Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess (14 page)

Her head fell back to the floor.

“Just leave.”

Killian bent down, balancing on his heels. “If you can walk back to the bed on your own, Reanna, I will leave. I promise.”

Silent minutes passed, and Killian refused to move.

With a vicious growl, Reanna pushed her upper body up and went to her knees. Heaving, she shifted her right boot under her body, and shot up.

She made it two steps before falling to her knees.

So she began to crawl.

Bile hitting his throat, Killian picked her up, and her arms flew, slamming fists at him.

“Dammit, Reanna, I am not going to watch you crawl.”

He set her on the bed, and she scratched away from him, fighting to the furthest corner, and then curled up in a ball facing the wall.

“Leave. Please. Just leave.”

Killian watched her shaking back. Trying to not let her shake become his.

He walked backward to the door, eyes not leaving Reanna, and opened it. Stepping into the hallway, he was greeted by both Thomas and Miss Collier. Both looked like they would be happy to murder him on the spot.

Killian tried to ignore their glares. “You. Thomas, is it? Would you please go out to my driver and tell him to fetch my doctor.”

Thomas’s look went from anger, to moderate suspicion. “You gonna help Lady Ana?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then.” He spun and ran down the stairs.

Killian looked at Miss Collier. He didn’t figure she would be as easy.

“I am going back in, and I would prefer not to be interrupted.”

“What you prefer doesn’t sound like it agrees with what Lady Ana wants. Your doc can come and tend to her, but you need to leave her alone, sir.”

Killian struggled for control. Why did everyone think they could boss him around when it came to his own wife?

“She cannot walk, Miss Collier. She needs help. Real help, and this is not the place for it.”

“Says who?”

“Says her husband. Frankly, Miss Collier, I am removing her from this place one way or another. But I am thinking it would be best if a scene was not made. You said yourself children were sleeping.”

Miss Collier looked over her shoulder, then down the hall at the other doors. She shook her head, exasperated. “Bollocks. Fine. But the likes of you better be kind to her. Not that you have it in you.”

She turned and stalked down the hall before he could reply. And better for both of them that he didn’t.

He opened the door, stepping back into the room and closing the door. Reanna hadn’t moved from her balled position, if anything, she looked smaller than before, shrinking into herself.

Killian went over to her and stopped at the bed. She knew he was there, he could see through the light chemise her body tense at his approach.

Killian reached down to the top of her calf, slipping his finger under the leather at the top of the boot.

She jerked away, knocking her knee into the wall. “God, don’t touch them. Don’t touch me. Go, Killian, just go.”

Pulling his hand back to his side, Killian sighed and sat down at the foot of the bed. He gave her as much space from his body as possible, but he wanted it evident that he wasn’t about to leave. Not now.

“Reanna, I have a doctor coming to help you. But your feet. Your boots.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell, Reanna, you walked all the goddamn way to London in them.”

A coarse laugh escaped from the curl of her body. “Of course, that is what you would concentrate on. My failures never cease with you.”

“Reanna—”

She craned her neck up, fire in her eyes. “Yes, I walked all the way to London. What the bloody hell did you expect me to do? Beg you again and again? I have already been on my knees before you too many times, Killian. And it did me no good. It was quite clear you were done with me. I may have failed you, but I sure as hell was not going to fail the children.”

Killian’s eyes didn’t leave hers, even the louder she got. He would take it. Gladly. Anything but the shell of her quivering from his touch.

“We cannot do this here. There is not enough light, nor everything the doctor might need. I am taking you back to my townhouse,” Killian said, voice calm.

“No.” She whipped herself upright. “I will see the doctor, but here. Only here.”

“Reanna, this is not going to be comfortable. Do you want the children to hear this? From what I can tell, this is going to be painful. Extremely painful.”

“It already is. I can keep my mouth closed.” Her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Only here.”

“And if you cannot? If we are in the thick of getting these boots off, and god knows what is under there—and you cannot hold it in? What then? You screaming. What do you think that is going to do to the children?”

She shook her head, eyes going to the ceiling. “Unfair.”

“Unfair or not, we both know doing this at my place is the best option.”

Eyes trained on the wooden beam in the ceiling, she heaved a sigh. “Fine.”

“Good.” Killian stood and looked around the room. Finding her robe, he grabbed it and started to drape it across her shoulders, but she twisted and snatched it from his hands, wrapping herself.

He moved in front of the bed. “Come. I am carrying you down.”

“What? No. The children. They cannot see me being carried out of here.”

“Reanna, that is silly. You cannot walk. How else do you propose making it down the stairs? Besides, the children are asleep.”

“Are they? Not with this noise.” She pointed to the door. “Go out there and look, Killian.”

Biting back a blaspheme, Killian stepped from the room into the hall.

A gaggle of eyes peered up at him. At least eight children jockeyed for position on the nearby stairs.

Killian spun back into the room, closing the door.

“They are out there, are they not?”

“Yes.”

Reanna’s voice turned soft. “I need to walk down, Killian. I refuse to scare them. I refuse it.”

“You cannot. You could not even walk to the bed.”

She swung her legs off the bed and tied her robe closed. “I can.”

With a deep breath, Reanna pushed herself to standing, gasping against the pain. She teetered for a moment, and just as Killian was going to grab her arm, she solidified and held upright.

Killian stepped in front of her. “Reanna, you do not have to do this.”

“Move out of my damn way, Killian. If you are making me leave, then I am doing it by my own accord. I will not scare the children.” Her glare was lethal. “I will not.”

Killian stepped aside.

Reanna struggled to the door, boots shuffling on the wood planks. She stopped, grabbing the door-knob, and her head fell as she took several quick breaths. When she raised her chin, a bright smile had appeared on her face.

She opened the door and walked into the hallway, her steps even and light.

“What are all of you doing up?” She clapped her hands. “You know better than to agitate Miss Collier at this time of night. Bed.” She clapped her hands again. “Back to bed for all you.”

The children scrambled at her words, giggling at Reanna’s light scolding. Apparently, she didn’t discipline them often.

She followed them down the stairs, hand gripping the railing, knuckles white. A step behind her, Killian could see her fighting for every step. Fighting the almost imperceptible hiccup her foot would do before touching a stair. Fighting the racking pain every time her toes took on her weight.

But her smile was effortless.

She took pain better than any man he knew.

It was the longest three flights of stairs Killian had ever walked.

Miss Collier waited at the main landing.

“Will you be all right here tonight, Miss Collier?” Reanna didn’t slow her smooth gait. “Miss Mildred should be here early in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine, my lady. Don’t you worry on us none.” Miss Collier opened the front door, eyes glaring at Killian as they walked past.

“Excellent. Thank you so much, Miss Collier,” Reanna said over her shoulder. “I shall be back tomorrow.”

Miss Collier’s reply was a grunt, and then she closed the door behind them.

Killian’s hand instantly went to Reanna’s elbow for support, but she jerked away. The jerk caused her to fall against the railing, and her feet slipped. She stumbled down several steps before she caught the railing. By then, Killian had grabbed her shoulders to hold her upright.

She didn’t cry out. Just heaved a breath and grabbed the railing with two hands, pulling herself to standing. She managed to lean away from Killian’s hands in the process.

Reanna stepped down the last few stairs, walking to Killian’s coach. Just as his driver let down the step, Killian saw his doctor coming down the street in a phaeton. His driver gave Reanna his hand to step up into the coach, and that, she took willingly.

“I need to talk to the doctor and will be back in a moment,” Killian said, leaning into the carriage.

Reanna sat ramrod straight in the coach, hands in her lap, eyes closed. She didn’t acknowledge his words.

Killian ran down the street, and after a quick conversation with his doctor, he was back to the carriage.

It was empty.

He looked at his driver, who looked inside the carriage.

Surprise at the open opposite door was on his face. “I did not hear her get out, my lord, I was watching you. She didn’t go back inside.”

“Bloody hell.” Killian ran around the coach. “Reanna. Hell. Reanna.” He couldn’t exactly yell for her. Not with the entire orphanage up and probably watching out the front windows.

Moonlight was his friend in searching the dark street, for a few houses down, it gave her away, huddled deep into the shadows next to a set of stairs. She hadn’t gotten far.

“Dammit, Reanna.” He stepped into the darkness.

He stopped in front of her, then took a moment to collect himself.

She sat, arms tight around her drawn legs, head hiding in her knees.

Killian bent, one knee in the dirt. “God, Reanna, do you hate me that much?”

There was no answer. He didn’t expect one.

He wrapped his arms around her and was surprised when there was no resistance. Picking her up, Killian was shocked at how light she was. She had to have lost a quarter of her weight since their wedding night.

Halfway back to the carriage, Reanna looked up at him, and Killian’s heart stopped at the utter defeat he saw in her face.

“I…I cannot get them off.” Her voice was tiny. “I have tried over and over. It just hurts so much. I think with the blood and the stickiness…”

Killian swallowed hard. “We will. We will get them off, and fix you. I swear.”

Killian had his driver’s brandy in hand before the coach moved, and he forced Reanna to take five healthy swallows before they had made it two blocks. By the time they reached his townhouse, Reanna was swaying, her eyes glassy.

That was good.

She didn’t fight his touch when he carried her from the carriage into the house. He even felt her lean into him in a near snuggle. The wonder of pain and brandy.

Up the stairs in his townhouse, Reanna in his arms, Killian started to turn into the chambers next to his, but a pang of guilt stopped him. His mistress’s things were still inside. Hell, Vivienne had decorated the rooms to her own whims. Rooms that rightfully belonged to his wife.

One more thing that needed correction.

He moved onward to his own chambers and laid Reanna on his bed. With the slightest moan, she went to her side, curling up, her shift moving upward and exposing her legs.

Killian lit several lamps for solid light, then stood by the bed, looking down at her. The damn boots. Brown leather beat to hell, flat soles with low curved heels, and both were lined at the top with dainty tassels, three on one boot, only one left on the other. Perfectly suitable for riding in fashion. Perfectly unsuitable for walking.

His forefinger set gently onto her calf above the boot, and he flicked a chunk of dried blood off the skin. Running his hand through his hair, he sat down on the bed by her waist and looked up at her closed eyes.

“Reanna.”

Her eyes flew open, lazily tracking across the room as she rolled onto her back. When her eyes met his face, her lips instantly widened into a smile. “Oh. You. It is you.”

Killian froze.

She pulled her hand up from the bed, her fingers touching his jaw. “Your face is…is still beautiful. Still so handsome. Warm. Rough.”

She let her fingers trail up, palm on his cheek, but as quickly as the smile had appeared, it flashed away, sadness taking root. “You. You killed my heart.”

She snatched her hand away and rolled back to her side.

Killian closed his eyes, shaking his head against the pain in her eyes. Against the pain he had put there, pain that tore at his chest.

He had done that. Killed her heart.

Her left foot twitched, moving the bed, and Killian ripped his eyes open. One problem at a time.

“Reanna, I am going to untie the boots.”

She didn’t answer him, but she did give a slight nod without looking at him. That would have to do.

As gently as he could, Killian untied the laces that ran up the front middle of her left boot, then loosened and pulled the laces free from the leather. He repeated the action on the right leg. Bits of dried blood edging the top of the boots flaked off.

“God, Reanna, how the hell did you get to London?” Killian muttered under his breath.

“I walked.”

He looked up at her face. Eyes still closed, her head was half buried into the coverlet. “That was not the best plan.”

“I did not have a choice, Killian. You took that away from me. Just so easy for you. Just like that. You took it away.” Her voice lilted up and down, words thick.

Killian bit his tongue. He wanted to blame her. Wanted to rail at her for being so stupid as to walk all the way to London. She should have stayed close to Holloton. She shouldn’t have left the area.

He didn’t want this whole damn thing to be his fault.

But it was.

He cleared his throat. “I am going to try to pull the left boot off.”

She went silent again. Her bottom lip slipped under her teeth as she nodded, and her fingers dug into the coverlet, gripping.

Killian took a deep breath, grabbing the short rounded heel and the toe of the left foot, and began to pull.

A scream was his instant reward. Agonized. Terrified. Reanna jerked her foot away and scrambled back on the bed, panicked by the pain. It cut through her drunken haze, and her eyes found focus on Killian.

“Goddamn you. What the hell are you doing?” Her back flat against the headboard, she pulled her feet up under her chemise.

“Reanna, I’m trying to help you,” Killian said more softly than he imagined he could.

“Help? But the pain…they can stay on…” She closed her eyes, head bobbing. “Have you not done enough to me?”

Killian moved closer to her, but didn’t dare touch her. “Reanna, we have to get your boots off. You are going to maim yourself if you do not let me help. We have to get them off now.”

“But why? Why now? Maybe they will get better.”

“You know they will not, Reanna. How long has it been since they have been off? Weeks? They need to come off.”

“Why would I ever believe what you have to say?”

Killian sighed. Valid question, he had to admit. “Because I am your husband.”

She gave a half laugh, brimmed with bitterness. “Yes, and I am your wife. And that has not turned out quite so well for me.”

A knock on the door interrupted Killian before he could reply, not that he had anything to say. He stood up from the bed, grateful for the interruption. “Come in.”

Fifteen minutes later, Killian’s doctor had examined Reanna’s boot-clad feet, and after conferring with Killian, both men eyed Reanna warily from across the room.

Killian walked over to her, then sat again on the bed. “Reanna, Doctor Leiars thinks the best way to remove them is to soak your legs to loosen the scabbed blood from the leather. And then we hope we can cut the leather off in sections. He thinks this should cause the least amount of pain, but the scissors may end up slicing already bloodied areas. It might get painful.”

Arms hugging herself, Reanna nodded acceptance.

“I can give you more brandy, but I think you have already had too much. The doctor has laudanum—”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He turned toward Leiars. “The tub is full. Shall we get started?”

It started off simple enough. Soaking the feet was fine. Reanna sat on the teak deck surrounding the copper tub, legs dangling in the warm water as the laudanum took effect.

But the second the doctor pulled her left leg from the water and started cutting the leather away, the agony started.

The soaking had not done enough to loosen the leather molded to her skin, and chunks of scabs ripped from her body with every swatch of leather.

Reanna tried to bear it, head curled into her chest, silent sobs racking her body, until halfway down her calf, the scissors sliced deep into her skin.

Pain overwhelming, she tried to escape, her silent scream cut off as she slipped down into the tub. Head almost going under, Killian grabbed her before she swallowed any water. He pulled her up, and she immediately twisted away, head over the edge of the copper tub, and threw up, her body revolting against the pain and drug and alcohol.

Spasms tore through her body, and all Killian could do was hold one hand on her shoulder, and the other flat on her back so she didn’t slip deeper into the water.

When the spasms subsided, Killian got onto the teak ledge, and lifted Reanna out of the tub. He settled her in-between his legs, arms wrapped around her, her wet body on his chest.

The doctor pulled her left leg back out of the water, and restarted his removal of the boot. She didn’t fight the doctor. Didn’t kick at him, even though Killian could feel the agony racking her body. Feel her gasps for breath.

It was only after the first boot was fully removed, that Killian recognized the severity of what had happened.

Both men stared at Reanna’s left foot in horror. Free from the binds of the leather boot, her foot pulsated in a mutated mass of blood and puss. Toes were barely recognizable.

And they still had the other boot to get off.

Killian was the first to pull out of the shock at the grotesque sight. The sharp pain momentarily ceased, Reanna silently cried in his lap. He picked her up and moved to the other side of the tub so the doctor could get her right leg up on the ledge.

He nodded at Doctor Leiars to get on with the other foot.

Killian’s hand went on her wet forehead, smoothing back the hair. “You did well, Reanna. There is just one more foot to go.”

The scissors slipped at that moment, and new waves of agony washed over Reanna’s face, her body arching.

“Oh god, why?” Her eyes found focus on Killian above her. “Why? What did I ever do to you, Killian? What did I ever do to you?”

Her head went down as she tried to curl into a ball, her body only burrowing deeper into Killian’s hold, her voice pleading. “What did I ever do to you? What did I ever do to you?” Sobs convulsed her body. “Why? What did I do?”

The sobs overtook the words.

Halfway through the second foot, she passed out.

Holding full force the pain he had created, Killian had never been more grateful for anything in his life.

~~~

Killian’s forehead went hard into the palm of his hand. Elbow propped on the walnut desk in his study, he let his arm take the weight of his head as he stared at the piece of vellum in front of him. It was the last from the tall stack of papers he had pushed to the edge of the desk.

The first letters from Reanna were tear stained, ink smudged to the point half the words could not be read. The dotted intensity of the splotches on the vellum got less and less the deeper into the stack he got.

Until they disappeared altogether.

It took him hours to go through the letters.

He had never read them. Never bothered to even look at them.

And now he was staring at it.

…
I can no longer afford the tears that come daily, nor the way my heart aches every morning and every evening…

He looked up, bleary eyed, and reached for the last of the brandy he had too much of since getting Reanna settled in his bed.

Taking the last swallow, he set the thick cut glass down and grabbed the last sheet. He gently laid it on top of the neat stack.

The reality of what he had done over the past year was beginning to set in, the words that were spoken, the actions that were taken. Killian was quickly beginning to hate himself for it. He had tried to ignore it. Then deny it. But it was time to accept the ruin that he had caused. Bitter though it was.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty glass. His current stupor did nothing to lessen the guilt. Lessen the doom he had created.

Killian eyed the elaborately cut design on the thick glass before him. The opulent motif fit perfectly into the world he had needed to create.

But he didn’t care for it. He never had.

Why had he kept something he hated for so long in his life?

He grabbed the glass, flipping it, and smashed it down, shattering it, shards cutting into his palm.