by Music Box
Jaw set, he shifted forward in his seat, slapping the reins and commanding the horses to quicken their pace.
The carriage raced toward Nevon Manor.
“Crumpet! Where are you, you wretch?”
Gaby traipsed along the wooded path, cupping her hands and shouting for her pet in the hope that she’d startle him into making a rustling sound, thus revealing himself.
The search was taking longer than usual—nearly three hours, to be exact. Jane and Lily had been sent back to the manor ages ago, their small bodies weary, their eyes half closed with exhaustion.
At this point, even Gaby was getting irritated.
She’d covered the entire area surrounding the gardens, scoured the woods on either side of the manor as well as behind it. Now she was retracing her steps to see if Crumpet had tired himself out and headed home for his warren.
She had a few unpleasant words for her pet when she found him.
Cutting through a thick grove of trees, Gaby was just about to break into a run when she heard the telltale rustle she’d been waiting for.
“Crumpet?” She veered in that direction, winding her way through the trees and calling out as she walked. “Where are you?”
The sound came from just behind her.
Gaby whirled about, on the verge of grabbing her pet and scolding him.
Her words died on her tongue as a dark, masked figure loomed over her, clutching a rock in his hands. Before she could react, he raised his arms and brought the rock down on her head.
Colors swam before Gaby’s eyes, and an oddly familiar musky smell pierced her nostrils as pain exploded inside her head.
Then she was sucked into a swirling tunnel of blackness.
And finally … nothing.
Chapter 15
FIRE.
It was blazing inside her head, all around her body, only this time her skull ached too much to lift it, her eyes burned too much to open.
Oh, God, would this nightmare ever go away?
Gaby shifted, shards of pain bursting in her temples, weighing down her mind. And her leg.
Her leg?
Dazed, she tried to move her left leg, only to find that it was trapped, anchored by something too powerful to dislodge.
What was happening to her?
The sound of crackling flames reached her ears, intensifying heat radiating through her body. And that smell. That horrible sweet, musky smell. The smell of death.
She had to get out.
Again she tried to move, and again her leg refused to cooperate. Beneath her, the ground was softer than she remembered, more like grass than dirt.
With every drop of will she possessed, she forced her eyes open, shifted her weight to her elbows, and tried to see beyond the splitting pain in her skull.
She could see nothing but leaping flames—the heinous orange glow she recognized only too well.
Only this time the fire was real.
Like the first time.
“No,” she choked out, peering about to determine where she was.
Again that tug on her leg.
Gaby looked over her shoulder, shifting so she could see the lower section of her body.
She was lying alongside Crumpet’s warren, and her leg was jammed into the opening, pinned there by rocks.
Pinned there by someone.
In a rush, Gaby remembered—the assailant, the rock, the smell.
Fire.
Whoever had hit her, had also trapped her here.
And then he’d left her to die.
With a cry of fear and pain, she clawed at the stones, frantically struggling to free her leg. Her forehead was bleeding; she could feel the trickle of blood oozing down the side of her head, and the pain was excruciating. So was the dizziness. But she couldn’t give in to them, couldn’t lie down and succumb to the slumber her body craved. To sleep would mean to die.
Racking coughs seized her as the fire spread, blazing a trail across the grass, igniting everything it touched. Thank heaven this area immediately surrounding Crumpet’s warren wasn’t heavily wooded. The lack of trees would slow down the fire’s progress and buy her some time.
Or make her death that much more agonizing.
No. She couldn’t think that way.
Gaby gave in to the coughing, crying out at the resulting pain in her head, yet knowing that the pain would help to keep her awake. Frustrated by her impotence, she pounded at the rocks that wedged her foot tightly inside the narrow opening in the dirt.
They wouldn’t budge.
“Help!” She pushed herself as far upright as she could, shouting hoarsely, hoping someone would hear her or spot the fire. For the first time she wished Crumpet’s warren weren’t located in such a remote area; if only it were near the gardens, where Wilson might see her, or closer to the coach house, so Goodsmith might notice. How long would it be before the flames were visible from the manor? Quite a while. They were low to the ground, burning only grass and dirt, as there were no tall trees to catch fire.
God help her, she didn’t want to die.
“Help!” Alternately coughing and yelling, Gaby held her head to still its agony, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the smoke.
Minutes slipped by—only a few, but each one seemed like an eternity.
The dizziness intensified, and unconsciousness became more and more a reality, her body’s demand for sleep more acute.
Mama … Papa …
Gaby felt tears sting her already burning eyes, and she dug her fingers into the ground, grasping clumps of grass between her fingers. “Help,” she called out, her voice thin, a mere wisp of sound. “Help.” It was a whisper.
Pounding.
The ground vibrated as if it were about to swallow her up. Or was it just the drumming in her head?
More pounding, followed by a shout of “Gaby!”
The pounding was footsteps.
The voice was Bryce’s.
“Bryce.” She wasn’t sure if she said his name or just imagined she did. All she knew was that he was beside her. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know it. He was there.
“Gaby.” He swore violently, the wrenching motions and rustling sounds telling Gaby he was tearing off his coat. An instant later it was around her and Bryce was gathering her up to lift her.
“My … leg—” she choked out, then dissolved into coughing.
Another oath, and Bryce dropped to his knees, wresting the rocks away in a few powerful yanks.
Gaby felt the blessed relief of freedom.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He lifted her gently, cradling her against his chest and striding away from the heat, the smoke, the smell.
An unknown number of strides later, she heard him shout, “Wilson! There’s a fire at the warren!”
“A fire?” More pounding footsteps. “Dear Lord, Miss Gaby!” Wilson’s frightened exclamation came from right beside them.
“I’ll take care of Gaby,” Bryce instructed. “You get that shovel of yours and throw as much dirt as you can on the flames. It’s not out of control yet. But it will be. I’ll send help from the manor.”
“I’ll bring all my shovels. Send Goodsmith. We’ll put out that blaze. You just make sure Miss Gaby’s all right.”
“I intend to.” Bryce was moving again, and the motion was almost overwhelming.
“Bryce,” she whispered, her head swimming, “I … don’t think I can …”
The tightening of his arms about her was the last thing she remembered before she fainted.
A sea of voices surged about her, worried voices, taut with strain and fear. Something cumbersome lay on her head, and her body burned and ached as if she had a fever.
Did she?
With a supreme effort, she forced open her eyes.
“Welcome back, Wonderland.” Bryce’s words were light, but his expression was grim, his gaze anguished as it searched her face. “We missed you.” He captured her hand in his, bringing her fingers gently to hi
s lips. “God, I’ve been so worried.”
Gaby gave him a puzzled look. “Your face is charred,” she started to say, but a fit of coughing stopped her. Her chest felt tight and raspy, eclipsed only by the unbearable pain in her head, a pain that increased with each successive cough.
“Shhh. Don’t try to talk.” Bryce kissed her palm, pressed his forefinger to her lips. “You inhaled a fair amount of smoke. It will take a while for your lungs to clear. And coughing will only worsen your headache.”
Memory flooded back.
Instinctively, Gaby tried to sit up, then thought better of it as throbbing waves swept over her.
“You’re in your bed,” Bryce supplied. “Nearly the entire family is here—all but Cook, Wilson, and Goodsmith. They’re in the kitchen. Cook is tending to the minor burns Wilson and Goodsmith got when they put out the fire. They did an astonishing job. There’s very little damage to the property other than the area directly surrounding the warren. Everyone is safe. Including Crumpet. And you.”
Gaby’s eyes filled with tears. “Aunt Herm—”
“I’m right here, darling.” From the chair on the opposite side of Gaby’s bed, Aunt Hermione leaned over, stroking her niece’s hair with a shaking hand. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“I’m here, too, Gaby,” Lily’s small voice chimed in. “Crumpet’s staying in my room until you’re well. He was behind the stables, munching on some tossed-out vegetables when we found him. He’s real sorry to have caused so much trouble. And he can’t wait to see you.”
Gaby managed a tiny smile.
“Hot tea for the patient.” It was Chaunce’s voice, brisk as ever. The butler made his way through the room, placing a tray on Gaby’s nightstand. “Ah, Miss Gaby. I’m delighted you’re awake. The tea is hot and—” His voice broke and it took a full moment for him to recover himself. “I’ll pour you a cup,” he managed at last, his hand trembling as he did.
“I’m going to help you sit up a bit,” Bryce told her quietly. “I want you to drink the tea. Chaunce laced it with a bit of brandy, just as Dr. Briers instructed. It will relieve the pain and help you rest.” Bryce leaned forward and, in full view of the staff, brushed his lips to Gaby’s. “I know you ache everywhere right now, but that will pass. We were very lucky. The rock that evidently struck your head hit only hard enough to cause a minor concussion. And quite a hefty gash. Your leg is swollen and bruised, but not broken. In short, you’ll heal. Rapidly. We all intend to see to that.”
A chorus of fervent yeses reached Gaby’s ears.
“We’ll all be here when you awaken. So drink the tea and go to sleep. We’ll talk later.”
“All right,” she whispered, letting him help her to a half-sitting position. “Bryce?” she murmured between sips of tea.
“Hmm?”
“Thank … you.”
“Don’t.” He shook his head emphatically. “It wasn’t only you I was thinking of when I stalked through those flames. It was me. I couldn’t survive if anything happened to you. It wasn’t a choice, Gaby. I had to get to you. So I did.”
Tenderly Gaby caressed his jaw. “That … important question … you had to ask me …”
For the first time a smile touched his lips. “The instant we’re alone. I promise.”
Gaby finished the tea, then allowed her eyelids to droop. “G’night,” she slurred.
Bryce swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Good night, Wonderland.”
Evening melted into night. Gaby faded in and out of consciousness several times, each time drifting awake amid a sea of concerned faces, murmured voices, and gentle reassurances.
It was during the deepest hours of night that she opened her eyes to a dark room and silence.
“Bryce?” she whispered into the blackness.
A rustle of movement and he was by her side.
“I’m here, sweetheart.” Slowly he sank down on the edge of the bed, brushing strands of hair from her face.
He was wearing the same charred clothing he’d been wearing earlier, except that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up now and he’d washed away the telltale black streaks from his face.
He was not only the handsomest of men but the most welcome sight on earth.
“Are we alone?” she asked, looking about.
He smiled, following her gaze. “For the moment. However, I wouldn’t hold out much hope of that lasting. Chaunce and Hermione are probably already on their way back to check up on you. They’ve scarcely left your side all night.” He paused. “Your voice sounds much stronger. Is your breathing easing?”
“Yes. My chest doesn’t feel nearly as raspy as it did. Now I just feel weak.”
“Thank God for that. According to Dr. Briers, you must have regained consciousness soon after the fire was started. That’s why your burns are minor, and your difficulty breathing minimal. Evidently you had been lying amid the flames for only a few minutes when I arrived.”
“It seemed like an eternity.” Gaby shuddered. “As for thanking God, I do. But I also thank you. Had you not found me when you did …”
“Don’t even say it.”
“How did you know I needed you?”
“Just a feeling. This time I was smart enough to heed it.” Bryce leaned down, brushing Gaby’s lips with his. “Are you in any pain?” His fingertips grazed the weight on her head ever so slightly—a weight Gaby realized was a bandage.
“The pain has subsided a lot.” She reached up, caressed Bryce’s jaw. “Please. We can talk about everything else later. But, as you said, I doubt we’ll be alone for more than a few minutes. So …”
“So let’s get to my question,” he guessed with tender amusement. “Or rather, my questions. I have two. They accompany the two gifts I brought you from London.” He reached over to where his coat lay on the chair—the same coat he’d wrapped her in when he carried her to safety. Groping in his pocket, he extracted the tickets he’d procured. “Question one. Will you accompany me to the symphony next week? If you’re not up to it by then, we can exchange the tickets for a later performance.”
“Oh, Bryce, thank you.” Gaby touched the tickets gingerly … if a shade disappointedly. “I’ll be all healed by next week, I promise. I’d love to accompany you to the symphony. You know how badly I’ve wanted to go.”
“But …?”
“But it’s just that I thought … that is, I hoped—”
“Now for the second gift,” Bryce continued mysteriously, once again reaching into his pocket. “Acquiring this one took quite a bit of maneuvering, so I hope you’ll be more excited about it than you are about the tickets. In fact, I hope you’ll be exhilarated about it—as exhilarated as I am.” He extracted a folded piece of paper, flourished it before Gaby.
Gaby frowned, unable to read the paper in the darkness. “What is it?”
“A special license.” Abandoning his mock composure, Bryce placed the license beside them and, with aching tenderness, framed Gaby’s face between his palms. “I love you, Gabrielle Denning. You’ve filled a void inside me I never knew I possessed, much less recognized as empty. Will you do me the supreme and extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?”
Two tears slid down Gaby’s cheeks. “I’ve imagined this moment at least a thousand times since yesterday, prayed I hadn’t misunderstood the question you mentioned,” she whispered. “And now that my prayers have been answered, now that this moment is actually here, I want somehow to capture it, to make it last forever.”
“There will be an eternity of moments equally as treasured. This is but the first. I promise.” Bryce’s thumbs caught her tears, caressed the delicate contours of her cheekbones. “Now tell me, in your thousand imaginings, did you happen to provide me with an answer?”
Joy illuminated Gaby’s face. “Yes, I provided you with an answer—the same answer each and every time: Yes. With all my heart, yes, I want more than anything to become your wife.” She drew his mouth down to hers. “Bryce, I love you so much.”
With a husky sound, Bryce kissed her, a deep, reverent kiss that flowed through her like warm honey, soothing and inflaming all at once.
“Stay with me,” Gaby breathed. “Don’t leave.”
“Never again, Gaby.” Bryce’s meaning far transcended Gaby’s more immediate one. “Never, ever again.” He molded the softness of her lips to his, touching her, tasting her, savoring her flavor. “I won’t leave you or Nevon Manor—ever.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, buried his lips in hers for an endless, timeless moment. “This time I’m home to stay.”
“Nothing could make me happier than hearing you say those words.”
Along with Hermione’s fervent declaration, a shaft of light from the hall splintered the darkness, ending the magical spell of privacy that had prevailed during Gaby and Bryce’s moments alone.
Breaking apart, they turned toward the doorway, noting that both Hermione and Chaunce hovered on its threshold, having heard at least some portion of Bryce’s vow.
Judging from the rigidity of Chaunce’s stance, not the initial part.
“I’ve dreamed of this moment for as long as I can remember,” Hermione proclaimed, her voice trembling as she stepped into the room.
“Indeed,” Chaunce agreed, following her in and eyeing Bryce with decidedly less approval. “I’m equally delighted that you’ve elected to remain with us. However, don’t you think you might declare your intentions to do so while sitting in the chair? Miss Gaby is hardly up to so … strenuous a visit.”
Talking in Chaunce’s disapproving look, his less than subtle censure, Gaby laughed—laughter that ended on a moan as she clutched her head.
“Chaunce, please, it hurts when I do that. And to answer your question, no, Bryce could not have declared his intentions while sitting in a chair. Because one of those intentions—the one you obviously arrived too late to overhear—involved not Nevon Manor but me. Or, to be more exact, us.” Gaby’s enthralled gaze shifted to Hermione. “Bryce has asked me to marry him.”
“Oh, Gaby.” Hermione pressed her hand to her heart, joy shimmering through her like rays of sunlight. “I retract my original statement. This is the moment I’ve dreamed of forever, the moment destined to make me happier than any other. Chaunce”— she turned to him—“did you hear that?”
