Just One Touch
Page 27
“Stop!” Rogan barked, flinging out an arm to hold back Archer. He gazed at his wife, at the fear in her eyes. “Don’t move, any of you.”
“Do you have a man in the garden?” Randall taunted Docket. “Are your men even now prowling through the hedge maze down below? Somehow I don’t think so.” He hauled Caroline closer, glanced over the edge of the railing. “I believe I can manage to land safely on those hedges there. Of course if I don’t, Lady Caroline will break my fall.”
Rogan stepped forward. “Randall, don’t.”
Randall’s eyes narrowed. “I believe the proper form of address is ‘Your Grace,’ Hunt. Have you no respect for your betters?”
Rogan pushed back the rage that urged him to leap forward. “Your Grace,” he choked out, realizing finally that Randall was not quite sane. “Please don’t harm my wife.”
“How the mighty have fallen,” Randall chuckled. “Now I suggest you and Mr. Docket and Mr. Archer step back. We wouldn’t want me to accidentally let Lady Caroline fall.”
Rogan glanced at the other two men and waved them back. Docket fell back obediently, but Archer held his gaze for a long moment before following suit. Rogan looked back at Randall. “There. Now release my wife.”
“I don’t know,” Randall mused with a taunting grin. “I—” He gasped suddenly, his eyes bugging. He glanced at Caroline, then at the men around him. His face grew very, very red. His entire body began to shake.
Rogan surged forward, but not in time.
And he watched in horror as Randall’s eyes rolled back in his head, and both he and Caroline tipped over the edge of the railing, her scream of terror ripping through his heart as she vanished from sight.
Chapter 22
Rogan paced outside Caroline’s bedroom, glancing up every few moments in hopes that the door would open. But it remained firmly closed. Gregson leaned against the wall nearby, quiet and subdued.
“Still no word?” Colin came down the hall, concern etched on his face.
“No.” Rogan cast yet another frustrated glance at the door. “What could be taking so long?”
“Easy, brother.” Colin squeezed Rogan’s shoulder in a surprising gesture of solidarity. “She’s alive, that’s what matters.”
“Which is more than I can say for Althorpe.” Rogan turned away from the firmly closed door, images of that morning’s horror still fresh in his brain. “I nearly died myself when Caroline went over that railing.”
“It was horrible,” Gregson whispered.
Colin glanced at the secretary. “What’s with him?”
“I don’t know. He’s been like that since it happened.” With barely a glance at the young man, Rogan began his pacing again.
Colin leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “It’s a good thing she landed in that hedge.”
“It broke the fall,” Rogan agreed, “but she’s still unconscious.”
“Have some faith,” Colin said. “If she had fallen a few inches to the left, she would have landed on the stone path like Althorpe. Is it true he went completely mad?”
“I don’t know what happened,” Rogan said. “He started spewing nonsense like a bedlamite, then collapsed as if he’d contracted apoplexy.”
“Maybe it was something he ate,” Gregson said.
Rogan and Colin both looked at the pale young man. “What are you talking about?” Rogan asked.
“Maybe His Grace ate something that didn’t agree with him.” The young man shrugged. “Or drank something.”
The implication hit Rogan like a blow to the chest. “You put something in his coffee.”
“He deserved it,” Gregson whispered. “After what he did to His Grace.”
Rogan narrowed his eyes at Malcolm. “You poisoned him, and now my wife might die.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” the young man explained, anguish in his eyes. “I used something that would affect him quickly, but I had intended for it to happen after we left.”
Rogan clenched his fists, the urge to hit something almost more than he could bear.
“He was trying to right a wrong,” Colin said softly. “He made the wrong choice, but his heart was in the right place.”
“I’m sorry,” Gregson said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to Lady Caroline.”
“If something does happen to her,” Rogan said tightly, “you had best run farther than America.”
He closed his eyes and turned away from the guilt-ridden young man, the events of the morning replaying themselves in his head. When he and Archer and Docket had come upon Althorpe’s broken body, Randall’s skull crushed like ripe fruit, his heart had very nearly failed him. He’d caught sight of Caroline’s skirt in the hedge nearby, and he’d all but torn the shrubbery to bits to get to her.
She’d lain so still, looked so pale. He’d been certain she was dead.
It was Docket who’d pulled him away when he would have crushed her in his arms. It was Archer who’d checked for her pulse and said the words that brought Rogan’s world back into alignment with a snap. “She’s alive.”
Relief had flooded him, stealing the strength from his limbs. He’d sat on the ground, cradling his wife in loving arms while Docket summoned some servants and set about cleaning up the mess that had once been Randall Althorpe. Through it all Gregson had watched, white-faced, clearly frozen with shock. Archer had sent for the Belvingham carriage and had also dispatched an urgent messenger to Dr. Raines when Rogan insisted on taking her home to her own bed. Dr. Raines had arrived with all haste and banned everyone from the room while he examined Caroline.
And Rogan slowly went mad while he waited to hear if she would live or die.
He looked at his brother, taking comfort in the connection of family. “If anything happens to her…” He couldn’t finish, the words clogging his throat.
“Don’t borrow trouble,” Colin advised, just as the door opened.
Dr. Raines smiled at Rogan. “She’s awake and asking for you.”
Suddenly he could breathe again. In the corner, Gregson made gave a weak moan of relief. “Is she all right?”
“She’s bruised, and she’s broken her wrist. She also took a nasty blow to the head on the way down, so I’d like her to stay in bed for a day or two. But all in all, she’ll be right as rain.”
“Thank God.” Rogan closed his suddenly stinging eyes. “Can I see her?”
“I just said you could.” The doctor moved aside as Rogan charged into the bedroom.
Caroline lay propped up against the pillows in her night rail. She was still pale, and her right wrist was bandaged. But she managed a weak smile when she saw him, and her dark eyes were full of love.
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, clasped her uninjured hand between both of his. “Dear God, Caroline,” he rasped and buried his face against their clasped hands.
“Rogan,” she whispered, her heart nearly breaking with love as she felt the tear that trickled over their joined hands. “It’s all right. I’m all right.”
“I nearly lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me. I love you.”
He looked up at her, and the sight of this strong, powerful man with moisture clinging to his eyelashes squeezed her heart. “I love you, Caroline. You’ve changed my life, made me unafraid to feel again.”
“You brought me back to life,” she replied. “You taught me to trust and to love and so many other things. I was alone in darkness before you came into my life.”
He chuckled. “What a pair we are.” He pressed a kiss to hand.
“We’re a team,” she corrected. She reached out with her bandaged hand and touched his hair. “We’ll raise horses and babies together. Create a new Hunt legacy for future generations.”
He smiled at her, clearly enjoying her touch. “What did I ever do to deserve a woman like you?”
She smiled. “You rode out of the darkness and saved me.”
“No,” he correc
ted with a tender smile. He gazed at her for a long moment, his heart in his eyes. “You saved me. Thank you, love.”
She cupped his face with her bandaged hand, her lips curving in loving gentleness. “You’re welcome.”
About the Author
I have wanted to be a writer ever since I was a girl, when I used to write stories about my favorite television show, starring my friends as supporting characters. Over the years, I dreamed of someday being published so I could share my stories with the world. Now that dream has come true.
I love to hear from readers. Check out my website at
www.debramullins.com.
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By Debra Mullins
JUST ONE TOUCH
THREE NIGHTS…
A NECESSARY BRIDE
A NECESSARY HUSBAND
THE LAWMAN’S SURRENDER
DONOVAN’S BED
ONCE A MISTRESS
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
JUST ONE TOUCH. Copyright © 2005 by Debra Mullins Manning. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition December 2007 ISBN 9780061746062
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