Page 42 of The Baron's Return
He crouched, his years of military service kicking into action as he looked her over. He didn’t see any blood. After ensuring she was still breathing, he looked at the side of her head. There wasn’t any blood, but a small bump was beginning to form at her temple.
He didn’t realize that Gemma had followed him into the hallway until he heard her gasp.
“Mama!” Tears began to flow down her face.
“Fetch a doctor,” he commanded the nearest footman. Then he turned to his daughter. It was a struggle to keep his voice even. “Gemma, your mother is going to need you to be strong for her. Do you think you can do that?”
She nodded. The tears didn’t stop, but they did slow.
“Good girl. I’m going to make sure she’s okay and then carry her to her bed.”
“Can I stay with you?”
“Of course,” he said. “But we need to be strong so we can take care of her.”
She nodded. “I can do that.”
He turned back to his wife and started to look her over. Carefully he examined her arms and then her legs to see if she had any broken bones. He let out a breath when he didn’t detect any breaks.
He’d seen his fair share of injuries on the battlefield, and this was a task he’d hoped never to perform again.
He ran his hands over her body, carefully watching her face for even the smallest grimace of pain. He held his breath as he ran a hand along her spine, then along her ribs. Finally he probed gently at her neck. He’d seen men with broken necks before, and it almost made him physically ill to consider that his wife could be hurt in a similar manner.
When he detected no sign of injury aside from the small lump at her temple, he shifted her body with care and then lifted her into his arms.
He moved more slowly than normal, trying to keep his pace even as he carried her upstairs and down the hall. He didn’t have to ask Gemma to open Abigail’s bedchamber door, and then he was placing her on the bed with care.
When he stood by the bedside, a hollow ache in his chest as he stared down at Abigail, Gemma slipped her hand into his. Gemma’s breathing was uneven, but his daughter had done an admirable job of calming her tears.
“I’m scared,” she said.
Heaven help him, so was he. But he wouldn’t give voice to the words. Nothing bad would happen to Abigail.
He couldn’t lose her again.
He wasn’t shocked by his realization that he was still in love with this woman. That he would gladly trade places with her right now if it meant she would be well.
His feelings had been there for some time now, simmering just below his consciousness. He’d refused to think about them, dwelling instead on the fact that the two of them were companionable and that he was content with their marriage in its current state.
Companionable.
He wanted to laugh at his own stupidity. For trying to convince himself that he could live with Abigail, make love to her, and keep his emotions locked away.
He’d wanted to protect himself, but in the end he’d failed to do that. The only thing he’d succeeded in doing was making her unhappy.
Oh, she tried to hide it, but he could see the hurt in her eyes whenever he turned away from her. Hell, he’d seen it when he told her outright that he could never love her again.
Now he needed her to live so that he could tell her he’d been a fool. So that he could beg her forgiveness and ask her if she could ever come to love him again.
There was a soft knock at the door, and then it swung open and an older man stepped into the room.
“I’m Dr. Harris,” he said, his eyes already roving over Abigail. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Chapter 22
Consciousness came back to Abigail slowly. Wondering what time it was, she opened her eyes and turned toward the window. The drapes were open and it was still dark out. Relief flooded through her when she realized that her headache was almost gone. She raised a hand to her temple and found there was something on it. A bandage?
Then she remembered her fainting spell while on the stairs. Someone must have brought her to her room.
