Page 55 of The Burning Passion of a Fiery Lady
“Jasper!” she cried, running towards him.
She held her lantern high. Relief shuddered through her as she gazed down at him, although she had no idea if he was alive or dead.
Her eyes trailed over him. He was moaning, but his eyes were closed. He was also deathly white. A large amount of blood was still seeping from a wound to his head.
“Jasper,” she sobbed, hugging him tightly. “Oh, my love …”
He moaned softly again but still didn’t open his eyes.
She stood up abruptly, calling into the night. “David! Amy! I have found him!”
She didn’t wait for them to respond. Within seconds, she was on her knees again, cradling his head in her arms.
“Please live,” she begged, whispering into his hair. “Please. You must live, my love.”
She was crying noisily, her tears spilling down her face with abandon. They fell into his hair, but he didn’t flinch. He looked like he was barely breathing.
“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes blurring. “I love you so much. And it is the first time in my life that I have ever felt truly loved in return.” She hesitated for a moment, her heart so full of sadness it felt like it was about to break. “I forbid you to die, Jasper Stone. And I will do anything in my power to help you through this.”
He moaned, deep in his throat, but there was no flicker of recognition at anything she said.
She held him fiercely, still cradling his head, crying softly. She could feel him bleeding, a wet patch onto her blue silk dress, the dress that she had worn this evening so that he would think her beautiful.
It would be ruined now. But what did she care about such things? She could always buy more gowns. She was rich enough to buy a hundred of them, all at once, and still have room for more. But nothing could buy her this. Nothing could buy her love with a good man. A man who respected her. A rare man, a man who was one in a million, that she could never replace.
Dimly, she heard footsteps around her. Strong hands and arms, lifting her away from him. They grabbed him, hoisting him onto their shoulders. And then, she was walking back to the house, at his side.
It felt like a funeral march. It felt exactly the same as the day she had walked beside her husband, and they had put him into the ground.
***
She ordered that he be placed in the best guest room. They put him in the bed, gently, but he didn’t stir. Not when they set his head upon the pillow, or when they lifted his legs into the bed, covering him with a rough woollen blanket.
“Susannah,” Amy’s voice was urgent. “We must clean his wound.”
She nodded, too upset to even speak. Amy had already ordered water in a bowl, and a rag, which arrived at that moment. David hovered a distance away, his face pale.
“David,” she said, her voice ragged. “I know that you have done so much this evening. But I need you to do more before you can rest.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath. “Anything. You know that I will do anything.”
“The doctor needs to be fetched,” she said slowly. “He lives in the nearest village, the one that you were both going to stay in before I offered you lodging here.”
“Whitmere?”
“Yes,” she said. “He lives on the main street, in Whitmere. A grey stone house with white shutters. It is very distinct.” She paused. “Tell him that Mrs Drake needs him urgently. He will come if it is at my bidding.”
David nodded. “Yes. I will leave right away. I will take one of the horses …”
“Oh, and David?”
He turned back, gazing at her.
“Please, be quick.” Her voice shook, and tears sprang into her eyes again.
The next minute, he was gone. She turned back to Jasper, taking his hand. Amy sat on the other side of him, gently cleaning the wound. He didn’t flinch, not even a little bit, as she worked.
***
