Page 71 of The Untamed Duke
“The goddamn fool...” Sebastian swore against her hair. “He’s gone in.
Fear unlike anything she’d ever experienced overtook Grace. Like a leaf caught up in a tornado, she trembled, fighting against Sebastian’s chest. “I must go after him...he won’t know where Skye is stalled...he’ll be lost. Please, let me go...let me go!”
“Darling…. his horse is safe,” Ivy cried, rushing up and wrapping her arms around Grace too. The three of them stood in a tight circle, husband and wife restraining their cousin. “He’s gone for Lly.”
Grace twisted to get free, her clothing clinging indecently until Ivy snatched a carriage blanket from a terrified stable boy and threw it around the both of them.
“He won’t reach him,” Grace screamed in near hysterics. “And if he does, Llyr won’t follow him out! Oh god. Oh, god!”
“Darling…. darling,” Ivy murmured, stroking Grace’s wet hair, unsure how else to console her.
Forcing her heart rate to slow, Grace focused on Sebastian’s stony features, eerily lit by flames and flashes of lightning. “Let me go, Sebastian. I must help him. I cannot allow Nicholas to do this. He could die while rescuing my horse.” She sobbed, uncontrollable gulps of despair, despite her efforts at calming herself. “Please...please. He’s in there…let me go after him.”
“Goddamnit.Goddamnit!” Sebastian thrust Grace fully into Ivy’s arms, shaking a finger at his wife. “Keep her here. No matter what.”
“Sebastian, you can’t...don’t you dare leave me!” Ivy cried, holding Grace so hard, she was leaving bruises on her arms.
“I’ll be right back, butterfly. You know I cannot allow that man the opportunity of throwing his honorable sacrifice in my face.”
He flashed a grim smile and landed a fierce kiss on Ivy’s lips. As he sprinted for the stables, he snatched Grace’s robe up, using it as a covering for his mouth.
“Sebastian!”
Ivy screamed for him, but her grip on her cousin did not ease, not until some moments later when Grace took a deep breath, swiping at her tears. For some inexplicable reason, a strange sense of calm overcame her, knowing Sebastian was going after Nicholas. With a good understanding of the stable layout, he knew exactly where Llyr’s stall was located.
“We are of no help just standing here.” Grace tugged herself from Ivy’s arms, then the two women watched, wide-eyed, as three of the five Ravenswood broodmares suddenly burst from the stable entrance. They were quickly followed by a handful of yearlings...not all of them, but at least half. Grace sent a prayer heavenward. It might not mean what she hoped, but the yearlings were stalled closer to Llyr. Perhaps the fire hadn't ravaged that far. Perhaps someone, Nicholas or Sebastian, unlatched their stall doors.
Their hands entwined, Grace pulled Ivy toward the line of men and procession of buckets. All the house servants were now assembled, including Mrs. Cooper, grey hair concealed under an old-fashioned white mop cap. Her plump form wrapped in a stunning, richly brocaded robe of scarlet red, she waved her cane, shouting instructions like a contentious brigadier general. If Grace wasn't frightened half out of her wits, she would have stared in absolute wonder at the housekeeper.
She dedicated herself to the task of passing buckets until her shoulders ached and her arms grew numb. The rough handles cut into her fingers, little rivulets of pink seeping onto her palms. Blood mingling with rain.
Beside her, Ivy toiled just as hard, mouth set in a grim line, her beautiful chestnut hair trailing down her back in wet, curling waves. She was so astoundingly beautiful, even disheveled and soot smudged. Grace felt a surge of love for the countess and utter sadness. The men they loved were inside that building, and they shared a fear for their safety.
It seemed the combination of well water and drizzling rain which morphed into a steady downpour was finally diminishing the flames. As their efforts slowed, so did the screams of the horses still trapped inside the stables. Grace did not know how much time had passed. Half an hour...perhaps more. With no sign of Nicholas, Sebastian or Llyr.
Nicholas. Oh, God, Nicholas…have I lost you?
“There!” Ivy shouted in relief, dropping a bucket and running toward the side of the stables. “There they are!”
Grace could not move as Sebastian stumbled toward them, half-carrying, half-dragging Nicholas. Both men were almost unrecognizable, their clothing and skin covered with black soot and char marks. Racking coughs filling the air as they came closer. Several men rushed forward, reaching for Nicholas, easing Sebastian's burden as Ivy launched herself into her husband’s arms.
Nicholas appeared dead. Half-dead, at least. In the dim light cast by the dying flames, Grace saw dark streaks on his face. She shook her head in silent denial. It couldn’t be what it looked like. It couldn’t be blood. She refused to believe it was blood. Why wasn’t he coughing like Sebastian? Why wasn’t he fighting off the hands holding him? Why wasn’t he coming to her and assuring her everything was all right? Why was Llyr not galloping free from the stables?
She finally forced her feet from their frozen state. Advancing on the group huddled around Nicholas, now lying prone on the ground, she pushed through everyone until she was kneeling beside him. Someone wiped his face with a wet cloth, forcing water between his lips
There was a gash on his left temple. Vivid red stains mingled with black. The same discolorations marred the previously white shirt, now a filthy shade of dark grey. He held a halter, clenched so tight between his fingers, the imprint of the buckles was surely etched into his flesh. It was Llyr’s halter.
Cradling Nicholas’s head in her lap, Grace lifted her eyes and found Sebastian. His own shirt was similarly marked with blood and soot. He forced himself to meet her gaze over Ivy’s head, his voice breaking when he spoke.
“He made it to Llyr’s stall, but the ceiling had already started to collapse. There was so much debris scattered about, I’m not sure what struck him. A rafter beam, perhaps. It’s blocking the entrance to the stall. Nicholas almost had him, Grace. Almost…”
A wave of despair rolled over Grace. The pain was almost unbearable, deep and stabbing. She began shaking.
“Is my horse dead?” Her voice was chillingly tranquil. It became stronger, bolder. “Is my horse dead?Is my horse dead?”
Sebastian shuddered, and Ivy let him go so she could sink down beside Grace, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. She was crying; Grace realized she was crying too. Silently. Screaming on the inside like the insane must.
“Yes,” Sebastian finally replied. “The beam landed partially on Llyr. He was pinned beneath it, sweetheart. It broke one of his forelegs, maybe both...he was suffering. I had to put him out of his misery.”
