Page 100 of Unforeseen Affairs
They struggled for what felt an eternity.
Finally, when it was beginning to seem that there was no end to the sea of heavy fabric, Colin and the other men reached the weighted bottom of the curtain. Colin seized the portion in front of him and, terrified by what he might find, lifted it to reveal the woman he loved lying limp on the floor, her eyes closed.
“Charlotte!”
And then she shifted, rolling gingerly onto her side as she was disentombed from the expanse of velvet. Coated in dust, she sneezed several times in quick succession, then opened her eyes. Her face was streaked with dirt and twisted in pain.
Colin fell to the ground, grateful beyond words, and cradled her head in his hands as he looked her up and down, searching for any hint of injury.
“Colin?”
Her voice was raspy, and so strained that fear struck him anew.
“Yes, darling, I’m here, I’ve got you.”
He lifted her gently into a sitting position. She drew a sharp intake of breath, and her face went pale.
“What? What is it? Are you hurt?”
“The batten…” she said, wide-eyed in disbelief. When she shifted to look up at where it had once been, she gasped in pain.
“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. At the edge of his vision, he saw Mr. Bass slowly crawl from underneath the other side of the curtain.
“I…” She held her left arm limply against her middle, wincing. “My wrist feels something vicious.”
“What else?”
She moved her legs, bending and extending as she tested each one, then cautiously rolled her neck and shoulders. “I… I feel sore… but I believe the wrist is the worst of it.” She released a shuddering sigh.
The relief Colin felt was so overwhelming he nearly collapsed, as if he were the one all the rigging had fallen on. His eyes stung, and he shut them, letting the tears fall as he offered a silent prayer of thanks.
“Right. Let’s get you off this stage.”
Delicately he scooped her up, cradling her right side against him, and did his best not to upset her injured wrist as he picked his way between the still-hanging curtains flanking the wing.
“Wait!” she gasped. She was swiveling her head about, taking in the scene for the first time. “Mr. Bass! Where has—”
“Right now I don’t give a damn,” Colin growled. “There’ll be time to worry about him later.”
Charlotte looked from the stage to the wing, and Colin saw her eyes nearly pop from her head as she spotted the prone form of Mr. Trenwith, still lying on the floor where Colin had left him.
“Is he—”
“No,” Colin scoffed. “At least, I highly doubt it.”
As they passed Trenwith, Colin paused and poked at him with his boot. There was no movement. Concealing his alarm, Colin kicked the man over, rolling him onto his back with some effort. Trenwith’s chest rose and fell ever so slightly.
“See? Right as rain,” Colin said with a forced cheerfulness.
Charlotte stared at him.
“What?”
“He looks badly hurt,” she stated.
Never before would Colin have imagined himself capable of punching a defenseless man. But Trenwith had threatened to kill Charlotte, and never before had Colin ever loved someone the way he loved her.
“He’ll live,” he said.
