“Get out of the way.” Lucas was pushing his way through the crowd of their friends. He dropped down beside Sarah’s body and waved Kit off. He stared as Lucas leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers.
Kit jerked his face toward Diana, but she didn’t seem to be troubled or surprised by this…was it a kiss? What was the point now?
“Come on, sweetheart, work with me,” Lucas grunted as he lifted his mouth from Sarah’s. He jerked his face into the crowd. “Diana!”
She didn’t hesitate, but shoved Kit aside none too gently. He got to his feet and stared along with the others as she began to gently press Sarah’s chest. Lucas put his mouth back on Sarah’s, and it was then that Kit realized his friend wasn’t kissing her. He was breathing into her.
Breathing her back to life.
Hope flared. He had no idea if such a thing would work, but he gripped his hands into fists at his sides as he prayed it would.
“Please,” he murmured, not caring that the mournful sound was out loud now, heard by all. “Oh, please don’t take her. I will do anything.”
They continued their work for another moment and then Sarah turned her head and retched water onto the shore. She gasped for air, one breath, two, and Kit went down to his knees as he realized she was alive. She was alive.
The sobs of his friends turned to gasps of relief, joy and disbelief. He hardly heard any of it as he reached out to touch Sarah’s hand again. She turned her face, her blue eyes locking with his.
“Ph-ph-phoebe,” she managed through the shivers that now wracked her.
“Is fine,” he said as he bent and swept her into his arms. “You saved her life.” She didn’t fight him, but her head lolled into his shoulder. He looked at the group. “We need to get them up to the house and everyone dry.”
“Yes, that water was frigid,” Diana said. “Everyone needs to change their clothes so none of you catch your deaths. Sarah more than anyone.”
Kit was already striding up the hill, retracing the path they had come down with such laughter and happiness what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Y-your Gr-gr-grace,” Sarah whispered without lifting her head. He ignored her, though her warm breath on his wet neck was the most beautiful sensation he’d ever felt in his life. “K-Kit! Please, I c-can w-walk—”
He glared down at her. “Please shut up,” he snapped, sharper than he should have been but unable to do anything else thanks to the fear that still coursed through his veins. He felt her collapse against him again, her weak protests gone now.
He was almost to the house now. Barrymore must have been doing something in the parlor and seen their approach, because the door flew open and he hurried out to the step.
“Your Grace?” he called out, face lined with deep concern.
“Miss Carlton had an accident,” he said. “Is my chamber at the ready?”
Barrymore looked confused but did not comment on the odd request, just said, “Yes, Your Grace. They just finished with it. The fires are still lit.”
“Good,” Kit said as he carried Sarah up the stairs two by two. He could hear everyone else talking to the butler, explaining to him what Kit had not been able to say out loud for fear of reliving those awful moments in the water and at its edge. He couldn’t do that, not when she was still unwell.
“N-n-not your ch-chamber,” she murmured.
Once again he ignored her protest and strode through his chamber door. Two maids, Jill and Lydia, were just finishing up their work, and both of them stopped and stared in horror at the soaking wet image before them.
“Your Grace!” Jill cried. “Is that Miss Carlton?”
He moved to rest her on his bed, but Diana and Hugh’s wife Amelia raced into the room.
“No!” Diana called out. “You’ll make the bed wet. Put her on the settee. Amelia and I will take care of her.”
He placed Sarah gently on the settee as they’d asked.
“I’ll r-ruin i-it,” she said, staring up at him weakly.
“I don’t care,” he managed through clenched teeth.
“Now get out,” Amelia said, grabbing his arm and guiding him to the door. “You need to change out of those wet clothes. Check on your sister.”
“Phoebe?” he whispered.
