She was his, and he was going to keep her as close to him as possible. Etiquette could go to hell. He didn’t care if she was ruined by simply being alone with him. She was his, and now he had her, only death could snatch her away from him, and that was something he wasn’t about to let happen without a fight.
He carefully placed her in the middle of his bed, cursing at how small and fragile she looked against the brocade cover. Where the hell had she been? Having endured the living hell of the battlefields, he had become far too familiar with human misery, and the terrible destruction, man could inflict upon man. However, nothing could have prepared him for the severity of her plight. From the appearance of her, it was evident she had quite clearly nearly starved to death, and was wearing inadequate clothing to keep her alive throughout summer, let alone the long, harsh winter months to come.
Fighting down the burning tide of anger, Dominic shook off his jacket and boots, thankful that Manvers had already lit the fire to ward off the evening chill. Within minutes, Dominic had it roaring heartily in the grate, suffusing the room in welcome warmth.
He was in the process of removing Isobel’s sodden outer clothing when Mrs Holcombe and two maids appeared in the doorway.
“My stars,” Mrs Holcombe muttered, gazing at the half starved, slightly wild creature the master had just brought home. Barking quick instructions to the maids beside her, Mrs Holcombe moved toward the bed and began to help remove sodden clothing.
“Cook is bringing some broth in a few minutes my Lord,” Mrs Holcombe informed him, somewhat aghast. “If you want to leave her with us now, we’ll see to her. We can move her to the room-.”
“No!” Dominic winced inwardly at the almost shout, but offered no apology as the women immediately froze and stared at him. “She is to stay here with me. Just get her out of these wet clothes and warm her up. The doctor is on his way, but we cannot wait for him to arrive. She must be warmed up and quickly.”
He watched in satisfaction as the import of his words sank in, and the women immediately moved to assist him.
“Please Sir, leave her with us. I can promise you she will be safe. You must get yourself warm and dry as well,” Mrs Holcombe replied fervently, wishing he would leave them to deal with their unusual charge, such was the unconventionality of their situation. “You’ll be no good to her if you catch a chill yourself.”
It became apparent after several attempts to untie the laces of her shirt that he was more of a hindrance than a help.
“Sir!”
The shock of finding Isobel was beginning to wane and Dominic eventually became aware of the disapproving censure of the women in the room when he was about to release t
he tight bindings covering her breasts. Realising he needed to preserve Isobel’s dignity, Dominic nodded in weary defeat and with one last searching look at her, reluctantly turned toward the door.
Two hours later, his plate of food barely touched on the desk behind him, Dominic stood before the hearth, staring down at the glowing flames jostling heartily in the grate with an absent frown on his face. The doctor had been and gone, and the news was not good.
One of the staff was quickly dispatched to summon Peter’s presence at Havistock as a matter of urgency. Not only did he need to know about his sister’s survival, but he also needed to be informed of her ill health, and the imminent danger to her life.
God forbid the doctor was indeed accurate, and her life was hanging in the balance. Dominic stared thoughtfully into the fire for several moments and tried to marshal his whirling thoughts. Surely, he couldn’t lose her now.
A sense of unfamiliar helplessness washed over him. The memory of the rasping hollowness of her cough when she had ridden in his arms was strong. Putrid lungs could kill even a person of relatively good health, for someone as malnourished as Isobel...
Quickly closing off the macabre thought, Dominic pushed away from the hearth and strode towards the door. Suddenly, he had the pressing need to be with her and not waste even one single, precious moment.
Isobel felt weight pulling her down. Wrapped in something soft and heavy, she was unbearably hot.
Trying desperately to pull herself free, she slowly became aware of a strange noise, over and over. Her head throbbed in rhythm with the stabbing pain behind her eyes. Everything within her ached fiercely.
Her thoughts spun around and around as she fought desperately to pull herself free from the kaleidoscope of confusing colour. Shades and shapes merged, and Dominic’s beloved features appeared before her. Out of the haze, his beautiful green eyes glinted brightly as they shone lovingly at her. She could hear the soft murmur of his voice, but simply couldn’t find the strength to answer him. Her mouth wouldn’t work.
She didn’t know if she was dreaming again, but this dream felt different. There were no swirling mists through which he appeared. The kaleidoscope of colours around him made her dizzy and confused. She felt muddled, as though something was holding her down, and she just couldn’t shake it off.
“Come on now, you must drink some.”
Isobel’s drowsy gaze locked on to his beseeching look as she felt something being held against her lips. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and swallowed the warm concoction, coughing violently as it settled harshly on her cold and empty stomach. It tasted slightly salty, and warm, but other than that Isobel had no idea what he had just given her. She tried desperately to move her head away, but found herself held more firmly against the solid wall of his chest, his face mere inches from her own. Once again, something was placed against her lips.
“Please, you must drink this now,” his rich, masculine voice held a stern tone of authority that even Isobel couldn’t ignore.
She frowned, wondering what she had done to incur his wrath. Despite trying to plead with him with her eyes, she couldn’t find the strength to keep her gaze locked on his and eventually gave up, reluctantly allowing him to feed her the strange concoction until exhaustion overtook her, and she once again slipped into the darkness.
“That’s more than we have been able to get down her since yesterday Sir,” Mrs Holcombe declared, settling the blankets and sheets around the prone woman lying before them.
“It’s not enough though,” Dominic eyed Isobel’s pale face against the white cotton pillow. “She needs more if she is going to survive.”
Frustration seethed within him at the sheer helplessness of the situation. Although she was drinking the broth Cook had made her, there had been no improvement in her condition since the day she had arrived, and that had been nearly three days ago.
“I’ll sit with her for a while,” Dominic informed Mrs Holcombe, sinking into the chair beside the bed. Ignoring the women as they collected various items from around the room before eventually leaving, he picked up Isobel’s limp hand. He wondered what she had endured during her time away. Her long, tapered fingers were calloused and marked. Slowly, he trailed the sharp protrusion of the bones, following the blue veins upwards toward her wrist. No lady should have been put into the position she had. Nobody, male or female, should ever feel so desperate in their situation that life on the streets was the only way out.