He raked his hands through his hair. What an idiot he’d been.

What a damn idiot.

He went to the kitchen and took a pail of hot water from the wide-eyed maid who’d been about to carry it upstairs. With a tremulous smile, he insisted he’d fill the bath as his wife wasn’t well enough to be disturbed. And he needed to do something, anything to still the quaking of his hands and quiet his mind.

He was the monster. To do this to her. To condemn someone fae-blooded to an iron cage. To betray someone he’d …

A knot blocked his throat as he poured the first pail of water into the copper bath by the fire in their room.

Shaking his head, he swallowed and dared to look at her again. She’d fallen asleep on her side, Barnacle curled up against her chest with her eyes alert, watching his movements.

He didn’t deserve any of it. To feel any way about Vee. To attempt to seek her forgiveness. To want to be worthy of her.

And after all this, she still might not make it safely away.

Once she was clean and dressed, they still had the journey to the Swallow. Then they had to leave port and hope no one raised the alarm. The Navy could easily blockade the Solent, prevent anyone departing, then they’d be stuck, and an escape over land would be far more difficult. Perhaps impossible.

Swallowing, he rose and nodded. He would help her escape. It was the only way to even begin to ease his heart and make what he’d done bearable.

More importantly, it was the only way she’d survive.

The Full Extent

By the time the bath was full and steaming with the heady scent of lavender and rosemary bath salts, Knigh had pulled himself together. It was simple. He’d get her out of Portsmouth, do anything she needed, be her willing servant. And, eventually, one day, maybe he’d be able to live with himself.

“Vee,” he murmured, brushing hair from her face, “your bath is ready.”

Her eyes remained shut, lashes dark against her cheeks. That burn above her temple was a startling, angry red against her horribly pale skin, but her lips had a little colour to them, and her skin didn’t feel as cold as it had earlier.

Barnacle stretched and sat up, tucking her tail around her paws neatly before looking up at him with baleful green eyes.

She knew what he’d done.

Yes, she was a cat, but that look …

Frowning, he shook his head and touched his knuckles to Vee’s cheek. “I know you probably don’t want to move, but it’ll warm you up, and we need to get you looking the part.” Of my wife.