“There’s raw meat in the kitchen,” Hurtheven replied.
“Ready meat could help get him back in the cage, though how we’re to get between?—”
“You—” He pointed to the smallest of the boys standing ready. “You have good aim?”
The boy puffed up his chest. “The best.”
“Give him the meat—have him toss it from the roof into the cage.”
“Right away,” the aproned woman answered.
Hurtheven hustled the lion’s keepers to the doorway. “The two of you advance. The rest of us will block his retreat.” He threw open the door. The lion’s attention focused on him. “Any sign he’s about to attack, I’ll shoot. Go!”
The lion’s deadly gaze followed each successive man as they fanned out through the courtyard. Then, the beast focused on the closest person.
“There’s a nice cat,” Hurtheven crooned, locking gazes with the animal. The other men fanned out in a wide semicircle around the beast brandishing chairs—someone rolled one in Hurtheven’s direction. He picked it up. Four points, the man had said. Keep them moving.
He couldn’t do this if he had to think. Not of the children. Not of himself. “Nice, calm kitty.”
The boy tossed a bag of meat from the roof into the open cage. An excellent shot—the child hadn’t been boasting.
“Inside the cage, now,” the cloaked man urged. “You’ve had your run about.”
Somewhere in the distance a young sheep bayed. Saliva dripped from the lion’s mouth. As the semi-circle closed in, he backed toward the open cage.
Hurtheven passed Mrs. Montrose, still balanced atop the pile of wood. His heartbeat slowed. She was safe, now. The children were safe. To attack them, the beast would have to get through him, first. And there was no way he’d allow that to happen.
The men closed in, backing the lion up the ramp and into his cage.
The click of the cage door sent a rush of blood through his veins. He slipped the pistol into his pocket, set down the chair, and then gripped the chair’s warped toprail.
Breathe.Sweat beaded at his brow.Breathe.
He felt a hand against the small of his back. Her hand. He knew. What he did not know was how she’d managed to stay so calm through the experience.
“Are you well?” He turned. “Unharmed?”
She blinked at him, dazed. Her arm hovered in the air. The still-open parasol dangled off her wrist. A deep-rooted, fernlike emotion unfurled within; he tingled as if its fronds were lightly prodding even his utmost extremities. In bravery, she was unequaled. To say he was deeply moved was understatement.
She’d utterly stupefied him.
For a moment, he could comprehend nothing but her face. If he could have, he would have remained ensconced in that moment, fully enthralled. But she closed her eyes and swayed.
“Mrs—” He stopped himself.His wife.To the curious onlookers, she was his wife. He took her by the arm. “Ma’am.”
“The children...” she murmured.
“The children,” he repeated, “are safe.”
He kept a comforting hand over her own as, together, they approached the carriage. Delmare’s low voice emanated through the door.
“You’ll see, Fee. Heracles vanquished a lion. Daniel went right into the den!”
Hurtheven opened the door.
“There aren’t any lions in England, Del. Exceptmaybein Exeter exchange—Uncle—Papa!” Fee corrected as she scrambled up. “Did you van—van?—”
“Vanquish,” Mrs. Montrose’s voice was calm, but her gaze remained hazed and distant. “We did.”
