“You’re covered in blood, sweet,” Valaria said.
Flora blinked and looked down at herself. She’d known her hands were bloody, but now she saw there was also blood on her gown. And grass and mud stains. Because she’d been attacked. Because Roarke had been injured.
She wobbled a little and Valaria caught her, shoring her up. “Come,” she ordered, and drew Flora up the hall just a few doors to the chamber Valaria had been sharing with Callum. “We won’t go far. And I’ll tell a servant to let us know as soon as the doctor has finished.”
Flora let them take her. She sat where she was directed to sit in the chamber and watched as Valaria rushed back out to tell the servants what to do. There was a basin of clean water by the window and Bernadette got a cloth. She returned to sit across from Flora and slowly began to wipe her hands clean.
But even as the blood was washed away, Flora feared she would never be the same. Because of what had happened to her and because it had been Roarke who rode to her rescue.
“I know you must be afraid,” Bernadette said, squeezing her hands before she returned to the basin and rinsed the cloth, turning the water pink.
Flora turned her head. “He came out of nowhere,” she whispered.
“The man who attacked?”
She nodded and then wrinkled her brow. “And Roarke. He came out of nowhere and he…he saved me.” She bent her head. “What if he dies? What if I lose him?”
Bernadette returned to her side and held her gently for a moment before she went back to washing away the blood on her skin. “He won’t die.”
“How can you know that?” she sobbed softly.
Bernadette tilted her chin up. “Because it seems he might have too much to live for.”
Flora sucked in a breath and then leaned forward to rest her forehead on Bernadette’s shoulder. She had no idea if that was true, or if her hopes and fears and will could somehow keep Roarke safe.
All she knew was that she couldn’t imagine losing him for good. She couldn’t imagine anything but being able to go into that room and find him whole and well for her. So she kept hoping, praying as the clock ticked mercilessly in the background.
* * *
Roarke’s head was swimming, though he was beginning to have more clarity as he sat on the bed in a fine chamber in Callum’s home, the doctor perched beside him, stitching the gash above his eyebrow.
He winced as the needle pierced his flesh and looked to where Callum and Theo were standing, both watching him with unreadable expressions. “I’m sorry,” he said when the silence felt like it stretched for a lifetime. “For what I did in London. I’m sorry.”
Callum turned away and Theo drew in a long breath. “It’s her you need to apologize to, not us. Though I suppose saving her life goes a long way toward that.”
Roarke gripped his hands at his sides. “I do owe you an apology regardless. Callum, you accused me of using our friendship to get to her, and you were right. I did.”
Callum cursed beneath his breath and shook his head, his disdain for Roarke written all over his face. After the weeks of renewed friendship, it stung to see it here. Stung worse that he entirely deserved it.
“It was bloody awful,” he continued. “I hated myself for it. And if you two hate me for the rest of my life, as well, I will have earned that ire. As for her…I didn’t come here because I wanted to earn back her regard. I came here because I knew my cousins were determined to harm her.”
“Your cousins were behind this?” Theo burst out as both men moved toward him.
The doctor placed a hand against Roarke’s throbbing forehead. “Hold still now. You’re going to make it worse.”
“Hardly possible,” Roarke said. “And yes. The man who attacked her and did this to me was hired by my cousins. It seems that if they cannot ruin her, at least one of them believes the answer is to end her.”
His blood ran cold with that thought. And with the memory of what he had seen that day. “I came here to warn her and found out that there was a man asking about her at the inn. I managed to follow him and that’s how I was able to stop him when he attacked her.”
She had been on her back on the trail, her hands raised, her eyes filled with fear as that bastard loomed over her, knife in his hand and cruel intentions in his eyes. Roarke would have done anything to save her in that moment. He would have sacrificed everything and anything. And perhaps he had.
“Are you almost finished?” he asked the doctor. “I must ride back to London.”
The doctor lifted his eyes with a snort. “You aren’t riding a horse after you lost consciousness from a blow to the head. You need to stay quiet for at least a day or two to recover.”
“I cannot,” Roarke said, and started to shove past the man to get up off the bed. The doctor pushed him back and Callum stepped forward to do the same.
“You must listen to him now,” Callum said. “You’ll kill yourself.”
