AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Antonia’s frantic pleas made Ranelaw burn. But he was so damned weak, he could only lie still as a stone while she cried over him as though she loved him.
She loved him.
He’d wandered in from the blackness as he would from a riotous night on the town. Not sure if he’d stay at home or return to his carousing. He’d felt the clasp of Antonia’s hand. He’d heard the choked anguish in her voice as she begged him to live.
Had she knocked him out with the poker again? Beautiful, fierce dragon.
Then he’d tumbled back into night. The erratic blackness that pursued him wasn’t quiet. It was peopled with his ghosts. His chaotic family. Eloise glaring at him in accusation. Cassie, who had proven so unexpectedly valiant.
Most of all Antonia. Passionate, vital Antonia.
The woman he loved. The woman who loathed him.
It made no sense that she pleaded with him not to leave her. Two days ago, she hadn’t cared whether he took another breath.
She loved him . . .
During his unruly career, many women had proclaimed their love. This was the first time the truth of the words speared his heart. This was the first time he wanted to return the vow with the same sincere simplicity.
She was so generous, his darling. More generous than he deserved. More wonderful and lovely and good than any man deserved. Although he’d make bloody sure he lived to see she squandered that bounty on him.
He was just such a conscienceless blackguard.
As awareness gradually returned, a chaos of sensations assailed him. Her sticky tears. The ragged sobs. The tingling memory of her lips on his skin.
His side hurt like hell. Like someone poked him with a red-hot iron. Slowly, imperceptibly, he struggled to lift his arm. The movement tugged on his wound and a low, agonized groan escaped.
She jerked up. Immediately he missed the soft press of her body. “Nicholas?”
He felt her shift. The slightest jarring of the mattress shot pain screaming through him. He didn’t care as long as she stayed.
Her voice was choked. “I’ll fetch the doctors.”
Damn it, he didn’t want those quacks. He wanted Antonia. Most of all he wanted Antonia to say she loved him. So he could be sure pain-addled fantasy alone hadn’t conjured the declaration.
Thank God, she registered his inarticulate protest. She stayed where she was.
Slowly, as though he hoisted a full-grown oak tree with one hand, he forced his eyelids upward. In the gloom, her face swam into sight. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes were swollen with weeping. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“Beauti . . .” he forced from stiff lips.
She misunderstood and rose, disappearing from view. He was too weak to turn his head and watch her. Damn it, he yearned to seize her in his arms, yet he couldn’t summon strength to move his little finger. Another growl escaped, this time of frustration.
He listened to the clink of glass across the room then, thank God, she came back. Very gently, she slid a hand under his head and trickled water across his lips. He bit back a stab of agony at the movement. Liquid dribbled over his chin and his gut knotted in humiliation. This wasn’t how he wanted her to see him.
“Nicholas, please don’t die,” she said brokenly, wipi
ng his lips with the sheet.
“How . . .”
Her eyes glowed with a light that looked like love, and the pain in his side receded a mite. She worked magic. “I fought through a wall of monsters to get here, my darling.”
My darling?
“Not . . .” He stopped and sucked in a breath, then was sorry when his wound protested the movement of his ribs. “Die . . .”
“If you do, I’ll hunt you down in Hades,” she said with a determination that reminded him how she’d threatened to shoot him.
