Page 21 of The Homecoming (The De Montforte Brothers #6)

Chapter Seventeen

“ W hat on earth was that noise?”

At the pianoforte Nerissa paused, her fingers still on the keys. They had all heard it, even over the music: A sharp crack from outside, a crashing boom, and a thudding reverberation.

Lucien, who had been leaning against the mantle enjoying his sister’s considerable talent, immediately straightened and went to the window. He parted the drapes. Let them fall shut. And then, his face grave, he hurried from the room.

“Lucien?”

As one, they all jumped up from chairs and settee and rushed after him just as the great medieval doors opened and Charles, soaked and disheveled, came rushing into the Great Hall, laboring under the weight of a man slung over his left shoulder.

Nerissa, the last in the line that had come running, screamed. “ Ruaidri! ”

“Someone call out Dr. Highworth,” Charles gasped. “And hurry.”

“I’ll go,” Gareth said, and ran headlong down the hall and out the door that Charles had just entered.

A flurry of voices. Confusion. Cries of horror and alarm and dear God, what happened?

Nerissa absorbed it all in a shocked daze.

She was aware of Eva’s calming presence at her side, Celsie there at her shoulder, of Lucien and Andrew rushing forward to help Charles.

Her legs went to jelly, and she leaned heavily against the duchess.

And now her brothers were hurrying past with Ruaidri, who was not moving, who was pale and lifeless and still.

They rushed him toward the stairs, Lucien ascending backward with his hands under his shoulders and blood already darkening his hand, Andrew and Charles supporting his legs, Ruaidri’s wet, bare feet bobbing with every step.

Nerissa fought a wave of darkness, and with a cry, picked up her skirts and ran after them.

The brothers moved quickly down the hall and into her old apartments.

“Let’s get him into bed. Hurry.”

Nerissa began to shake uncontrollably, steepling her hands and driving them against her lips on a quiet prayer as she followed them into the room.

She stood frozen and leaning heavily against Eva, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, her stomach sick with sudden nausea as Celsie quickly turned down the covers and the brothers, their faces grave, gently laid Ruaidri down onto the bed.

He was motionless, his fine lawn shirt torn beneath his armpit and soaked with blood.

Nerissa felt a giant wave of emotion pushing up from her throat, welling into her sinuses, her eyes, and with a heartbroken sob, she ran to her husband.

“What happened?” she heard Eva murmur behind her.

But Nerissa knew. She knew because she and Ruaidri had stolen a few moments together in this very bed not an hour before, and as she had lain with her head comfortably nestled in the cup of his shoulder, he had stroked her hair and looked up in the darkness at the elegant hangings above.

“That kitten,” he’d said softly. “’Tis bothering me, it is, knowin’ she’s out there in the dark. Rain’s coming in.”

“I know.”

“Later on, after everyone’s gone to bed, I’ll go out and see if she’s still up there. I’ll fetch her down if she is.”

“I love you, Ruaidri.”

“I love ye too, mo grá . And don’t ye go tellin’ anyone, now. I don’t want to make a big show of it. I’ll just go out when people are asleep and bring the poor creature down with no one the wiser. Let everyone think she came down all by herself. ’Tis better that way.”

“Yes,” she’d said, knowing that Ruaidri emerging as the hero of the day would only make Charles feel inferior and anger him all the more.

She knew it, and Ruaidri knew it too. It was unlike Ruaidri to be willfully invisible.

It just wasn’t in his nature. But he was doing it for her.

Hoping against hope to make things better between himself and Charles, and therefore, for her and her family so something, at least, could be salvaged from this nightmarish visit.

Voices around her called her back to the present.

“What do you mean, the branch broke?” Juliet asked, frowning. “How far up was he?”

“Far enough.”

“What was he doing up in the tree?”

“I think we can all guess what he was doing up there,” Lucien murmured. “Obviously retrieving the cat.”

“The cat that you brought out and set loose,” Nerissa accused.

“Easy now,” Andrew said. “Even Lucien couldn’t have known that all this would happen. That’s unfair.”

Nerissa sucked her lips between her teeth and bit down hard to stifle the great sobs welling in her throat.

Someone brought a chair up to the bed for her and coaxed her to sit.

She reached out and smoothed her husband’s wet hair back off his forehead, seeing his closed eyes, his parted lips, and still features through the blur of gathering tears.

She heard the murmur of voices and sensed movement behind her as servants filed in, quickly lighting candles and stoking up the fire.

She heard a whimpering in her own throat as she tried to maintain her composure, and then her vision went glassy and the first hot tears spilled from her eyes.

Eva’s hand was on her shoulder. Nerissa knew she was saying something, trying to soothe her, but the words were lost on her as she took her husband’s cold hand in her own, bent her head to his, and let the tears, unstoppable now, fall on his damp cheek.

Behind her Lucien, his eyes dark with pain, nodded to Eva.

The duchess motioned to Juliet and Celsie, and the three women quietly left the room.

Lucien took charge.

“Let’s get our dear Ruaidri out of these wet clothes so he doesn’t catch a chill. Easy, now. Best not to move him any more than we already have, I think.”

Charles went to the door where a footman waited just outside and murmured quiet instructions for a pair of shears.

Nerissa pushed back as her brothers lifted her husband, pulled his breeches down and off and quickly drew the blanket back up over his hips.

She tried not to look at the terrible, spreading splotch of blood beneath his arm and steeled herself as Lucien, taking the shears that were hurriedly brought, cut through Ruaidri’s shirt.

Please be all right, Ruaidri. Please, God, let him be all right...

She took up her husband’s hand once more and rubbed his knuckles, willing him to wake up, dreading that he would not.

Her mind tried to go to frightening places, the what-ifs and visions of a life without this man she loved more than anything in the world stabbing at her, trying to prepare her for the worst. Savagely, she shoved the visions back and refused to think such thoughts, focusing instead on the gentle rise and fall of Ruaidri’s ribs and the soft sound of his breathing.

As long as he breathes, he’s alive.

The doctor is on his way ... Dr. Highworth, he will know what to do...

“Is it bad?” she whispered, not daring to look as Lucien put the shears down.

Andrew was on the other side of the bed, gently peeling the wet, bloodied shirt away from Ruaidri’s torso.

“I’m no surgeon,” he said. “But everything looks intact, and the blood appears to be from a deep, uh, scratch along his side.”

“Probably caught the branches as he fell,” Lucien added. He turned his head to look at Charles, standing silently near the door and looking stricken. “How far up the tree was he?”

“Hard to say in the darkness. Thirty feet, maybe?”

“Ruaidri’s too smart to go so high that a limb wouldn’t support him. I must have the gardener inspect those beeches, look for insects ... rot ... disease. This should never have happened.”

Nerissa, one hand pressed to her mouth, finally dared to look. The wound was more than a scratch; in fact, she could see the gleam of an exposed bit of rib beneath a flap of loose and bloodied skin. Her head swam and she looked away, suddenly nauseous.

He will be fine ... he will be fine ... the doctor will be here soon...

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Charles looking gravely down at Ruaidri. His face was tight with emotion, and he turned his pale blue gaze on her.

“I’m sorry, Nerissa.” His throat moved. “I’m sorry ... this is my fault. All of it.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Lucien said firmly. He had gone to the window and parted the drapes, holding one aside as he stared out into the night.

“It was an accident,” Charles continued, his face raw with suffering. “I know that I haven’t exactly taken to your husband, Nerissa, but I would never, ever—”

“Charles, I would never accuse you of causing this!” Nerissa whispered. “Please don’t think that.”

“I know you won’t believe it, but I went out there to try to get the cat down myself.

Mary was crying. Amy was upset. I was upset, too, knowing my animosity, my behavior, had driven you to want to leave tomorrow.

” He swallowed hard. “I found your husband’s shoes and stockings on the ground, and he was already up in the tree. Did you know about this?”

“I knew he was planning on it.”

“Why didn’t he tell anyone? Why didn’t you?”

“His intent was to try to rescue the kitten later, much later, after everyone was abed.”

“Why then? Why not ask for help?”

“Because he didn’t want to call any attention to himself.” She looked up at her brother. “Or do anything that would make you despise him all the more.”

Charles looked away and said nothing.

“He wasn’t even going to tell anyone he got the cat down, if he succeeded,” Nerissa added. “He didn’t want the credit.”