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He would have never recovered from that.
“Are you all right?” he asked, catching and holding her gaze. “Did he hurt you, Heather?”
She held up her hands, which were scraped and bloody from when she’d fallen, then touched her bloody throat. “A little banged up, but I’ll be fine.”
“Thank God.” He sagged against the doorframe. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but this wasn’t the time.
I should have kept her with me. I should have protected her.
Allison glared at him. “Why did he come here?” she demanded. “Why did he go after Heather?”
“He thought I was your whore,” Heather said, sounding numb. “He said he wanted me to give him a taste of what I’d given you.”
Drake flinched, realizing that when he’d told his brother about his new mistress, he’d intrigued him. “Heather... I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I wanted to keep you safe, not pull you further into harm’s way.”
“I know,” she said, dropping her gaze to her battered hands. “It’s all right, Drake. That young constable protected me, and I know you had him watching over me. You said you’d keep me safe, and you did.”
Quinn cleared his throat, and Drake’s guilt grew. Pond had been watching Danbury, not Heather. He’d thought Heather was safe once Lindon was behind bars. Why hadn’t he made certain of it before abandoning her to fend for herself? He’d made so many promises to her, but had he kept any of them?
He had to admit to all the ways he’d failed her, all the ways he’d hurt her, but now was not the time or the place. “I have to make certain that Danbury gets safely to Broadmoor, but after I’m done... Can I come back, Heather? Can we talk?”
She nodded briefly, still not looking at him. Allison glared at him, and he knew she’d like to forbid it, but Quinn shook his head at her, and she managed to bite her tongue.
“I’ll see you later tonight then,” he said, praying he’d somehow find the words to make all this right.
Chapter Twenty-two
For the next few hours, Heather allowed her sister to fuss over her to her heart’s content. Even though Heather knew that the wounds she’d sustained during her run-in with The Viper were minor, she didn’t protest when Allison sent for a doctor to check her over. She reclined on the sofa in the sitting room like an invalid while the kind old man bandaged her hands and throat and left her a sleeping tonic.
After the doctor left, she let Allison coax her upstairs to her bedroom, where she was soon ensconced in a comfortable chair in front of the fire, a cup of tea and a biscuit on a nearby table, and her sister pacing relentlessly across the room.
Heather supposed she was still in shock, somewhat numbed to what had almost happened to her, though she was grateful for the sleeping tonic because she was certain that once she went to bed, the afternoon’s events would come crashing back over her. How could she live with the fact that not only had she nearly died today but that it had almost come at the hands of The Viper?
Shivering, she pulled the heavy quilt Allison had wrapped around her shoulders even tighter.
“Are you cold?” Allison asked, glancing at the roaring fire as though it was somehow lacking. “I can go get you another blanket.”
