A Warriner To Protect Her. Virginia Heath
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to the hall, leaving his brother to do what was necessary and feeling impotent in the process. As each layer of grime and embedded grit was removed, Joe commented on how miraculous it was that the woman was not more injured, yet she did not regain consciousness nor did she lose her deathly colour. Despite the now roaring fire in the enormous stone fireplace and the heap of blankets that swaddled her, her core temperature did not increase. Her swollen lips were blue tinged, her hands and feet like icicles.
‘She must have been out in the cold for hours, Jack. I am worried she actually has hypothermia. She’s barely breathing now and her pulse is definitely slowing.’
‘What can I do?’ Because there had to be something. The idea of her dying in their house tonight was horrifying. Not after he had done his best to save her, seen the stark terror in her eyes.
‘You gather her up, Jack—share your body heat with her while I finish with all of the other injuries.’
‘Share my body heat?’ It sounded far-fetched, but Joe had proved to be right before. ‘How exactly do I do that?’
‘Hold her in your lap like a child.’ Joe lifted her carefully at the base of the shoulders, exposing her bare back. They swaddled the blankets around her like a baby’s shawl and Jack sat so the pair of them could manoeuvre her into his lap.
It was all well and good Joe telling him to hold her like a child—but it was blatantly obvious she was no child. There was too much of her, so his brother tucked her legs up beneath the covers to warm her extremities, while Jack smoothed his palms briskly along the sides of her arms in an attempt to create some heat from the friction. Her back and bottom were so cold he could feel the chill through the layers of woollen blanket and his clothing, and if she had not been breathing he would have thought he was holding a long-dead corpse. He gathered her close protectively and wrapped his arms about her, hoping she would absorb whatever warmth she needed from his body, crooning to her as his brother towel-dried her sodden, matted long hair before wrapping a blanket around her head too.
‘If she was awake, I could make her drink something. Warm milk or tea might help to speed up the process.’ Joe ran his hands through his thick dark hair in agitation. ‘I suppose I could try and spoon some into her?’
All Jack could do was shrug. He had no clue as to what should be done and from his position beneath the girl, he was hardly in a state to assist his brother further. Being powerless was not something he excelled at. He hated feeling so useless when he was usually the one in control. All he could do was continue to hold her cradled in his arms, searching her wan face for signs of life. As he waited for Joe to return from the kitchen, his other two brothers returned. Both looked as if they had just walked through a hurricane.
‘Only an idiot would be out in that!’ said Jamie, shaking off the rain. ‘But the gates are bolted and we saw nothing in the lane. If somebody turns up, we’ll all deny any knowledge of your mystery damsel until we know what the hell this is all about. How is she?’ He limped painfully towards the sofa and stared down at the still bundle in Jack’s arms.
‘Joe’s patched her up as best as he can for the time being. Now we’re trying to get her warm.’
Jamie did not instil a great deal of confidence with his next words. ‘I’ve seen many a man killed from exposure to the elements. It’s when they stop shivering you have to really worry. Is she shivering?’
She was not. Jack did not want to think about what that meant. ‘She won’t die!’ Not if he had anything to do with it. ‘Joe is fetching some warm milk.’ As if milk was some magic medicine nobody had known about which would miraculously cure a poor girl who was almost frozen to death. Jack stared down at her. She was so still, and so frighteningly pale, she could almost have been carved out of alabaster. He remembered the fear he had seen in her wide eyes when she collided with him and hoped those awful few minutes would not be the last she was doomed to remember. ‘I don’t even know her name.’
Jacob, so far silent, went to the pile of wet clothes discarded on the floor and began to rifle through them.
‘She was not in the army, fool,’ Jamie said dismissively, ‘I doubt she will have her rank, surname and number written on her petticoats.’
‘You’d be amazed what ladies keep in their petticoats.’ Jacob did not look up from his task. ‘Although to know that, you would have to know how to charm the ladies, Jamie, which you don’t.’ He sat back on his heels and triumphantly waved a small square of intricately embroidered linen. ‘I, on the other hand, am very charming. Her name is Letty.’ He balled up the damp cloth and threw it at Jamie’s head. ‘It says so on her handkerchief.’
Jack stroked his index finger gently over her cheek and willed her to wake up. ‘Letty. Letty, sweetheart, can you hear me?’
* * *
Letty. Letty, sweetheart, can you hear me?
She did not recognise the voice, but it had a calming lilt to it even though it came from a strange man. It was not Bainbridge and it was not her uncle. That was all that mattered. Letty struggled to open her eyes, but they would not budge. She was so very tired. So tired she did not have the strength to be frightened. Something was pulling her upwards to a place she wanted to go, yet something, someone, held her firm, preventing her from floating away. She was cocooned rather than imprisoned. Safe.
She felt something warm trickle down her throat. She couldn’t taste it. Strong arms around her. More of the warm liquid. Letty. Try to swallow, sweetheart. Sweetheart? That was nice. Nobody had ever called her sweetheart before. We need to warm you up. Now that she considered it, she was cold. Every part of her ached. Not surprising considering what had happened to her. Bainbridge. The carriage. The woods.
Panic came afresh. What if they had found her? She forced her eyes open. Intense blue eyes met hers. You’re safe, Letty. They were beautiful eyes. Troubled eyes. Reassuring eyes. I am going to look after you, sweetheart. I promise. The deep lilting voice crooned against her ear. She sighed. It was all she had the strength to do and her eyes fluttered closed again. The painful gag was gone. And he was holding her.
There were worse ways to go.
One month and one day remaining...
Letty experienced the sensation of falling and it woke her with a start. It took her a few moments to focus in the daylight, but when she did two pairs of identical blue eyes were staring down at her. Frightened, she had intended to scream; the strangled mewling noise she managed was really quite pathetic.
‘Shh...’ said one of the pairs of eyes kindly. ‘Everything is all right. You are safe here.’
She could make out the blurry edges of the speaker’s face. Dark hair. Smiling. Next to him stood another man who looked strikingly similar. They were definitely related. The same dark hair, the same deep blue eyes, but he was frowning. She knew those eyes.
‘My brother rescued you from the road,’ the smiling man said, stroking one of her hands, ‘You have had a bit of a fever and you are badly bruised, but miraculously you have made a very fast and splendid recovery. What you need to do now is rest. Give your body time to heal. In a few days, you will be as fit as a fiddle.’
Letty tried to speak, to ask where she was. However, her mouth felt so woolly, her tongue would not move. Her eyes flicked to the frowning man and he continued to frown, until the smiling man next to him gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs and he forced himself to smile. It did not touch his eyes. Letty could not quite make out whether the emotion swirling in those fathomless blue depths was concern or annoyance.
‘Why were you tied up and wandering in the woods?’ The smile slipped off his face as he stared down at her.
Again her stupid tongue would not move and she made some garbled sound.
‘Leave her be, Jack. You can interrogate the poor girl once she is better.’
Interrogate?