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My gaze finds Francis’, and he schools his pain into a small smile.
I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
He got hurt protecting me.
I don’t know what happens, but in that moment, all I can do is move. Running back to the staff wing, I go straight to the kitchen, through to the utility area.
Towels.
“Where are the towels?” I spit at one of the staff that’s coming in from the flurry.
She rushes to the laundry room, and I grab one of the bowls on the side, filling it with cooled kettle water.
When she hands me the towels, I tear back through the house. Water sloshes as loud voices wreak havoc with my frayed senses. I push forward, ignoring the need to drop everything and centre myself.
It’s an impossible task trying to get past all the bodies. Water spills over the sides of the bowl and down my arms, dripping from my elbows as I push past the crowd.
“Out!” Emily’s voice echoes around the room.
Everything and everyone freezes.
When no one moves, she starts physically shooing them out. “Away with you! Off you go! Shoo!”
“The medical centre is shut,” Cassie says, slipping her phone back into her coat pocket. “The ambulances can’t get through the snow.”
“We barely made it back in the Defender,” Casper says from where he’s kneeling on the floor with Penny. “Good news is it’s in and out; bad news, the rib’s broken. The bandage is what’s causing the problem. He needs stitches.”
“I’m fine.” Francis coughs, the strain causing him to gasp for breath.
“Of course you are,” Casper mutters as he keeps his finger plugging the bullet hole.
“I checked for the bullet. It’s definitely out,” Lucian says, taking a step back.
“Can we move him?” Freddie asks, crouching by Francis’ shoulders. “If we get him to one of the bedrooms, she can stitch him up.”
“Excuse me?” Georgina backs away. Her face is flushed and cold bitten, like his and Leo’s.
“You’re good at sewing. I’ve seen you fix your shoes.”
“No!”
“It’s simple, George,” Casper says lightly, obviously playing to her soft side. “I’ve seen the way you mend the silk.”
“Silk isn’t skin.”
“Please.” Penny stands, her hands bloodstained. She takes the bowl and towels from me, putting them down on one of the low side tables before pushing both Cassie and me out of the room. “There’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. Find one of the staff and ask for a sewing kit.”
“Okay,” I tell her, already stepping back.
“The staff were shutting the outbuildings and clearing the paths when we drove up. It’s so bad out there.” Cassie stares down at Francis, panicked.
“My sewing box is in the drawing room.” Emily nods at me. Her voice is soft and level, and in a rare show of her affection, she smiles tenderly with a light stroke to my arm. In a blink though, she steels and is back to being the matriarch everyone panders to.
Her orders for what
will happen are clear and explicit as I follow her instructions.
The only thing keeping me from falling apart is the twisted responsibility I feel for Francis’ state. I keep pushing through the urge to grab Christopher and run. Leave this place. I want to take my husband and go home. Shut the world out and live in our own bubble, even if it’s just for a little while.
