She slid her arms around him and leaned into an embrace. “I am sorry. I ought not have said that.”
“No. No, you are right to remind me of the burden you face.”
“Burden?” Jane snorted and squeezed his ribs where he was most sensitive. Vincent gave an involuntary laugh and twisted away. Jane pursued, tickling her impossible husband until she chased him into a corner. “You are the only burden I carry. Do not even contemplate coddling me, or treating me like delicate china, or shutting me up in this cabin.”
Breathless, he held up his hands in surrender. “No! No. I cry mercy.”
“Do you promise to continue on as if my health were unchanged?”
For a fraction of a second he hesitated. Jane made a move towards his ribs. With a nervous laugh, Vincent caught her hand. “I promise not to treat you like a delicate china cup, but you must allow me room for some solicitude. Please, Muse?”
“Hm.”
“Fetching your tea. Warming your slippers by the fire. That sort of thing.”
“As we shall be in the West Indies, I very much doubt I shall want my slippers warmed.”
“We will not be there when your confinement comes. I shall see you safely back in England long before then.” He raised a hand and traced the line of her cheek. “Are you…? I recall that you were unhappy during the first … before. Will you let me do what I can to make you content this time?”
Jane pulled his head down and kissed his cheek. The rough brush of whiskers told her he had not yet shaved that morning. They tickled her as he pulled her deeper into an embrace. She sighed, settling against him. “Vincent, the last time we had been married but three months, and I had not known you for long. It was my first time away from home and family. I was terrified and uncertain in ways that are well in our past. While I do not relish that my condition requires me to give up glamour for months, it is the best possible timing for such a prohibition. We would have little opportunity to practise our art due to the mourning period for Princess Charlotte. I have better reserves now, and plans for how to occupy my time.”
“You are a wonder, Muse.” His voice rumbled in his chest as he pulled her tighter. “What are these bold plans of yours?”
“First, I thought I might write a book.”
“A book, eh? A novel such as Melody reads, perhaps? Full of young women pining for arrogant men?”
“Oh, no. While I would argue that I have some experience regarding arrogant men, I thought to indulge in my own interests and write a book about glamour.”
He ran a hand down her spine and settled it at the small of her back. “I approve of this plan.”
“Good, since I do not know that you have much say in the matter.” Jane trifled with one of the buttons on his waistcoat.
He chuckled. “You said ‘first,’ which implies you have other plans.”
“I thought to paint, since the landscape of Antigua will be new to me. And also to work on my music. Perhaps I will finally learn the harp.” Jane worked the button free and felt a certain subtle shift in Vincent’s posture. “And attend to my husband’s needs, of course.”
He cleared his throat. “Is that safe?”
Jane undid another button. “His papers and correspondence? I shall be certain to take care when sharpening his quill.”
He groaned. “Muse, you are at times wicked.”
She tilted her head up to kiss the tender part of his neck below the line of his jaw. “I learned that from you, Rogue.”
“I would argue against your case.”
The remainder of their argument took place without much language, and through their combined efforts Jane and Vincent were able to resolve any marital difficulties that arose.
*