“The cur deserved it.”
Rushing to kneel beside Blair, Gina stroked his hair and spoke soft words of comfort that she feared he couldn’t hear. She wondered almost idly, what Jarred might do now, but she didn’t much care, for Blair was surely dead.
But then Blair groaned.
“Thank God! He’s alive!” She turned to Jarred who watched impassively. “Help me get him to a doctor. Please Jarred.”
He didn’t move.
“I know you lit the fire in my room. You are a true hero.” Gina spoke quickly. “You can have all the money and anything else you want. We’ll say no more about it, but please, please help me get Blair down to the carriage. He needs a doctor.”
Jarred moved forward and bent over Blair. He shook his head. “He won’t last the night.”
“He won’t if you don’t help us,” she cried, aware that Jarred was thinking through his future. Perhaps he thought himself better off if she and Blair were dead too. But she would not allow herself to believe it. She would not give up. Jumping up she took his hand, peering into his dark unfathomable eyes. “You are a brave man. A decent one. You cannot refuse me. You know I am your friend and will do nothing to hurt you.”
Jarred pushed past her and effortlessly scooped up Blair’s inert form, throwing him over his shoulder.
“Oh, bless you, Jarred.” Gina rushed to open the door. She followed him down the interminable stone stairs. Blair lay disturbingly still hanging from Jarred’s shoulder. The moonlight shone through narrow slits in the stone alighting on his deathly-pale face.
On the next level, Jarred pulled aside a large tapestry hanging on the wall. A door lay behind it. He went inside a stone passage and down a narrow stairway.
Finally, they reached the bottom. They emerged near the sea the castle looming above them. Without speaking, he climbed the steps to the road where he laid Blair down on the frosty ground. “Wait here, lass.” He disappeared into the castle by a small door.
Gina waited, hugging Blair close, attempting to warm him. She tried to take comfort in the fact that he still lived while his breath emerged from his slack lips as steam. It gave her hope but she was very, very frightened. It seemed like an hour before the drawbridge rattled open and the carriage emerged from the castle.
Jarred was alone. He jumped down and hefted Blair as if he was a feather-weight instead of a big man and laid him inside the carriage.
“Oh, be careful, please,” Gina begged, fearful that rough treatment would cause him to bleed more heavily. Already his life’s blood ebbed away at an alarming rate. She climbed in beside him and settled his head on her lap. Her teeth chattered in the bitter cold. She used the hem of her gown to staunch the flow of blood. Blair’s eyes were closed. As his chest rose with each breath, she sent up a prayer of thanks. He lived.
Jarred lit the coach lamps and jumped up on the box. He slapped the reins. The
horses whickering at being thrust out into the cold in the dead of night, galloped over the coast road. Soon, the dark bulk of the castle disappeared from sight.
“Help won’t be long, my darling.” Gina pressed against the wound more firmly. “We’re taking you to a doctor.” But where was Jarred taking them? She wished she felt more confident that there was a doctor at the end of this mad dash.
They traveled at a bone-jarring pace along the cliff, which in the dark, became doubly dangerous. One miscalculation on Jarred’s part, and they would all join the earl in the roiling waters below.
The road seemed interminable. They’d been traveling for almost half an hour when Blair began to stir and murmur.
“Soon, my darling.” Gina said chaffed his cold hands. “Not long now.”
At last, around a bend, the bridge over the river came into view. The carriage clattered over the stones. Ahead, the tiny fishing village was still and peaceful under the moon.
Entering the village, Jarred drove the carriage down one narrow lane after another. He pulled the horses up outside a small, stone cottage. Someone was there, for candlelight flickered in its windows.
Jarred opened the carriage door and pulled Blair roughly out onto the road. Blair groaned in pain as Gina stumbled to the ground and knelt to help him. Jarred thumped on the door with his fist. Without waiting for anyone to answer his knock, he ran back to the carriage.
“You’re not leaving us?” Gina cried.
Jarred didn’t answer. Jumping up, he cracked the whip over the horses and the carriage rattled away into the darkness. With growing despair, Gina watched him go.
The door opened, throwing an arc of lantern light over the road. A grey-haired man with his shirt sleeves rolled up, took the pipe from his mouth and stared at her. “What’s this to do, lass?”
“Blair’s been shot. Please, please help him.” She jumped up to grasp at the man’s waistcoat.
He removed her fingers. “There, there. No need for that. Help me get him inside to the light.” He leant over Blair, and grasped him under the arms, “Doesn’t look too good, poor man.”
She took hold of Blair’s legs, struggling with his weight. They carried him into the cottage and laid him on a settee. A black iron stove in the fireplace radiated heat warming the room. Gina’s tense cold body began to thaw and she swayed dizzily.
“Are you a doctor?” she asked, praying that he was. He seemed so calm and sure, it gave her hope.
The man stripped Blair’s shirt away. “I am.”
“Will he be alright?”
“He’s lost a lot of blood.”
She watched as the doctor examined the wound. “The bullet’s still in there,” he said. “It will have to come out. I’ll get my things.” He glanced at her. “You’d better sit down before you fall down, my dear.”
Relieved that he didn’t ask questions, Gina sank down beside Blair. She gasped when Blair stirred, but he didn’t wake. She stroked his forehead, finding it warm. A bolt of fear at the prospect of infection shook her. “You are going to be fine, my love. Just fine,” she whispered.
The wound below his shoulder still bled heavily, despite her attempts to staunch the flow.
The doctor returned carrying a bag. Opening it, he took out a scissor-like instrument and went to the wood stove where a kettle simmered. He thrust it into the fire. Taking a bowl down
from the shelf, he poured boiling water into it and stirred the instrument in the water. He wiped it on a clean folded cloth he took from a drawer.
Returning, he took a bottle from his bag and poured a little of it onto a cloth. He held the material under Blair’s nose. Blair grasped his wrist, then he went limp, sagging back against the cushions.
“Just a whiff. It will put him out for a little while. You hold him still, lass.”
The doctor thrust the instrument deep into the bloody hole. Blair’s body jerked and Gina held him down with every ounce of her strength.
For several strained minutes Gina could barely watch.
“That’s right, good.” The doctor withdrew the instrument and the wound bled even more freely. “Press hard on there, lass.” The doctor dropped the bullet into a bowl with a clang.
Gina pressed firmly over the wound with the pad of cotton.
The doctor massaged his fingers. “Now, I’ll clean him up and bandage him. When he comes to, we’ll move him to a bed.”
“I am so beholden to you, doctor.” Gina wiped away a tear.
“Don’t thank me till we see if he lives.” His grey eyes studied her from behind his spectacles. He nodded toward the stove. “Make us a cup of tae, will you, lass?”
She jumped up, glad to have something to do. “I’ll be pleased to.”
“Put some honey in it. And there’s a tin of bannocks and cheese on the shelf.”
“I couldn’t eat...” she began.
“You’ve had a nasty shock. Just a nibble with the hot drink will set you to rights,” he said kindly. “You must stay strong for your lad, now, mustn’t you?”
She nodded and busied
herself making the tea.
Blair didn’t stir as the doctor wound the bandage around his shoulder. “And while you are making the hot drink, you can tell me how all this came about.”
Gina took cups down from their hooks. She didn’t want Jarred to get into trouble. “The Earl of Douglass shot him,” she said. “It happened as he tripped and fell over the parapet.”
He raised his shaggy brows. “Lord Ogilvie fell off the castle tower?”
“Yes.”
He pursed his lips and looked at her doubtfully. “That will cause a to-do. There’ll be those who applaud it. Are you going to tell me it was an accident, lass?”
“He fell when he tried to kill us both.”
“Why did he wish to kill you?”
She shook her head in confusion, still not entirely sure what lay behind it. “I think he must have been mad. He kidnapped me, forced me to come here from London. Blair followed to rescue me.”
The doctor’s bushy brows rose. “He always was a bad sort.”
Might we stay here? I can cook, clean...” she put the food on a tray, then brought it to the table with the tea things.
“That would be nice, but this is a small place. It would hardly escape anyone’s notice that I have a pretty girl living with me. You think the villagers don’t know you’re here right now? Besides, if you stay I would have to explain his bullet wound to the magistrate.”
She watched Blair’s face for signs of improvement. Was his color better? “I don’t like to ask you to lie for us, but I’m afraid we will be blamed for the earl’s death. And we are innocent.”
He nodded. “It could likely be true.” There was a pause as he sipped his tea. “Then you’d best take your man and leave before daylight.”
“But he might die!”
“He might die anyway.”
“I have no means of transport.”
“My son will drive you to my brother in Carlisle. You can stay with him; he runs an inn. When this young man is up to traveling, or he’s ready for his grave, whichever, my brother Garrick will help you return to London. I’ll send a letter along with you. Don’t worry lass.” He patted her hand. “I’ll tell anyone, should they ask, that you were a couple just passing through with a sick baby.”
“Oh, you’re so kind. Bless you.” She kissed the man’s bristly cheek.
“Have done with you.” He smiled. “I’ll slip out and fetch my son. You finish your tea.”
When the doctor returned with his son in tow, Gina rose to give them both a hug. “Thank you so much, you shall always be in my prayers.”
Blair stirred. Gina leaned over him. He opened his eyes and looked at her his eyes dazed. She smoothed the lock from his brow. “Am I in heaven?” he asked, before drifting off again.
The doctor laughed. “I do hope he survives, for heaven on earth surely awaits him.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Present Day
London
Dylan came running up the path only twenty-five minutes after Astrid had rung him. She realized gratefully that he must have ridden like the devil to get here so quickly from his flat in Fulham.
He grasped her shoulders. “Are you okay? That bastard, I’ll run him through when we’re next on the set.”
She gazed up into his concerned, blue eyes. He looked appealing with his damp dark hair tousled. Had he been in the shower? “You don’t use swords on the set.”
“I’ll find one in wardrobe. No, seriously, Astrid. What do you want me to do?”
She loved how men always rushed to fix things. “Nothing. I’ll leave it until after the wrap party.” Now calmer and feeling much safer, she could think more clearly. “I don’t expect he’ll bother me again and I don’t wish to ruin the man’s career when his life is already falling apart.”
Dylan coiled his hands into fists. “Surely you’re not going to let him get away with it?”
“If I cause a fuss the man will lose his job.”
“And so he should.”
“And then he’ll blame me.”
He paused. “Of course I don’t want that to happen. But are you sure he won’t do this again? The man should be put away.”
“He didn’t hurt me.” She shook her head, too exhausted to speak of it anymore.
Running his hands through his hair, Dylan strode over to the French windows. He made sure they were locked. “I’m going to check every door and window in the place.”
She slipped down onto the sofa as he went from room to room. Her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her up. She was grateful that Dylan hadn’t asked about Philippe, her whirlpool of emotions made it impossible to talk about what had been said between them. She didn’t want to admit to being very, very tired, but by the slump of her shoulders, Dylan knew. He hurried over to her. When she rose she had to lean against him. He picked her up in his arms. “Time for bed,” he said against her hair.
She rested her head against his shoulder. Entering the bedroom, he laid her on the bed.
He drew off her shoes and covered her with the spread. Then he stood for a moment looking down at her. “I’m going to sleep on the couch, Astrid.” He found a spare blanket and pillow in the wardrobe. “You’re safe now.”
He left the room and she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
She opened her mouth to say, no, stay here with me, but exhaustion weighed her down.
In the early hours of the morning, Astrid woke feeling cold. She sat up to pull the duvet over herself and realized she still wore her dress. Her mouth felt furry. In the bathroom she washed her face, brushed her teeth and changed into her nightgown. When she came back into the room, she found Dylan standing in the doorway, dressed in a pair of boxer shorts. She hadn’t forgotten how magnificent his body was from that day at the lake, his powerful torso tapering to a trim waist and long, muscular legs. A quiver of breathless expectation passed through her.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
She took a shaky breath. “Is this something special, Dylan?”
“For me, it is.”
She took a step toward him.
In two strides, he reached her. He kissed her as if starved for her. He was so much taller than Philippe, taller than any man she’d known, to coil her arms around his neck, she had to stand on her toes. With a laugh he walked with her to the bed. His mouth explored hers, her fingers tangled in his hair. She felt an insatiable need for this kind, warm gorgeous man.
He massaged a thumb over a nipple through the thin material of her nightgown sending carnal shivers through her body. “Do you want this, or is it just because of what’s happened?”
She pushed away the thought that this was unwise and gave in to everything she felt. “I want you,” she whispered.
He eased her nightgown over her head.
He groaned. “God, you’re the most beautiful woman I have known, Astrid.”
“You are very pretty yourself.”
He laughed, an almost primeval sound, so unlike his usual voice, it made her go hot with desire. No one had seen her completely naked except Philippe. Her hands fluttered up to cover herself.
“Let me look at you.”
Dropping her hands, she proudly invited his gaze. He drew her against him and she buried her nose in his skin, smelling the maleness of him, his own particular scent overlaid with some sharp, fresh cologne.
“I don’t have any condoms. Are you on birth control?”
She nodded. That had been the cause of the bitter arguments with Philippe. Not wanting to think of him now, her thoughts skidded away as Dylan kicked off his boxers reveling his rampant desire for her. She wanted to touch him. She stroked his hard length until the sound of his moan sent her over the edge. Dylan took control and pushed her back onto the bed. When he bent to kiss her between her legs, she gasped at the bold caress. Philippe had never done this. He’d always been a conventional lover. Shocked at the intimacy, the pleasure from Dylan’s mouth and tongue quickly dis
pelled her embarrassment as she arched her hips and cried his name.
“Give yourself to me,” Dylan said huskily, as his fingers circled her soft flesh. He slipped a finger inside her.
With a moan, Astrid surrendered as her release came hard and swift consuming her.
Dylan smiled at her. “I’ve dreamed of this.”
“I’ve dreamed of you.”
“You have? Why didn’t you say so? We’ve been wasting precious time. What did you dream? Of this?” He gently bit a nipple as pleasure exploded through her.
She gave a breathy giggle.
“Tell me what you want.” His heavy-eyed gaze made her tremble with a sexual thrill she’d never felt before. She yielded to the searing need that had been building for weeks.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered.
He settled over her and she welcomed the weight of him pressing down on her, her hands sliding over his back, discovering strong bones beneath smooth skin, the ripple of his muscles as he moved under her fingers.
Dylan pushed inside her, filling her, causing a fierce flare of yearning. How good it felt, how right. They fitted together perfectly. He took hold of her bottom and thrust into her, riding her hard.
Sliding out of control again, Astrid cried out, but he silenced her with his mouth.
Dylan withdrew and pushed into her again making her mew with pleasure. He filled her with his own climax and holding her tightly, pressing kisses onto her forehead, nose and throat, before his warm body left hers and he lay beside her.
Their panting breaths subsided. “Next time we’ll take it slower,” he said, his cheek against her breast.
Astrid frowned. “Slower?”
He looked up at her. “You don’t want it slower?”
She shook her head.
“I mean make it last longer,” he said with a laugh.
“Oh, oui.”
Dylan settled her head against his shoulder. “I want to learn everything about you.”
Her fingers explored the texture of the dark hair on his wide chest while they lay together, languid and quiet. Dylan pulled the duvet over them as the sweat on their bodies cooled. Feeling safe in his arms Astrid drifted off to sleep.
Diary of a Painted Lady Page 18
