I caught her against me, holding her tight as we both tensed, waiting for more. My breath caught in my chest and refused to leave as the seconds ticked by.
And then I heard it, the creak of another wooden bit on the carriage protesting its newfound weight.
Davina’s terrified eyes met mine, and I pulled her even tighter, bracing her. No sooner had I done it than I heard the final snap, and everything went dark.
Fourteen
NORTH ROAD—APRIL 11, 1817
DAVINA
“Kit?”I whispered into his chest when the carriage stopped crumbling around us.
When I received no response, I recognized that his grip about my waist had loosened.
“Kit!” I demanded, pulling away to look at him. There was a cut along his temple where his head must have hit the frame of the door. My chest tightened painfully as I unwound myself from his embrace. He slumped against the door while gravity made it difficult to extricate myself without crushing his prone form.
Carefully, I shook his shoulders. I couldn’t risk further injury to him or what was left of the wrecked carriage. A soft groan came from his chest and air filled my lungs.
“Kit? Can you hear me?”
A wince crossed his face but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Kit?”
He grunted. Blood poured freely from the cut on his head. The amount left me more than a little concerned.
“Are you hurt anywhere else? Can you move?”
“’S loud,” he grumbled in his usual disgruntled tone.
Relief pooled in my chest. “I know, but I need to know how badly you’re hurt.”
“’M fine,” he insisted, lashes fluttering now.
“We need to get out of the carriage before it collapses entirely. Can you move?”
“Carr-ge?”
“We were in a carriage accident. Do you remember?”
His eyelids opened, revealing panicked and unseeing beautiful brown eyes. The arm around my waist tightened almost to the point of pain. His breath was rapid and harsh against my chest.
“No, No. We’re all right for the moment. But we need to get out.”
Just outside, I heard Rory call, “Davina? Mr. Summers?”
“Here,” Kit called back, swirling with my own agreement.
“We’ll get ye out. Might want to brace yerselves though. We’re gonna cut the door open.”
“’S fine,” Kit replied but his tone was weak.
I wriggled against him, struggling to free myself.
“Stop tha’, what’re ya doin’?” he slurred.
“I don’t want to land on you,” I protested.
