No, she was wrapped in arms. Strong, masculine arms.
Hisarms.
She tried to speak, but no words emerged, only sound like the bleating of a wounded animal. Because she was in pain, she realized.
Her head hurt.
Her lungs hurt.
Flashes of light flickered before her, and she reached for them, reached for the surface, for the air, for the man she loved. But another wave hit, and she choked, falling down, sliding lower, deeper. She was sinking to the seabed, and it was as cold and black as the night and so very quiet.
As she descended, she saw his face.
Saw him bending to scoop her into his arms.
I have you now, Verity.
I won’t let anything happen to you.
She believed him. Trusted him. She knew he wouldn’t allow any harm to befall her. Because she loved him and he loved her, and he had come to save her from the endless sea.
CHAPTER 20
Sybil rushed to Everett the moment she had finished washing all the soot from her skin and hair. She had places where she had suffered scrapes and bruises, but she was otherwise miraculously unscathed. She had no burns, and the worst of her symptoms was a cough that the physician who had tended her said would prevail for a few days before ultimately fading.
In all, she was fortunate to be alive. But she hadn’t been able to shake the picture of her sister-in-law, lifeless and dangling from the Duke of Kingham’s arms whilst her blood dripped on the pavements, from her mind. Verity had saved Emma.
But in so doing, she had placed herself in grave danger.
After being directed by the housekeeper, Sybil found her husband ensconced in the library. He was pacing the Axminster, his long legs striding from one end of the room to the next.
He stopped when he saw her, his expression softening. “Sybil.”
Days ago, she would have given anything for him to look at her that way. Now, she wasn’t certain what to make of his unfettered emotion. She had almost convinced herself that she had imagined him telling her that he loved her. Their carriageride back to the town house had been frantic and cramped, with little Emma, Kingham, Verity, and both Sybil and Everett within. They had all been silent, sick with worry over Verity, who had moaned and shifted slightly on her own, seemingly in pain, but whose eyes had remained closed for the duration.
Everett moved toward her now, eating up the distance between them as he took her into his arms. Like her, he had bathed and been attended by the doctor who had seen to Verity first. The scent of his soap filled her nostrils, a welcome change. She never wanted to smell smoke again in her life.
“How is Verity?” Sybil asked, clinging to him.
The fear that had gripped her during those interminable moments when she had been alone on the pavements, knowing that he was within the burning orphanage and that there was every possibility he wouldn’t survive, was only just beginning to ease. He was solid, warm, and real.Alive.
“She is resting,” he said, burying his face in her neck and inhaling. “The doctor has given her something to help her sleep and to ease her pain.”
It occurred to her that he was doing what she was—reassuring himself that she was safe. That she was real and not an illusion. They had come so close to losing each other.
“Has she awoken?” Sybil asked, for Verity’s lack of consciousness had been terribly worrisome.
“Not yet, and the doctor says that it is for the best. Time will tell. All we can do is pray and tend to her.Mamanis sitting with her now.” Everett drew back to look down at her, studying her face. “How are you, my darling? Are you hurt?”
Her stomach tightened with worry for Verity. Everett’s somber tone was far from promising.
“A few scrapes and bruises, and nothing more,” she reassured him. “What of you?”
He coughed, having inhaled far too much smoke during his rescue of Verity and little Emma. “The doctor applied some salve to a burn I received on my right forearm and wrapped it. Aside from that, I am well.”
She disentangled herself from his embrace. “You must be in pain. You mustn’t hold me like this.”
“I’d never be in too much pain to hold you.”
