And then she felt his hand, turning her foot and wedging it toward her. Dear God, so much pain!
She’d been wrong when she’d told him she wasn’t a screamer. Dead wrong.
The sound tore through her throat and then echoed in her head, but she kept bending her knee and tugging.
“A little farther.” His voice was level, somehow penetrating this fog of agony. She tried to focus on the warmth of his hand and the steadiness in his voice, but the pain was more than she could endure. Then she was moving and a layer of dust covered her face. Addison had a hold of her, dragging her, but there was pain.
So much pain.
When the world finally slipped away, taking her agony with it, the last sounds she heard was the distant barking of dogs.
Either canines were welcoming her to heaven, or help was on the way.
All In
“Good dogs.” Addison knelt on the carpet in his study as he scrubbed both hands along Zeus, who ducked his head and leaned into the rubdown. Hera stood by, gazing at him in adoration, her tail wagging back and forth in excitement.
“They took up quite a ruckus.” Collette’s brother tugged at his cravat. He looked as worried as Addison felt—only without the dust and dirt in his hair and on his face. “Thank God.”
“I sent them back. One time I’m happy as hell they disobeyed.”
It was Rowan who’d realized something was wrong. Because when the dogs had returned home, they’d persisted in barking until the humans realized something was amiss. Addison didn’t know how they’d known, but they had.
And just in time.
A shudder ran through him.
Most of the structure had collapsed behind them just before he’d glimpsed freedom. If he hadn’t gotten them out of that room—if help hadn’t arrived at that precise moment that it did—Addison ran a hand down his face. They wouldn’t have survived.
If he could have walked out of there, he could have carried her. Having to crawl, he’d had to be more creative. But he’d been driven. Not knowing the extent of her injuries, he would have gone to hell and back if necessary to save her.
He very nearly had.
With the return of his canine friends and the arrival of both of their brothers and then several of his manservants, Addison had never felt more relief in his life. Rowan had added supports while Chaswick and one of the manservants pulled them free.
And when she came to once they made it into the open air, managing a weak laugh, he’d nearly cried.
But she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Black rimmed his vision at the memory of her poor little foot.
He would be with her now if Lady Chaswick hadn’t ordered him away.
Chaswick paced across the room for the hundredth time and Addison would have been pacing too if he wasn’t so bloody exhausted.
Every inch of his body ached from moving planks and bricks. Recalling how his mother had demanded the doctor look at him first, his disgust with her threatened to return. He would have banished her from his life, put her on a carriage for one of his distant estates, but he had Fiona to consider. So instead, he’d ordered her to her chamber and she’d saved herself by going without argument. Had she finally realized that she’d pushed too far?
His mother had hurt the love of his life, and then he had nearly gotten her killed.
He’d spend his life trying to make it up to her. She would be happy.
They both would.
“Your Grace, my lord.” The doctor appeared in the open doorway, a black leather bag at his side. “Although several muscles are strained, a few possibly torn, I don’t believe her foot is broken. But I’ve ordered her to stay off of it for at least eight weeks. If she follows my instructions, she’ll have a full recovery.”
“And the rest of her?” Addison had to be sure she hadn’t been injured anywhere else. “A few planks fell on us while I was bringing her out. I’m fairly certain I was able to cover her, but I need to be sure…”
The memory summoned black around the edge of his vision.
He hadn’t cared about his pain, but there had been moments when the weight had nearly been too much for him.
