“Maxim,” Tansy said weakly, her face pale, lips devoid of color, teeth chattering. “Please. I’m afraid.”
The words were like a knife to his heart. Fear for her powered him. With inhuman strength, he clung to one side of the boat, hefting her up with the other. The effort took every bit of strength he possessed. Arms wrapped around Tansy, taking her into the boat. And then the man returned, his hand extended for Maxim to take.
Driven by the need to see Tansy safe, he hauled himself into the boat, rolling to his back, cold and sodden, struggling to catch his breath.
“Get us to the docks,” he managed.
Tansy was shivering, blood seeping from her torn pelisse. He hauled her to him, knowing he was soaked to the bone as well and yet somehow thinking he could warm her. Comfort her. Heal her.
Damn it, he couldn’t lose her.
Not now.
Not ever.
He murmured words to her, switching between her language and his own, uncertain of what he was even saying beyond the need to comfort her. To soothe her. To somehow give her the motivation to cling to this world rather than surrendering to the next.
Hot tears scalded his cheeks. He wept openly, without care, without thought. And in his mind, he saw Mina, pale and streaked with soot, her face bruised and swollen almost beyond recognition. He had found his way to her too late to save her. But he wouldn’t allow the same to happen to Tansy.
“Live for me, spitfire,” he begged, holding her close to him, the wind whipping cold and brutal around them as the skiff frantically journeyed toward the docks. “Live forus.”
Maxim pacedthe hall outside the room where Tansy had been taken in the palace, looming madness warring with fear. His personal physician had been summoned to attend her, but she’d been weak and cold. The ride back to the palace from the docks had seemed an eternity, and at some point as his carriage had swayed over familiar roads in torpid agony, she’d swooned in his arms.
“Maxim, you should at least bathe.”
Nando’s voice was at his ear, his brother’s booted footfalls matching his, his presence a comfort that nonetheless lacked the impact it ordinarily had upon him.
He couldn’t bear to lose her.
All he could see was her face, so wan and fragile.
She’d been limp as a doll in his arms. Pale and lifeless.
He wouldn’t lose her.
“Maxim,” Nando pressed when he ignored him.
Pace, pace, pace.Neat steps, even time, rhythmic and unending. But not even the old routine could heal him now. Marching with Nando didn’t erase the memory of Tansy crumpling into the waters, Tansy bleeding, the terror of realizing she’d been hit by a damned bullet. His chest seized.
Who had shot her?
And why?
He had a suspicion the bullet had been intended for him. He hadn’t taken his customary outriders with him in his haste to find her. His carriage had been marked with his coat of arms. Anyone could have spied him. They could have followed him into the crowds on the docks, taken the opportunity…
He’d been responsible for Mina’s death, and now, he was likely responsible for what had happened to Tansy too.
“Maxim.”
Nando’s voice, insistent, pierced the haze of thoughts whirling in his mind.
He stopped at last, turning to his brother. “What do you want?”
“You’re soaked,” Nando said. “You’ll catch your death. A hot bath has been drawn for you in your apartments. Go and warm yourself, change into dry clothes.”
“Do you think I give a damn about what happens to me?” he roared, fists clenched at his sides in impotent fury. “I’d lay down my life for hers.” He jabbed a finger toward the closed door, on the other side of which Tansy was closeted away with his physician. “I’d give anything to be in her place.”
“I know you would, brother.” Nando’s effortless charm was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was somber and grim. “As would I. It’s my fault she was at the docks to begin with.”
