“Yes.” He nodded. “Unless you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” she whispered.
There was a moment where his chin wobbled a fraction. “Will you stay with me?”
She caught her breath at that request, one that went against everything they had agreed to. “Theo,” she said again.
But he was already moving, uncoiling from his stiff position on the bench across from her to kneel before her on the carriage floor. He leaned up and gently cupped her cheeks, searching her face like he was looking for something he’d lost. Then he leaned in closer. She felt his breath touch her lips and her eyes fluttered shut. She met him halfway for the kiss.
If his hands on her face were gentle, the kiss wasn’t. It wasn’t rough, but it was desperate. She felt that from herself as she tried to forget that she might have died tonight. She felt it from him, as she assumed he lived through those same moments. He delved deeply, like he was trying to prove to himself that she was really there. Really whole. And she let him, gave back as good as she got. Let him sweep her away so the sharpness of fear faded just a little.
“Please stay with me tonight,” he repeated against her lips. This time his voice was shaky.
She nodded, felt her skin brush his they were so close. “Yes.”
He softened then, leaning forward to rest his forehead on her shoulder as his arms came around her. She felt the air come out of him, almost like he was collapsing, and she clung to him to hold him up. Felt him hold her up in return. And they rode the rest of the way to his home like that, keeping each other upright.
As if they could support each other forever. She just had to remember that they couldn’t.
* * *
Theo eased up onto the bench next to Etta as they made the final turn into his drive. He tucked her into his side, loving the feel of her head coming to rest on his shoulder. The carriage came to a stop, but he didn’t pull away as he felt the wobble of the footman coming down from the back of the carriage. Through the window, he also saw his driver come bounding down. He raced to the top of the stairs where Kimball was exiting the house to welcome Theo home and the two men talked. He could see Kimball’s expression grow worried.
At least he wouldn’t have to explain what had happened to the house staff. He didn’t think he could say the words out loud anyway. They were too raw and harsh.
“Can you come down on your own?” he asked against her hair.
She fisted her hand against his chest. “Yes. Thanks to you, I wasn’t injured, Theo.”
He lifted that same hand to his lips and brushed them against the scrapes on her knuckles. “You weren’tbadlyinjured.” She didn’t say anything and the footman opened the carriage door then. “I’ll get out first and help you.”
She nodded as he reluctantly released her and came down from the rig. He waved off the footman and extended his hand to her, steadying her with as much care as he could as she exited the rig. She took a deep breath of the night air. From the glow of the house, he saw that her hair had come half-down on one side, probably from when she’d hit the ground. The sleeve of her gown was torn almost completely off and the skirt was now spotted with mud and God knew what else from the pathway.
He pursed his lips and took her hand, guiding her up to where Kimball waited, his expression heavy with concern. As they entered the full light of the foyer, the butler’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, Your Graces,” he whispered. “Richards told me a bit of what happened. Are you both well?”
“We’re fine, Kimball,” Theo said, reaching out to squeeze the old man’s arm gently. “Shaken, but seemingly uninjured, though I don’t know how that is possible.”
“Do you need anything?” Kimball asked. “I can have some food readied or drinks or tea or—”
“No, you dear man,” Etta interrupted with a shaky smile. “Nothing.”
Theo leaned in closer so she wouldn’t have to hear his next direction. “Clean water, strong whisky and some extra cloths, please. You can put it all in the antechamber.”
“Immediately, Your Grace,” Kimball said with a quick nod before he hustled away.
Theo looked at her and she seemed so small in that moment. Like she’d shrunk with her fear. She was clearly still wobbly and tears filled her eyes often, though she always blinked them away rather than let them shed.
He gently took her hand. “Do you want to go into the parlor for a while or—”
“Your chamber,” she said with a shake of her head. “I just want to go upstairs and not have to…to…pretend to be well.”
He sucked in a breath. “Of course.”
He led her upstairs and into his bedchamber. He closed the door and heard servants enter the antechamber behind him, preparing everything he had asked for. He would fetch it all in a moment, but for now he just stared at her. She paced past the bed and to the window, staring out at the garden behind his house.
“You must have been terrified,” he said softly.
She didn’t turn. “I was,” she admitted after what felt like an interminable pause. “But I…I shouldn’t trouble you with that.”
