He shook his head. “Leave me here.” Lord, he wanted to lie down. He didn’t have the strength, and she’d die if she stayed exposed to the elements for much longer. “Take the horse—”
“If you think I’m leaving you here, you’ve lost your bloody mind. Now get up, Philip, or I’ll lay down beside you.”
More shouts reached through the buzzing in his ears, and Lily turned away to call a reply. “We’re here! I found him, but I need help!”
He was vaguely aware of more figures coming towards him, being dragged from the snow by a series of strong arms, his weightdistributed between two people as they stumbled forward. Now he could see the lights of the house through the darkness of the storm, a refuge. A family. A future.
“Fuck, he’s heavy,” Callum grumbled from one side.
“Not much further now,” Archie said from the other.
“Where’s Lily?” Philip croaked, doing his best to lift his legs in an approximation of walking.
A hand wrapped around his where it was draped over Callum’s shoulder. “I’m here, my love. I’m not leaving.”
Her words warmed him more than whatever awaited him in the house, the structure quickly coming into sharper focus as they approached. “Neither am I,” he said. “Never.”
Lily wanted to scream.
The sensation had been clawing at her chest since the moment she’d realized Philip was missing and intensified when she’d seen the horse standing alone, only a short distance off the drive leading to the house. She doubted she would ever forget the terror of seeing his body prone in the snow, unmoving and lifeless.
Would fate truly be so cruel as to take her husband away now, when they’d finally found their way back to each other?
Rose and Fern had helped her change out of her wet clothing the moment they’d entered the house, and when she returned downstairs, Philip was also changed, his white shirt still open tomid-chest. Red blotches marred his cheeks, but his eyes had lost their glassy appearance.
Her brothers-in-law had deposited him on the sofa in the front parlor, and Violet and Marigold rushed to put more wood on the already blazing fire. A footman appeared with a heap of blankets, while another brought a steaming pot of tea. The rest of the family stood awkwardly in a semicircle, wringing their hands or otherwise looking unsettled.
Cricket slept belly-up in front of the fire, nonplussed by his role in this debacle.
Lily ignored all of them, pacing as her husband was attended to. When the knot in her throat grew nearly to bursting, she marched directly up to him, crossed her arms and glared. “What in the devil were you thinking?” she barked.
He winced—as did her entire family, it seemed. “I wasn’t thinking.” His voice was rough, as though he’d been screaming himself.
“You’re right about that.”
“Lily,” Marigold murmured, “should we go?”
“No.” She whirled on her relations. “You all need to hear this.” When she turned back to face her husband, his gaze was clear, steady. “You didn’t touch the laudanum, did you?”
His lips flattened. “I did touch it, but not how you thought. I saw the bottle in the pantry the other night, and I… I didn’t want to see it. So, I put it out of sight in the soup tureen. We can go look; I’ll find it.”
“There’s no need.” She sat beside him, took his hand in hers and placed their joined palms on her lap. “I found it earlier. I knew I would.”
The tightness in his expression softened, his cracked lips parting. “Did you think I left you again?”
She shook her head. “I knew you would come back.”
“Of course I came back.” He cupped her cheek, his broad thumb stroking her cheekbone, and she leaned into his touch. “I told you I’m here forever.”
Marigold gathered her sons to her side and grinned. “This is wonderful. I’m so happy for you, Lills.”
Archie crossed his arms over his solid chest. “So we trust him now?”
“Yes,” Fern answered, shifting her baby in her arms. “I think we do.”
Lily threw her sisters an incredulous look. “You didn’t trust him before?”
“He hurt you,” Rose said with a sharp edge to her words. “We’d toss him back into the snow if you asked.”
