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“He’s alive. Just.” He issued the words on a relieved breath.
Cillian couldn’t bring himself to be angry, not anymore. If Marshall survived this, he’d have to live with a lifetime of torment that far surpassed anything Cillian had tolerated.
“Fetch a doctor,” he ordered. “With haste.”
Someone scurried off and some of the crowd dropped back.
Ivy slipped around Marshall and crouched beside Cillian. “What can we do?”
“I dare not move him. He may have internal injuries.”
“His leg...”
“Broken but there may be worse.”
The man’s eyes fluttered open, and a rattling groan came forth. “Cillian,” he managed to mutter.
“A doctor is on his way.”
“I just loved her so much.”
“And she loved you,” Cillian assured him. “We both know that.”
His eyes rolled backward, and his eyelids snapped shut. Cillian kept a finger to his neck.
“Is he—?” Ivy asked.
He shook his head. “No, he’s still alive.” He looked around. “We need that doctor. Now.”
“Our fastest rider has gone, my lord,” the housekeeper said then began issuing orders for blankets to be brought and servants to disperse. Ivy’s suspicions Mrs. Baxter was coming around to the pair of them was confirmed when she laced her hands and stood behind them. “I am going to wait for the doctor’s arrival but if there is anything else you need at all, my lord, you may ring for me at any hour.”
He’d celebrate their winning around of the housekeeper later.
The doctor arrived and concluded Marshall could be moved but nothing in the man’s demeanor hinted that the outcome would be anything other than grim for the patient.
“We need to move him to my house,” the doctor said. “I am assured there is no internal damage, however, I need my equipment and my assistant to set his leg.”
“I shall accompany you,” Cillian offered the doctor, with a glance at Ivy. “I need not go if you would prefer me to stay.”
“No, you should go.”
Bruises circled her throat, and her cheek was swollen. The need for revenge no longer burned. Marshall had done enough to himself.
He curved a hand around Ivy’s cheek. “It shouldn’t have come to this,” he said, his voice raw.
“You could not have known what he’d do.” She laid a warm hand over the top of his.
“If I had not run away when I was younger, never joined the army...maybe I could have searched for the truth as you did.” He shook his head and looked to the polished floor. “I could have given us all peace sooner.”
“I cannot claim not to have run from many problems in my lifetime.” She moved close, wrapped her arms about his waist, and pressed her cheek to his chest.
He enveloped her and pressed a kiss to her head. The sweet smell of her, the feel of her so small and soft, released the tension rolling in his gut. There was a lot wrong with this situation and who knew if Marshall would even survive or if he deserved to after what he’d done to Ivy, but Cillian could not claim to be any more sane when it came to Ivy. He’d wanted to tear Marshall apart for touching her.
“You are not running now, though,” he said into her hair. “You did not run when you could have.”
“No.” She lifted her head to peer up at him. “And I’m never going to run again.”
“Good.” He dropped a gentle kiss to her lips. “Together and only ever together, we can face anything.”
