She threw back the locks and dashed into the hall, slamming the door closed behind her.
And then immediately realized that a proper lady would never enter a taproom in nothing more than her night rail and dressing gown. She halted only a minute.
She couldn’t go back to the chamber they’d shared. He’d only insult her some more.
Was it because he was telling the truth? Had getting married been her idea?
The door opened behind her, and she twisted around to head for the staircase again. Hoyden or not, she couldn’t spend another second in Hedwig Buckley Spencer’s company!
Mrs. Hedwig Buckley Spencer? Good God, what had she done?
“Come back inside, duchess. It’s not as bad as you think. We can work this out.” He stepped into the corridor, one hand outstretched, a pained look on his face.
“Over my dead body!” What was there for the two of them to work out? Where they would travel for their wedding journey? How to raise their children?
No longer caring if she looked like a hoyden, she gasped on a sob, lurching toward the stairwell intent on one thing only—escaping the maddening creature she’d married.
A second sob escaped at the same time she lowered her foot to the first step. Only instead of landing on the wood of the stair, her bare foot landed on the hem of her gown.
Feeling like she was underwater, both feet now caught in her night rail, the bodice of her gown jerked down on her shoulders, tipping her forward and disrupting her balance. Her hand barely grazed the banister when she realized in horror that this was not going to end well.
“Tabetha!”
She turned her head and the last thing she saw before the world slipped away was Stone diving forward to keep her from falling.
For a moment, his fingertips pinched the fabric of her sleeve. But only for a moment. The material tore, and Tabetha went careening down. Sharp pain, much worse than what she’d woken up with that morning.
And then everything went black.
Chapter 9
And Married too…
“Tabetha!”
Stone’s fingertips barely grazed her gown as her terrified gaze beseeched him. He reached, but he wasn’t quick enough. The delicate fabric ripped, leaving him holding nothing more than a silken scrap.
“No!”
Stone flew behind her, taking three steps at a time, ignoring both the pain in his ribs as well as his own safety, knowing he had to break her fall.
But he wasn’t fast enough.
A sickening thump sounded—her head slammed on the hardwood of the landing at the same time self-loathing slammed into him.
“Tabetha.” He was on his knees, his hands cradling her face. He was supposed to protect her!
She lay perfectly still, her lashes fanned in perfect arcs beneath her eyes, her lips soft and slightly parted. Was she even breathing?
“Send for a doctor!” he shouted at the startled innkeeper and the woman standing over them.
“Wake up, duchess.” Moments before, her cheeks had been flushed, her eyes shooting daggers. How had she turned so pale so quickly? “God damn it!” He swallowed around the huge lump in his throat. “You little fool.”
He held his face near her mouth, terrified to only feel the slightest whisper of breath against his cheek.
The coppery scent of blood met his nostrils before he spied the pool of shining liquid forming on the floor.
Delicate strands of golden hair floated on the surface.
