embrace, Jack rolled with her so that his body covered Sophie’s.

“My sentiments exactly,” he declared in a husky voice before lowering his head to capture her ripe lips.

With pleasure still singing in their veins, they eventually dragged themselves out of bed to bathe and dress and partake of breakfast. When he was ready to depart for Marlebone Hospital, Sophie gave Jack a good-luck kiss that he felt in every part of his body.

Good fortune seemed to be smiling on them. Four hours later, the surgery was complete and Jack was sitting at the bedside of his sleeping father, in a private room reserved for wealthy patients.

After much careful poking and prodding inside the wound and cutting away of putrid flesh, Mr. Geary had found a tiny sliver of wood from the huntsman’s arrow lodged in the rib-bone, no doubt the culprit that was poisoning Prince Raoul’s entire body.

After being stitched and poulticed and heavily dosed with laudanum to ease the pain, the prince was resting soundly now. Although he looked pallid and weak, he was believed to stand a strong chance of a full recovery, particularly given the novel blood-cleansing treatments Mr. Geary was becoming famous for.

As Jack watched his dozing father, he found himself recalling yet another early childhood memory—of him weeping from a skinned knee and his father consoling him.

He was returning the favor now, and the next hour gave Jack ample opportunity to think back on his childhood in Paris, before the happiness that filled his days had been crushed by the agonizing loss of his mother and the gruesome manner of her death, followed by his terrifying period of captivity.

The intervening years had helped Jack to distance himself from the pain, as had his reunion with his father, which was chiefly due to Sophie.

Recalling his mother’s joy each time his father arrived home after a long absence in Navartania reminded Jack of the joy he felt now, being wed to the lover of his heart. It was no surprise, therefore, that his heart rate quickened when Sophie arrived a short while later. Her passion-swollen lips were clear evidence of how they had spent their wedding night, but it was the unmistakable look of love in her eyes that made his breath catch.

She was accompanied by his entire family, who were still intent on rallying around him, Jack realized. Kate, Skye, and Lady Isabella had been escorted by Quinn and their Uncle Cornelius. Mrs. Pennant had come also, for she wanted to meet the prince and to wish him well.

Oddly enough, the cantankerous elderly widow seemed to get along well with the reclusive scholar, Lord Cornelius, despite their nearly twenty-year difference in age.

In deference to the sleeping invalid, the Wildes remained in the corridor outside his hospital room and conversed in hushed whispers, trying to remain quiet. But it was impossible to completely stifle their laughter as Kate and Skye told Mrs. Pennant of the cousins’ upbringing under