by Tonya Brooks
Surging to his feet, Nicholas didn’t even feel the pain streaking through his chest and shoulder as he carried her to his horse. Thrusting one bare foot into the stirrup, he swung his body up into the saddle, Scarlett still held tightly against his chest. Sirroco lived up to his name and then some. As if sensing the urgency, the horse fairly flew over the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust in his wake as he galloped flat out to the manor.
Ignoring the servants that came running to him in alarm, Nicholas slid off his horse and ran up the steps to the front door. Groves opened the door and paled to ash. “Scarlett has been shot. Send for the physician. Now!” Nicholas commanded hoarsely as he headed for the stairs. “And send for Langford.”
The butler began barking orders to the gaping footmen as he followed the master up the stairs. He managed to get to the door of the Emerald bedchamber first, flung it open and stood aside. Nicholas had had the room specifically designed for his future bride two years prior in anticipation of this day. This was not the wedding night he had expected.
This was a living hell.
Once the duke placed her on the bed, he all but collapsed beside her, revealing a hole in his chest that was bleeding heavily. “Your Grace, you've been injured,” Groves exclaimed.
Nicholas looked down at his bare chest and for the first time, realized that he had been shot. "Bloody hell."
~~~~~
A terrified and highly distraught Duke of Langford arrived at Branvill Manor and raced up the stairs to find a group of servants anxiously waiting outside the closed door of the duchesses bedchamber.
Devlin pushed the door open and stepped inside the room. His sister lay beneath the coverlet, as pale as a wraith, the brazen mane of hair drenched in blood. “Good God,” he breathed and turned his pain filled gaze to the man pacing back and forth unsteadily beside the bed. Nicholas was wearing nothing but his breeches, his torso and arms were covered in blood and he held a blood soaked handful of linen against his upper chest.
“The bleeding has stopped, but she won't wake up,” Nicholas said as he turned a wild eyed gaze on his best friend. “I’ve sent for the doctor.”
“What the hell happened?” Devlin asked as he rushed over to the bed to check on his sister.
“Carstairs,” Nicholas bit out furiously. “He's dead. I killed him. You'll need to form an inquisition.”
As Devlin was the local magistrate and Branvill Manor was located in his jurisdiction, it was his responsibility to judge all matters pertaining to the law. Since this was a matter of one lord of the realm killing another, it would come under scrutiny from the crown, especially since Carstairs had been Ryder's heir. However, that was the least of Devlin's concerns right then. He lifted Nicholas's hand away from the wound and paled even more.
“Don't repeat a word of that to anyone. I'll handle everything,” he insisted. “You need to lie down.”
~~~~~
“I'm fine.”
“You've been shot,” was pointed out as he dragged a chair over to the side of the bed.
“I'll live,” he said and sank heavily into the chair.
“Dammit, Nick...”
“Oh, mon Dieu!” Jacqueline gasped as she entered the room, the Ashbrooks right behind her. The distraught mother ran across the room and sank to her knees before her son. “Mon, fille, you are hurt!”
“I'm fine, Mere,” he protested and tried to keep her from removing the linen covering the wound.
The Dowager Duchess Ryder began giving orders to the servants gathered in the now open doorway like a sergeant preparing her troops for battle. Within moments, hot water had appeared along with a stack of linen cloths while she and Juliette each took charge of a patient. When the wounds were cleaned and wrapped to their satisfaction, everyone began asking questions at the same time.
“The doctor should have been here by now,” Nicholas growled as he tried to rise and was pressed back into the chair by his mother. “Groves! Where the hell is the doctor?” He bellowed and then bent over double in pain.
“Here, Your Grace,” the butler called from the hallway as he ushered the physician into the room.
~~~~~
The doctor stopped short when he saw the lords and ladies present. “Your Graces,” he began to greet them cordially.
“Hawkins, get over here,” Nicholas commanded, and the crowd parted so the doctor could move toward the bed.
Treating Lady Scarlett's scrapes and bruises over the years had brought him into close contact with the two highly overprotective young dukes so he took no offense at the commanding tone. “Good lord,” he said when he saw Ryder.
“Attend to my wife,” Nicholas insisted.
“But, Your Grace...” the doctor protested.
“Now, Hawkins,” was growled.
The physician moved to the bed and examined the ladies wound. “It appears to be a flesh wound,” he deduced. “Nothing more serious than a graze.”
“It bled a deuced lot for a graze,” her husband pointed out, not at all reassured.
“Head wounds do, Your Grace,” he admitted. “Lady Scarlett will have a headache to be sure, and possibly a concussion, but it doesn't appear to be a serious wound a'tall.” The occupants of the room breathed a sigh of relief at that announcement. “Now may I examine you, Your Grace?”
“If you must,” Nicholas conceded.
Doctor Hawkins examined the wound and shook his head in dismay. “The bullet must be removed immediately,” he deduced.
~~~~~
“It can wait until Scarlett wakes up,” the patient decided.
“No, it can't,” Devlin denied.
“Dammit, Dev...”
Langford braced his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward until the two men were face to face. “Do you really want Scarlett to wake up and see you like this, Nick?” He queried softly. “I don't think she'll be pleased a'tall.”
As far as arguments went that was one that her husband could not argue with. Scarlett would be upset to realize he'd been shot, and madder than hell that he hadn't let the doctor treat him. Dropping his head against the back of the chair, he sighed, “Do what you will.”
~~~~~
Once the patients had been seen to, the Ashbrook men retreated to the scene of the crime to discuss the issue and decide what must be done. It was not a difficult decision to make, and they were just ruthless enough to do it without a qualm. They may be civilized gentlemen for the most part, but the blood of warriors still flowed through their veins. Their first instinct and only priority was to protect their family, of which Nicholas was a part of.
There would be no investigation. Nicholas and Scarlett had been through enough. As far as anyone would ever know, shamed by his jealous attempt to kill his cousin, Carstairs had simply disappeared from the face of the earth. His body and saddle were then buried where they would never be found.
Stefan took the viscounts horse back to Devil's Keep, as was his usual practice when he bought a horse from Nicholas, and instructed one of the stable hands to deliver it to his estate. Then they sent for Marcus Davies, a bow street runner and told him that Carstairs, maddened with jealousy, had tried to kill Nicholas. Once he realized that he had accidentally shot Scarlett, the man had fled, presumably to the continent.
The story was all over London by nightfall and not a soul doubted it. After all, Carstairs had been a besotted fool, and everyone knew it. Even Laird McKenna, who had played a large role in the young man’s decision did not doubt what the outcome had been. Upon hearing the news, the viscount’s mother suffered a stroke and never regained the ability to speak. As far as the Ashbrooks were concerned, Justice was served all around.
Chapter Thirty Five
Branvill Manor, England, 1812
Nicholas proved to be a most difficult patient. He refused to take the laudanum, but did polish off a good bit of brandy to staunch the pain. He also refused to stay in bed and as soon as the surgery was over, returned to Scarlett's side. Doctor Hawki
ns accepted the less than gracious invitation to stay until the new lady of the house had awakened after Nicholas threatened to have him locked in a room unless he complied.
By morning, the doctor was seriously worried about the young lady's condition. She should have awakened by now and even smelling salts did not revive her. Her husband was demanding answers he could not give, nor did the duke like the ones he received. Either one of the dukes that is.
Even though her wound was superficial, it appeared that she had lapsed into a coma. Since the last thing that Scarlett saw was Nicholas being shot, Doctor Hawkins believed she was willing herself to die.
~~~~~
Nicholas went insane.
He refused to leave her, sat by her side night and day, talking to her, pleading with her not to leave him. Even his mother could not get him to leave Scarlett long enough to rest. He talked about the plans he had for their future, raising the horses she loves, about the children he planned to give her anything he could think of to force those beautiful eyes to open again. If anyone had any doubts that he was in love with her, they disappeared in the face of his agony.
Half mad with grief, Nicholas sat there holding her hand as he stared into the perfection of her face and knew what he had to do. Now that he had known such indescribable joy, there was no way that he could go on if he lost Scarlett. No way that he could continue to live in this bleak hell of an existence without her by his side. He had loved her with every fiber of his being in life and if need be, he would follow so that he could love her in death.
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”
Having quoted Elizabeth Barrett Browning, he reached inside a drawer of the bedside table and removed a pistol. Placing it within reach, he lowered his lips to press a gentle kiss against her hand, needing to touch her, love her, while he still could. Lifting her hand to press it against his cheek, he vowed tenderly, “Death shall not part us, my love. Nothing will ever take you from me. I will follow you, be it to heaven or hell.”
~~~~~
Having entered the room silently, Devlin heard the end of the poem and saw his friend remove the pistol from a drawer, but the softly spoken vow sent a chill through his very soul. Good God! Nicholas was planning to kill himself. The realization was as shocking as it was terrifying. “Don't you dare give up on her now, Nick,” he said hoarsely as he walked up behind the other man and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Scarlett's a fighter. She'll pull through this.”
Raising tormented eyes to his oldest friend, Nicholas said in a hollow tone, “I can't live without her, Dev.”
Devlin reached over and picked up the pistol, slid it into his pocket and said, “We're not going to lose her. The minx won't give up and neither can we.”
Not even a glimmer of hope touched his bleak soul as his darker than night eyes returned to her beautiful face. Trembling hands lifted her hand to his lips where he kissed each knuckle reverently. Either unaware or uncaring that they were not alone, Nicholas began to talk to Scarlett again, telling her about the wonderful life they would have together and how much he loved her.
His own soul racked with pain, Devlin went back into the connecting sitting room and sent a footman to find the butler. When the man arrived, he handed over the pistol and asked, “Are there any more weapons in Her Grace’s bedchamber?”
“Not that I am aware of, Your Grace,” the man admitted. “The chamber was prepared for his bride, so I cannot imagine his grace including....” Groves paused when he realized just who his employer had married. Scarlett was most proficient with weaponry after all. “Perhaps I should speak with the maid and make sure.”
“Collect every weapon in the house and lock them away,” he commanded. “And under no circumstances are you to allow Ryder near them until after my sister has fully recovered.”
“At once, Your Grace,” the man hastily agreed and went to do so.
“Devlin, surely you don't think...” his grandmother trailed off when she saw his face. “Oh, dear lord.” Juliette hastened back to Jacqueline's side.
~~~~~
At Nicholas's insistence and considerable damage to his own person, Devlin managed to get Rajah into a cage and transported the vicious, growling cat to Branvill Manor. He then released the hissing, spitting creature from its carrier and received a venomous blue eyed glare for the effort.
Spotting Nicholas, the cat tore across the room like a white streak and pounced in his lap. Nicholas stroked his wife’s pampered pet and soothed his ruffled state before placing him on the bed. Rajah promptly curled up with Scarlett, shot Devlin one last feral glance and then ignored him completely.
~~~~~
Aware of a familiar weight on her stomach, Scarlett's eyes fluttered open and then closed again, her right hand lifting out of habit to stroke the cat. Forcing heavy lidded eyes back open, she recognized the room before she focused her attention on the man sitting beside the bed, his head lying on the mattress at her hip.
The breath caught in her throat at the realization that Nicholas was alive if somewhat haggard. Lifting her left hand, she lightly ran her fingers through his tangled hair and saw him jerk upright. With several days growth of beard and dark circles beneath his tormented eyes, he looked exhausted, unkempt and completely unlike the man she knew and loved. Scarlett had never seen anything more beautiful, and she favored him with a wan smile.
“Scarlett,” he breathed as if unable to believe his own eyes.
A soft nicker caught her attention, and she stared past him incredulously. Blinking several times to try to clear her vision and the grogginess from her mind, she focused on Brazen Lady and realized that there was a horse in the bedchamber.
“Nicky, my love, even I will not tolerate horses in the house,” she said softly, her voice scratchy from not being used. Brazen Lady whinnied as if agreeing with the sentiment.
Nicholas's lips parted in a smile, then he grinned like a complete fool and finally laughed out loud in sheer unadulterated joy.
When he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter, Devlin opened the door to find his sister sitting up and being kissed within an inch of her life. A stupid grin on his face, he closed the door quietly and turned to face their family. “Scarlett's awake,” he announced with a great deal of relief.
The doctor pronounced her quite recovered and only after Scarlett had checked Nicholas's wound and assured herself that he really was all right, did the highly distraught new duchess finally allow the doctor to go home. That night, Nicholas slept the sleep of a man exhausted, in the arms of the woman he loved.
~~~~~
In spite of the fact that he ached like hell, waking up with Scarlett in his arms for the first time was a memory that Nicholas would never forget. When his bride awakened and stretched that long, voluptuous body against his, his cock responded instantly.
Scarlett noticed and smiled up at him sleepily. “Do you wake up like this every morning, Nicky?” She asked hopefully.
“Never doubt it,” he grinned devilishly.
“It's too bad Doctor Hawkins said you were to refrain from any strenuous exercise,” she teased as her hand lightly caressed him.
“Now that's a name I've never heard it called before,” he grinned and pulled her on top of him. “But sin
ce he gave you a clean bill of health, I guess you'll have to handle the strenuous part.”
Scarlett sat upright astride him and looked down at their position. She had seen just such an illustration in the book. Biting her lip in indecision, she asked, “Do you think we should?” She didn't want to do anything to injure him further, but the idea was very appealing.
“Most definitely,” Nicholas nodded and flashed her the wicked rakes grin that she loved as he challenged, “Seduce me if you can.”
Epilogue
Fifty years later...
“You promised to love me forever,” Scarlett reminded her husband as she fought the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.
“That I will, my love. That I will,” Nicholas agreed with a wistful smile as he cradled her fragile body gently against his. “I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”
“Oh, Nicky,” she choked brokenly and gave up trying to be brave. Dying was easy, she had discovered. Leaving her beloved husband behind was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Just knowing that she would never see his handsome face again, feel the tender touch of his hand, or hear him quoting all that lovely poetry was unbearable. “I love you so much.”
~~~~~
Pressing a tender kiss to her brow, he ran his fingers lightly through her silken white tresses. “Shh, kitten. I'll always be with you. Rest now,” he soothed gently. Within moments, her body relaxed against his as naturally as it had always done. Her breathing grew shallower by the minute, her heartbeat more faint, until he knew without a doubt that his wife lived no more.
Age had completely dimmed the obsidian eyes, but time had not dimmed his memories. To Nicholas, his improper duchess would always be an uncommon beauty with mischievous emerald eyes and a mane of flaming tresses that could make even the most sensible of men lose his head. The kind of woman a man is blessed to find but once in a lifetime.
