A Risk Worth Taking (19 page)

He took another cloth and dipped it in water, then held it against her forehead. She was pale and so horribly lifeless. “Annie,” he whispered in her ear. “Can you hear me? I want you to wake up. Can you open your eyes?”

He stroked his fingers down her cheek and kept the damp cloth against her forehead. He was cold inside, as cold as he’d ever been in his life. As cold as fear could make a person. He brushed his lips against her cheek and talked to her. Finally, the door opened, and Dr. Thornton entered. He stopped at the side of the bed.

“What happened?” He touched Anne’s forehead with his hand, then placed his fingers against her neck.

“She was struck by a carriage. She has a cut on the back of her head, but I think the bleeding has stopped.”

“Let’s take a look.”

Thornton removed the towel Griff had pressed against her, then turned her head so he could examine the wound. “Griff, why don’t you step outside for a moment while I examine Lady Anne.”

Griff hesitated, but Patience placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Go on outside, Griff. Dr. Thornton will call if he needs anything.”

“I’ll be right outside the door.”

“That’s fine,” the doctor said, already starting his examination.

Griff walked into the hall and dropped his head to his hands. Why hadn’t he seen the carriage coming? Why hadn’t he paid more attention to what was going on around him? How could he have forgotten how dangerous it was for anyone to be near him? Griff wasn’t sure how he’d manage if Anne didn’t survive.

The wait took an eternity, but finally Patience opened the door. Griff rushed into the room and went to Anne’s side.

“We’re going to have to put a few stitches in that cut,” Dr. Thornton said. “Help me turn her over, Griff.”

Griff carefully lifted her. She suddenly seemed very fragile. The doctor cut the hair around the gash, then pushed the threaded needle through her flesh. Griff’s mind echoed a fervent prayer with each stitch.

When Thornton finished, Griff laid her back down and covered her with the blanket.

“Other than her head,” Dr. Thornton said, putting a pillow beneath her, “she doesn’t seem to be injured. Just a scraped knee and a bruise on her hip where she must have hit the cobblestones.”

“When will she wake up?”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe in an hour. Maybe a day. There’s no way of knowing.”

“So, now what?”

“We’ll watch her. We should know more by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I know it’s difficult, but sometimes these things take time.”

Griff touched his fingers to Anne’s face.

“She’ll be fine now, Griff,” Dr. Thornton said, checking his patient again. “I suggest we all have a cup of tea. Lady Covington, perhaps one of the servants can sit with her until we return.”

“No. I’ll stay.” Griff looked down on Anne’s pale complexion. He couldn’t leave her.

“Very well,” Patience said, as if realizing it was useless to argue with him. “I’ll have one of the maids stay here with you.”

Griff nodded as the maid Dolly busied herself on the other side of the room.

“Griff,” Patience said from the doorway. “I nearly forgot. That young man who followed us home from the accident is waiting downstairs.”

“Send him up. I’ll talk to him here.”

When they left, Griff pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down. He reached for Anne’s hand and held it, gently rubbing his thumb over her fingers. “I’m right here, Anne. I won’t leave you. You rest now and when you’re ready, you can open your eyes and yell at me all you want.”

He placed his hand on her forehead and gently brushed her hair from her face.

“Griff?”

Griff turned as Jack Hawkins entered the room. Was this the man who’d fired the bullet that had killed Freddie, and hired the carriage that ran Anne down? His blood boiled when he thought it might be, but he didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. This was the man who’d saved his life twice during the war.

When Jack Hawkins stopped at the foot of the bed, Griff got up from his chair and went to where he stood.

“How is she?” Jack asked.

“Still unconscious. I keep thinking that if I talk to her, she’ll hear my voice and wake up.”

Jack Hawkins nodded.

“Did you see anything, Jack? Anything that might give us a clue as to who tried to run me down?”

“No. I was too far away. I didn’t see the carriage move until it was too late.”

Griff clenched his hands into tight, angry fists. “Damn! Why doesn’t the bastard just kill me and have it over?”

Jack Hawkins didn’t answer Griff but stared down at Anne’s still body lying beneath the covers. After a long silence, he took in a huge breath that expanded his chest and turned so he was eye to eye with Griff.

“Griff?”

Griff took in the serious expression on Jack’s face.

“I don’t think you’re the person anyone wants to kill.” Hawkins lowered his gaze to where Anne lay on the bed. “I think the driver ran down the person he intended to hit. I think someone wants the lady dead.”

I
f there was ever a time in his life that he wanted a drink, it was now.

Griff bolted from the chair where he’d sat for the past eight hours and paced the room. The drapes were open and the light from the full, bright moon shone through the windowpanes onto the bed where she lay.

He wasn’t sure he could sit here without a drink in his hand hour after bloody hour without knowing if she would live or not, without knowing if she would ever wake. He wanted just one drink so he could make it through this. Then he would need a second drink, and a third, and even that would not guarantee he could forget the terrified expression on her face when she saw the carriage careening toward her. A drink would not help him forget her frightened scream, or the sight of her fragile body being thrown through the air and landing on the cobblestones. There wasn’t enough liquor in the whole of England to make him forget the terror that raged through him.

Just stay with me. I’ll help you.

The soft, whispered words that had been his comfort since he’d stopped drinking echoed in his mind. He held her hand as if he could make those words come true for her.

Except for the few minutes it had taken him to wash and change out of his bloodstained clothes, he’d refused to leave her bedside. Patience had sent up a tray of food earlier, but he’d hardly touched it. Even Adam eventually gave up trying to bully him into eating or getting some rest.

Jack Hawkins’s words raced through his head.
I don’t think you’re the person anyone wants to kill. I think the driver ran down the person he intended to hit.

Griff lifted her delicate hand in his. That couldn’t be true. Who would want Anne dead? Who could possibly want to harm her?

His mind went back to Jack Hawkins. What if Griff had judged him wrong? What if the report was true, and Hawkins wanted revenge because Griff had been responsible for his brother’s death? What if Hawkins had been the driver of the carriage and Anne had gotten in the way? His made-up story about the driver wanting to hit Anne would certainly add confusion about what Griff thought he saw, and steer the attention away from Hawkins.

“Anne,” he whispered again, gently brushing back a wisp of hair that had fallen across her forehead. “Ah, Annie.”

The pressure in his chest grew painfully tight and he looked at her gentle features. No. There was no way anyone could want to hurt her. Just like her brother, she didn’t have an enemy in the world. It was him. He was the one the killer wanted. As he’d been the one the killer had been after when Freddie had been shot.

Griff knew it would not end until either he or the killer was dead. And anyone who got in the way would get hurt. He never should have put her in such danger.

An icy chill raced through his veins. Could that have been the reason she’d been run over? Because someone thought she was important to him? Because someone hated him so much that they would kill anyone close to him? Like Freddie? Like her?

His breath came out on a shuddered sigh. Surely not. Surely no one was that cold-blooded. But he knew it was possible. And if making him suffer was the reason Anne had been run over, he had to make sure he kept as far away from her as possible. And Adam, and Patience, and the boys. He did not want to think who might be next.

He rose to his feet and paced the room, struggling to keep his fear at bay. As soon as he was sure she was all right, he would leave her. He would stay in the open to make himself a target. With Fitzhugh’s help, they would ferret out the killer. If he survived, he would decide then what to do.
If
he survived…

He raked his fingers through his hair and tried not to think about the future.

“What time is it?”

Griff’s heart skipped a beat, and he turned toward the bed. She was awake.

“The clock downstairs just struck three. You’ve taken quite a long nap, my lady.”

“Were you worried I would sleep away the rest of my life?”

He sat in the chair and gathered one of her hands in his. “Silly of me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she answered, but her voice sounded weak. “Hardly worth the effort.”

“I will be the judge of that. Can I get you anything?”

“Some water. I’m terribly thirsty.”

Griff picked up the glass Dr. Thornton had left on the bedside table, then placed his hand behind her shoulders and helped her up. She moaned in pain the minute he lifted her.

“I hurt all over.”

“I know. Drink this. It will make you feel better.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. But Dr. Thornton said you were to drink it the minute you woke. He said it would help the pain.”

“I think my head is going to split open,” she whispered, touching the side of her head, then grimacing as another wave of pain hit her.

“Drink it, Anne.”

He lifted it to her mouth and helped her tip the glass until all the liquid was gone. “Now, lie back down and stay still. But don’t go to sleep. Dr. Thornton said under no circumstances were you to go back to sleep. Are you still awake?”

“Yes,” she said with her eyes closed. “I’m awake. But it hurts too much to keep my eyes open.”

“Then close your eyes, but don’t go to sleep.”

She mumbled something he couldn’t understand, but he was so thankful she was awake, he didn’t care. She repeated it anyway.

“What happened to me?”

He hesitated. “How much do you remember?”

“I’m not sure. I remember our argument, and walking away from you. And then…there was a carriage coming down the street. I couldn’t get out of the way soon enough.”

“You were thrown to the side of the road and landed on the cobblestones. You hit your head. Dr. Thornton had to sew the cut in your head.”

Her eyes flew open. “Did he have to cut my hair?”

“Only a little. As long as you wear your hair loose, no one will notice.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “That is vain of me, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yes, terribly. But I’ll excuse you this once.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed against the pillows and closed her eyes. “Have you been here the whole time?”

He sat back in his chair. “Yes. I drew the short stick.”

“How unlucky of you.”

“It’s all right. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Griff?”

“Yes.” He leaned forward to straighten her covers. His fingers brushed against hers and a warm shot raced through him. He pulled his hand away and sat back.

“You must not blame yourself.”

He stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. You’re blaming yourself for what happened.”

“And how do you know it wasn’t my fault?”

“I just do.”

“Did you see anything that might help us recognize the driver?”

“No. By the time I realized what was happening, the carriage was nearly on top of me. I remember thinking it was aiming for me on purpose. I know it couldn’t have been, but I remember thinking it.”

Griff closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He needed to leave before he took her in his arms and held her. He
needed to walk away before something else happened to her. He could never forget that no one was safe around him.

“I should tell Patience that you’re awake. She’s terribly worried.”

“No. Don’t wake her yet. I imagine she’s exhausted and needs the sleep.”

“You know it’s not proper for us to be alone together.”

“Then why did they let you stay here?”

He smiled. “I think perhaps I frightened everyone away.”

She smiled, then closed her eyes again. “Don’t worry. Although your reputation as a rake is quite justified, I doubt even the worst of Society’s gossips will credit you with taking advantage of someone barely conscious.”

“I suppose you’re right. Does this mean you are no longer angry with me?”

“I’m still furious.” Her voice was heavy and her words were slurred. “But something is different with you, and I don’t understand what it is.”

“You can blame it on the blow to your head, my lady. It causes strange thoughts to enter your mind.”

“I doubt that’s it,” she answered, her voice even more slurred than before. “I dreamt I heard you talk to me.”