“I’m all right!” a surprisingly steady voice called out from the rubble. “But the lion is none too happy right now… and he is… so very close to me.”
“What is your name? Madam?”
“Sophia,” she answered.
“Miss Babineaux,” her friend corrected.
The condition of the lion and the strength of the cage concerned him. “Miss Babineaux, does the cage appear to be intact from that side?”
A moment passed and then a tentative “I think so. But the bars are not as close together as I would prefer. And one of his paws is caught between two of the them.”
Dev rose and examined what he could see of the wagon. Made of a solid wood, probably oak, it kept the animal in check with iron bars.
It must weigh nearly a ton.
A few of the caravan’s laborers could be heard discussing how one might go about righting it. They apparently had less concern for the girl trapped behind it than for the condition of the lion. One of them suggested a chain be located and another unhitched the horses. Very good. Some activity. Dev, however, did not like the angle in which the cage listed.
If the wheels were to slip, the girl could be injured. Or worse.
Glancing about, he spied exactly what he needed stacked upon another cart parked nearby in the resulting gridlock. As Devlin approached it, this driver, more level-headed than the others, understood exactly what he was about.
Tugging at the timber stacked behind him, he twisted, and pulled and then handed Devlin a short piece of sturdy lumber and two blocks.
Not wasting any time, Dev shoved two of the blocks on both sides of one of the wheels that remained upon the ground, and tucked them in snugly. This would prevent them from rolling when the wagon was pulled back into an upright position. He then grasped the larger plank under his arm and jumped up onto a stone ledge that decorated the front of the milliner’s building. Tossing the lumber onto the overturned cart, he pulled himself up and climbed around to where the chit was trapped.
Large blue eyes peered up at him trustingly.
Stunned, for only a moment though, he hovered over the tiny space she’d managed to wedge herself. “Can you make room for me, sweetheart?” She was a lady, but the endearment slipped out nonetheless. Devlin had always found that women in unsettling circumstances responded well to a bit of coddling.
She gathered her pup close to her chest and nodded. “Watch the lion, though. I think his other paw can reach through if he feels so inclined.”
Dev didn’t fear for himself. The most he’d receive would likely be a scratch.
The girl pressed herself farther into the corner as he dropped into the space beside her. Not wasting any time, he reached up and grasped the lumber. He would find somewhere to wedge it so as to ensure the wagon would not fall on top of both of them, now.
He’d not bargained for the sweet proximity of the girl herself. So delightfully feminine.
A weakness of his.
She’d shifted her little dog to one side and reached her other arm around him, in order to make more room. “Don’t put your hand too close to the cage, love.” His body pressed up against hers. He still hadn’t managed a thorough look at her. The space was cramped and darkened by the shadow of the cart. After hesitating a moment, he felt her hand settle upon his shoulder.
Devlin was considerably taller than she. At least by a foot. Her hair tickled his chin and as he inhaled; her perfume teased his senses. Vanilla, sweet.
Dev maneuvered himself around and propped the wood strategically. Upon doing so, a calm set into him. Until that moment, he had not realized his heart had been racing.
Having turned to address the wagon, he now found himself staring straight into the eyes of the lion.
“He’s scared,” the girl said from behind him.
The lion? Yes, he supposed she had the right of it. Furthermore, the beast was injured and likely aggravated by the indignities of his circumstances.
“His paw is bleeding,” she added.
Devlin knew that if the lion took it upon himself to slash his other paw through the cage, it could reach him. Looking the lion in the eyes could rile it.
And so, he slowly turned back around to face the girl. At least he wore a thick wool jacket. It would protect his back somewhat if the lion chose to become aggressive.
“Are you hurt?” He looked down at this petite miss who had remained surprisingly calm in such an upsetting situation.
