The Prizefighter’s Hart by Emily Royal
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Griffin sat in the corridor, outside one of the guest chambers. Behind the door, he heard the doctor’s voice, but though he strained to listen, he couldn’t hear his wife. After Sam had disappeared in search of the doctor, and Ned had marched Ogilvie off the premises, Griffin had carried her into the chamber and placed her on the bed. Her face was deathly pale, and a large bump was forming on the side of her head, a bruise darkening on the surrounding skin.
By the time the doctor arrived and shooed him out of the chamber, she still hadn’t stirred. What if she didn’t wake up? He’d seen enough fights to witness grown men being felled by a blow to the head and never waking up—or poor Jimmy Pierce last year, who’d seemed to recover after being knocked to the ground at the Queen’s Head, but had woken up a different man—frightened of his own shadow, and unable to fight again. He could have earned a fortune on the circuit—but a single blow had destroyed his life.
What if Thea—his beautiful wife—had also been destroyed?
A slim hand slipped into his and squeezed it.
“Try not to worry, Papa.”
Rowe’s soft words, spoken with love, unlocked the armor surrounding his heart, and the tears which he’d kept at bay began to fall. Why was it that a man could withstand all manner of horrors and adversity—yet a few gentle words of kindness could shatter his defenses?
“Oh, Rowe…”
She dipped her head and kissed his knuckles, and he winced as she brushed her lips over the broken skin.
“What will I do without her?” he whispered.
“Mama will recover.”
“Mama?”
“Yes,” Rowe said. “She’s the best mother in the world, and I love her.” She lifted her face and fixed him with her clear, brown gaze.
“And I love you, Papa.”
He pulled her to him—the child he’d always loved as his own, finally, loving him back as her father.
The door opened, and the doctor emerged, wiping his hands on a cloth.
Griffin stood, his heart thudding, and Rowe tightened her grip on his hand.
“Your wife’s conscious.”
“Oh, thank heaven!” Griffin moved toward the door, but the doctor blocked his path.
“Before you see her, I must speak with you, Mr. Oake.”
“Is something the matter?” Griffin asked.
“Her condition is such that she mustn’t be moved until I’m satisfied it’s safe to do so.” The doctor frowned, giving Griffin a look that reminded him of one of Thea’s—that of a disappointed adult admonishing a wayward child.
“I haven’t divulged her condition,” the doctor continued. “She’s already distressed, and in such cases, it’s usual to defer to the husband.”
In such cases? What the devil was wrong with her?
“No…” Griffin shook his head. “Not my Thea! What have I done to you, my darling?”
The doctor huffed through his nose. “Not the reaction I’d expected.”
“Will she be the same again?” Griffin asked. “Or is the damage permanent?”
“The damage?” The doctor rolled his eyes. “Your life will certainly change from now on, Mr. Oake, but not in the way you expect.”
Rowena gave a cry of delight.
“Ha!” the doctor said. “I see your daughter possesses greater wit than you.”
“Then my wife’s not maimed?”
The doctor’s gaze softened as he recognized the pain in Griffin’s voice. Then he placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, Mr. Oake,” he said. “Your wife is with child.”
*
Voices echoed inThea’s head, exacerbating the ache which throbbed behind her eyes. After poking and prodding her for what felt like hours, the doctor had covered her with a bedsheet and reassured her that she’d recover. He lacked the gentle, tender care of her sister-in-law Atalanta, but his crisp efficiency cut through her distress, and by the time he finished examining her, she found a semblance of calm at his words, delivered in a business-like tone.
Each time she tried to move, fiery agony ripped through her mind. But the doctor refused to give her any opiates—or anything at all, save a few sips of water.
The door opened, and the doctor appeared, flanked on either side by Griffin and Rowena.
Griffin turned to the doctor. “Leave us. This is a family matter.”
The doctor tutted. “Say nothing to distress your wife,” he said. “She needs complete rest. I won’t have her over-excited.”
A low growl reverberated in Griffin’s throat. “Do you want me to throw you out of the window?”
Thea smiled to herself. Her husband would never be a fine gentleman. He was a savage—a wild animal. But he was hers, and his primitive approach to protecting her made her feel safe and loved, as she’d never felt before.
The doctor dispatched, Griffin shut the door and approached the bed. Rowena sat on the other side and took Thea’s hand.
“Ogilvie’s gone,” Griffin said. “He’ll not be bothering us again.”
A bruise was already darkening on his cheekbone.
“Did he hurt you?” she asked, wincing as the pain in her head throbbed.
“Nothing I don’t deserve,” he said. “I only care about the hurt you’ve suffered.”
Rowena caressed Thea’s hand, her light fingertips as soft as silk.
“How are you feeling, Mama?”
Mama…
The girl’s eyes shone with love, and tears stung Thea’s eyes at the endearment.
“My head hurts,” she whispered. “The doctor won’t give me anything for it.”
Griffin lifted her hand to his lips, his warm breath caressing her skin. “He’s being careful, my love.”
“I want to go home,” she said.
“You can, but only when Doctor Pearson says it’s safe to move you.”
She smiled. “I thought my big brute of a husband didn’t take kindly to being given orders.”
“In this case, I’m prepared to obey every instruction, however irksome.” He exchanged a glance with Rowena, then smiled. “There’s someone else to consider, now.”
Why was he smiling when her head hurt so much?
“Are you going to tell her, Papa?” Rowena asked.
“Tell me what?” Thea whispered.
Griffin placed her hand over his heart.
“You’re going to be a mother.”
A spark of hope flared then died.
“You mean Rowena?”
He laughed softly. “Rowena is indeed your daughter,” he said. “No—you’re going to be a mother—again.”
She glanced at Rowena, who nodded and smiled, tears in her eyes.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Mama? I’m to have a brother—or a sister!”
“So, I’m…” She caught her breath, hardly daring to speak the words.
“Yes, my love,” he said. “You’re pregnant.”
He leaned over and brushed his lips against her forehead.
“I never thought I could be so happy,” he said. “What is wealth, or being the Mighty Oak, compared to a loving family? And now, with my beloved wife and daughter—and another on the way, I can truly say I’m the luckiest man alive. And though I regret the circumstances which forced us together—I will never regret you coming into my life.”
She tipped her face up, offering her lips for a kiss.
“Nor I, you.”