He pulled the rope tighter. Lisbeth gasped against the pressure on her throat. “I should have shot you like I did Blackhurst and have done with you,” he said as he put even more pressure on her throat.
Lisbeth tried to kick out but the tent was getting dim.
She gasped but no air came to relieve the heaviness in her chest.Oliver. I love you. I’m sorry.
Oliver flew inside the tent, grabbed Dalmere off Lisbeth, and threw him onto his back. Dalmere’s expression was shocked. Oliver looked over at Lisbeth lying motionless on the ground. Dalmere distracted him by rolling back to his feet and throwing a punch that landed wide on Oliver’s cheek. Oliver gave him an uppercut to the jaw that sent Dalmere sprawling again. Blood oozed from the side of Dalmere’s mouth.
“You’re too late, Bellamy. I’ve already killed her,” Dalmere chuckled.
“Tony?” Oliver demanded.
Tony knelt by Lisbeth’s side. “She’s alive,” he said.
“No!” Dalmere replied. The shock was evident on his face. He elbowed Oliver in the chest, but Oliver was focused now on one thing. Punishing Dalmere. He punched Dalmere again and again, only mildly satisfied by the sound of bones breaking.
“Stop!” Dalmere pleaded, his voice thin and pathetic now.
“I should kill you,” Oliver said in a snarl. He grabbed Dalmere and brought him to his feet. “But I’ll let the law do that.”
Dalmere kicked out and caught Oliver in the shin. Oliver swore and grabbed Dalmere’s arm and pulled it back until he heard it pop. Dalmere howled in pain and Oliver shoved him outthe tent door and onto the gravel path. The thug was standing there, looking down at Dalmere.
“Did you hear his confession?” Oliver asked the thug.
“I did,” the thug replied, looking down at the pitiful sight before him.
Dalmere was still swearing and spitting blood onto the path.
“Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”
Oliver went straight back to Lisbeth’s side.
Lisbeth looked up at him and started to cry. He could tell she was in pain, and he wanted to soothe her. He picked her up, kissed her on the forehead, and said, “Hush now. You’re safe, Lisbeth. I have you.”
She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder.
Tony appeared beside him. “I’ve tied Dalmere up. Tom here says there is a surgeon at the balloon ascension.” He pointed to the thug.
“I could go fetch him for you,” Tom offered.
“I’d be much obliged,” Oliver replied.
Tom took off at a run. Tony indicated to a bench and Oliver sat down with Lisbeth in his lap. Her breaths were shallow and harsh but at least she was breathing.
“I’ve never been so scared in all my life. I am so sorry, Lisbeth. I should never have left you with him,” he whispered into her hair.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t kill him,” Tony said, glancing back towards the moaning Dalmere. “It will be so much the better to send him to some place resembling hell, before he actually ends up there.”
Oliver could only agree but he didn’t care about what was to happen to Dalmere as long as the dastard couldn’t get anywhere near Lisbeth again.
The sound of carriage wheels heralded the arrival of the surgeon, who jumped out and began to examine Lisbeth immediately.
“Well?” asked Oliver impatiently, as the surgeon took his time examining Lisbeth’s neck.
“She’s lucky to be alive,” he replied. “I won’t know the extent of the damage to her vocal cords until she has had time to rest.”
The surgeon then spoke to Lisbeth directly. “You must not talk under any circumstances, Lady Blackhurst, until I am satisfied you are ready. Is that clear?”
Lisbeth gave the slightest nod but winced again. Her throat felt like she had swallowed broken glass. The surgeon gave her a sympathetic smile and then ordered her to be put into the carriage. Inside, Oliver gathered her up in his arms again. The surgeon climbed in, frowned at the scene, but tapped on the ceiling to tell the driver to go. Lisbeth was glad of Oliver’s warmth and did not care what the surgeon may think of them.
