by Kimberly Nee
And what would she do as she watched him fly about that track?
The clouds muted the sunlight once more. The dirt track was rutted and there were several puddles from the rain. In a few minutes, Bennett would be as mud spattered as he’d been the afternoon Galen and Diego had their fight. That made her smile. There was something adorable about how he’d looked that afternoon. And now she imagined helping him out of more than just muddy boots.
Then the race began and her troubling thoughts were forgotten as the pounding of horse’s hooves grew stronger. Loki and Bennett raced toward her, the horse’s long strides majestic and fast. It was hard to imagine any other horse running with such grace and speed.
As he rounded the first turn, some of the tension left her body and she chided herself for ever being nervous at all. The track was a straight run broken up by four simple turns. No jumps. No obstacles. Just long strides and wide turns.
How could something terrible happen?
There was something mesmerizing about seeing Bennett racing Loki. Man and beast looked almost to be one, with Bennett low in the saddle and leaning slightly forward. Somehow, she didn’t think the sudden race of her heart had anything to do with fear and everything to do with just how overwhelmingly masculine he looked at that moment. He looked so masculine, so desirable right there, she could just imagine every other woman in the crowd falling in love with him right then.
Then she allowed herself to get caught up in the excitement as Loki ran neck and neck with a pale champagne-colored horse. By the end of the first lap, Loki started pulling away from the rest of the pack and she couldn’t help but let out a shout of encouragement, pride surging through her as she watched Bennett lean forward, lifting up from the saddle. He probably couldn’t hear her and had no idea she was even there, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t help herself. She loved him.
Then the pack began catching up with Loki, and two horses, one on either side of him, closed him in. What happened next was all a blur at first, but Elena’s shouts of encouragement became shrieks of horror as the horses all collided and when the pack separated, Bennett was no longer in his saddle.
The pack split apart and a collective gasp went up as Loki continued running, dragging Bennett behind him, his foot caught in the stirrup. Two other racers tried to grab Loki’s halter, his bridle, anything to stop him, but the horse jerked to the right, and as he did, Bennett’s foot finally slipped free. He rolled once. Twice. And then came to a rest facedown on the dirt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The earl’s father was killed when he was thrown from his horse.
And then, well…one day, his horse decided it didn’t feel much like jumping and stopped short, sending my father over his head.
Eleanor Fielding’s words, Bennett’s own words clanged through Elena’s skull like the most out-of-tune church bell in existence and her heart ceased to beat. A stunned silence dropped as if from heaven over the crowds. Then the buzz started again. Women began outright crying. Beside her, Lady Rosamund gasped, and promptly sank against Eleanor, who nearly toppled over from the sudden weight.
“Is he dead?”
“He must be!”
“Just like his father!”
Elena ignored all of them, leaping from her seat to push her way through the throngs of people now gathering around Bennett, who had yet to move a limb.
Without any thought about anything other than getting to Bennett, she simply shoved bodies from her path without so much as an I beg your pardon, and dropped to her knees beside Bennett, her hand coming to rest on his dirt-spattered back. “No…please, God…no…Bennett… Love?”
Silence.
Her throat squeezed shut. “Bennett…please answer me.”
Still only silence.
Panic rose like smoke to choke her and tears blurred him as they filled her eyes. “Pl-please…” Her voice cracked. “Please answer me, darling.”
Elena fought to keep calm as a shadow fell over her. “Miss Sebastiano, let me in.”
Edward Shelton knelt beside her to carefully ease Bennett onto his back. Elena gasped at the sight—his face was cut and bruised—but thankfully, he dragged in a deep breath—or tried to—and winced. “Bloody…hell…” he groaned. Then he coughed. Another groan.
Her heart thundering in her ears, Elena swallowed hard against the roar of blood pounding through her temples and threatening to drown her. “Bennett?”
His eyes opened but didn’t seem to focus. Then he blinked. Another wince. Finally, his eyes slanted in her direction. “Elena?”
The roaring in her ears softened at his quiet question. Nudging past Shelton, she knelt to cradle Bennett’s head in her lap. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose, another along his right cheek, a swelling along that same cheekbone, and another cut across his forehead over his left eye. She smoothed his hair away from his face, dabbing gently at the cuts with her sleeve. “Is there a village doctor?”
Shelton looked up. “There is.” He glanced down at Bennett, then at her. “Will you be all right here?”
She nodded, stroking Bennett’s hair away from his face. “I’ll be fine. Please, just go and fetch the doctor?”
“Of course.” Shelton got to his feet, shoving several men aside as he did. “Leave them be. Give him room to breathe, won’t you, for the love of God?”
Elena paid them no mind, even their voices faded into nothing as she continued stroking Bennett’s hair.
He closed his eyes, but only briefly. “What happened?” he asked, sounding groggy.
“You fell off your horse,” Shelton replied. “But, you are in Miss Sebastiano’s excellent hands and I’ll return as soon as I find Payneswick.”
“No.” Bennett shook his head weakly, his voice faint and confused. “I didn’t fall. Something…something was wrong.”
“Shhh, love,” Elena whispered, still stroking Bennett’s hair with gentle fingertips. “The marquess is going to fetch the doctor at once.” She shot Shelton a look. “Right?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“The saddle slipped,” Bennett insisted, his voice still faint but becoming stronger. “Bloody fool groom…”
Shelton nodded. “Don’t trouble yourself about it, Dunning. Just hold on.” He turned to her. “Elena, you don’t—”
“My lord!” A deep voice rang out across the heath and the crowds parted completely as a large man, and a younger boy, elbowed their way in.
“You didn’t double check the fool saddle,” Shelton snapped. “Loki blew himself up and you didn’t check it.”
“Shelton, enough…” Bennett broke in weakly. “Help me up?”
Elena thought he meant her, but the groom and the boy stepped up to gingerly help Bennett to his feet, pushing her out of the small circle entirely.
Apparently satisfied that Bennett was in safe hands, Shelton brushed off his hands. “I’ll be back as soon as I find Payneswick. Crawford and Daniel have this in hand now.”
Elena didn’t know if he was talking to her or not, so she merely nodded as Daniel caught up with Loki and caught him by the halter to gently turn him about. Shelton swung up onto his mount and disappeared along a path through the trees.
An arm about Bennett’s waist to steady him, Crawford led him to his horse. “Can you manage to get up onto Sophie?”
Bennett nodded, his voice still soft as he said, “I think so.” He looked around as the crowd broke up. “Where is Loki?”
“Daniel has him, my lord,” Crawford said. “Can you climb up?”
“I’m a bit banged up,” Bennett told him, his voice stronger still, “but I’m not dead. At least, not yet.”
Elena smiled at the complaint in his voice and without thinking, said, “You are made of sterner stuff, eh, my lord?”
He winced as he turned toward her. His eyes were still a little cloudy, but they focused on her and he managed a slight smile. “Miss Sebastiano…you came…”
“I wanted to see this race. It w
as far more than I’d bargained for.”
“You and me, both.” He winced again. “I think you and I need to talk, if you’re willing to hear me out.”
Her heart rose, butterflies coming to life deep in the pit of her belly to batter her insides with their furiously beating wings. “I am, my lord.”
“I thought we agreed that you would never address me that way?”
“So we should probably discuss that as well.”
She hadn’t meant it to come out as pert as it did, and guilt flashed through her as he chuckled, then sucked in a sharp breath and groaned, “Bloody hell, this hurts.”
“Will you be able to ride, my lord?” Crawford asked as Daniel came back with Loki. “It’s quite a ways to the stables.”
Bennett nodded again. “I think so, but, perhaps Miss Sebastiano should ride with me. She can guide Loki.” He winced as he pressed a hand to his side and limped when he took a step.
Daniel brought Loki over. “He seems fine, my lord.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” Bennett let go of Elena and with only a muttered curse, crouched to examine the saddle. Straightening up, he said, “Crawford, we will discuss this when I’m feeling more up to it.”
“I thought I’d checked it, my lord,” Crawford replied, his voice heavy with regret. “And I cannot apologize enough for my mistake.”
“As I said, we will discuss it.” Bennett carefully swung onto Loki’s back and held out a hand to her. “Up you get, Miss Sebastiano.”
She smiled, glancing at Crawford, who grinned and crouched slightly, linking his fingers together to create a sling for her. “Put your foot in here, Miss Sebastiano, and I will help you.”
A moment later, after carefully arranging her skirts, she sat in front of Bennett, who slid an arm about her waist and leaned against her as he whispered, “Take care, darling. I hurt like mad at the moment.”
She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know.” He kissed the back of her head and took Loki’s reins from Daniel. They made their way to the stables and from there, Bennett managed under his own power to climb the stairs to his chambers.
Elena sighed softly as he reclined on his bed with a low groan. “How far is the doctor from Dunning Court?”
“Not far. Shelton should have returned by now.” Bennett rubbed his forehead with one hand. His face was so very white. “Send one of the footmen for Mr. Payneswick. He’ll know exactly where to find him.”
“Mr. Payneswick. Of course.”
As she made to step back, he reached out and caught her by the hand. “Wait, Elena.”
“What?”
A gentle tug on her arm drew her down to sit beside him. “I’ll be all right, darling. I’m sure it looks far worse than it is.”
“I certainly hope so,” she whispered, her throat squeezing tight, “for you look a fright, my lord.”
“I’ll wager I do.” He coughed and then groaned again. “You’ll see. And when you do, we have much to discuss.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she promised him, smoothing his hair away from his face.
His eyes closed and he nodded slowly. “I am not going anywhere.”
She left his chambers and as she was halfway down the staircase, Shelton and a man who had to be Mr. Payneswick, came hurrying up. Shelton offered up a reassuring smile and a wink as he ushered the man down the corridor. But before she could catch up to them, the door to Bennett’s chambers was closed and locked.
She stared at the closed door, her thoughts returning to the time she’d gone for a walk, when Bennett happened upon her at the lake. She had teased him about his accent, about how she knew who he was because of it, without even having to look. And the look on his face when she told him how much she enjoyed sitting in front of him on Loki? Utterly priceless. It was most likely the first time she’d shocked him. It wouldn’t be the last, of that she was certain.
Her throat tightened again. Bennett had been alert and talking, but what if he had been more seriously injured than she thought? What if—her throat squeezed shut—what if he succumbed to his injuries? What if that damn curse was real and he just fell victim to it?
“No. Don’t think like that.” She wrapped her arms about herself to ward off the deathly chill invading her bones. The tears she’d managed to hold in since dropping to her knees in the dirt at Bennett’s side came flooding back. Hot and sharp, they poked the backs of her eyes even as she stared up at the ceiling to ward them off. Her knees buckled. She sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands.
She let them fall, let herself cry until little by little, she regained control of her breathing and stood once more. Perhaps they wouldn’t let her in Bennett’s chambers and by rights, they shouldn’t. She had no business demanding entry. She wasn’t his wife yet. As he said, they had much to discuss.
“Elena?” Conn’s voice was sweet music and she turned to see him striding toward her, concern clouding his features. “What happened?”
“The race. That damn fool race. Bennett fell and Loki dragged him for what seemed like miles.” Now the dam broke and the tears came. She stepped forward, into her brother’s arms, and Conn caught her easily. She pressed her face against his shoulder, dissolving into sobs again.
“Easy, Lena,” he murmured, rocking her, the way their mother had when they were children. “How is he?”
“He seemed all right. He was alert and talking to me. His side is sore and he was limping, never mind that he’s cut and bruised. But Shelton returned with the doctor and they shut me out, but Shelton did wink at me, so I suppose that is a good sign, if odd. I just don’t know—”
“Breathe.” Conn gave her a squeeze. “Before you faint. Breathe.” He nodded in the direction of the door. “They’re in there?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Let me try.” Conn set her aside and knocked on the door.
The door swung open and Shelton peered down at Conn. “Yes?”
“My sister wishes to know how his lordship fares. May we come in?”
“Of course. Ben’s been asking for you, Miss Sebastiano.”
Conn offered her an odd look even as he said, “Thank you,” and shoved by the marquess, pulling Elena by her arm into the room with him.
The room was so quiet, so deathly still, that her throat squeezed tight again. Fresh tears stung her eyes. Although Bennett assured her it was most likely not as awful as it seemed, she still had to see him again for herself. So, she pulled away from her brother and approached the bed, her heart thundering in her ears just as it had at the heath.
Bennett looked frightfully still and pale, his dark hair a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. The bruises stood out in hideous fashion, and the cuts were dried but still bloodied. With one somewhat shaking hand, she reached to brush a lock of his black hair away from the nasty gash on his forehead.
He was asleep, or unconscious, and she would have given anything for him to open his eyes, to see their beautiful blue depths. Her hand trembled even more, and her throat was so dry her voice didn’t want to work. Her “He will be all right, won’t he?” emerged as a lame croak.
Mr. Payneswick, a small man with a bushy white beard and equally bushy shock of white hair, nodded. “In time, yes. He’s a blessed man. Dragged about like a rag doll and yet suffers only cuts and bruises. Perhaps a cracked rib, but there’s little I can do about that. No other broken bones, but he’ll most likely need a cane for some time. His right knee—”
“He hurt it,” she interrupted softly. “A fortnight ago, he told me. In another fall from his horse.” She turned her attention to Bennett. “He’ll recover fully?”
“I see no reason why he shouldn’t. Time is all he needs.”
“May I stay with him?”
“I don’t think—” Payneswick began.
“As I said”—Shelton shot the doctor a look—“he’s been asking for you, Miss Sebastiano. And rather impatiently, I might add.” He gestured to the chair that som
eone had dragged over to Bennett’s bedside. “Please, sit.”
She did just that. Bennett’s hand lay atop the quilt, so she slid her hand beneath his to clasp it, entwining her fingers through his, as he’d done to her that night in the maze. His long fingers tightened about hers, and made her smile.
Conn dragged another chair over, smacking it into Shelton, who let out a loud, “Mother of—”
To Elena, Conn winced, but when he glanced at the marquess over his shoulder, there was no hint of any embarrassment. His proffered, “I beg your pardon,” sounded insincere enough that it made Elena smile again as Conn picked up one of the books from Bennett’s bedside table.
“What?” Conn asked, all innocence as he dropped down beside her. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.” She didn’t even attempt to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
“I’ll be back in the morning to look in on him. I’m going to leave some laudanum for any pain if he needs it.” Payneswick placed a small brown vial on the bedside table. “Anywhere from ten to thirty drops should be administered, depending on the severity of his lordship’s pain.”
She nodded, squeezing Bennett’s hand gently. “Thank you, Mr. Payneswick.”
“You’re most welcome, Miss Sebastiano.”
The doctor and Shelton left the room, deep in a low-voiced conversation. No doubt the doctor was expressing his utter concern over her being in Bennett’s room. Well, bother him. If he didn’t like it, that was simply too bad. He would simply have to get over it.
She turned to Bennett. He was just so still… Only the slight rise and fall of his chest gave any indication he wasn’t dead. How on earth had he not shattered every bone in his body? How was it possible he hadn’t broken a single bone at all? He’s a blessed man, the doctor said. Blessed, indeed. If a curse had ever actually existed in the Markham family, perhaps this incident was the one meant to break it.
Elena glanced over at Conn, who stared down at the open book resting on his bent thigh. “Where is Miss Chandler?”
