Reclaimed

And he didn’t feel like a fight. Not tonight. His body felt worn down. Beat.

Yet his exhaustion did nothing to keep the memories at bay.

***

Nothing warned him. He heard no one approach. One second he lounged happily in Amelia’s arms, her skirts around her hips, and he inside her, and the next he flew through the air and crashed against an oak tree.

It swayed from the force of impact, and pain burst over him as his head collided against the rough bark.

What in the world had happened?

He opened an eye, expecting to see Isaac glaring at him. Instead, his fiancée crouched in front of him, taking in every inch of his features.

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. His head hurt like hell.

“Lady Harding? What happened?” He hesitated. How much had she seen?

“We found you and your harlot naked, my lord,” she replied.

Bloody hell.

“Where’s Isaac? I have to talk to him….”

“What about me? Do you not have to speak to me, as well?”

“Lady Harding, I am immensely sorry. You have to know I never meant for this to happen. We did not plan it—”

“Oh, it had to be an error of judgment, never to happen again?” She smiled slightly.

He did not have time to waste soothing her. He needed to find Amelia and Isaac. He’d tell her as quickly as possible, and find the ones he really cared about.

Surprised to see the anger cross her face before he spoke, he faltered and said, “No, my lady. We love each other, and she will be my wife. Surely, things might be tough for a while, but I am certain we can work out something to help soothe over the legalities of such a match.”

He broke off when she snarled, and his heart stopped in his chest.

Bloody hell.

He stared at her in astonishment when she lifted him by the throat, his feet dangling in the air. He pulled at her hands using all his strength, frantically trying to breathe, but she didn’t budge.

He kicked her in the chest, and she didn’t flinch. He tried again—harder—in the stomach.

She bloody well laughed in his face.

“Wrong answer, Lord Stirling.”

She threw him through the air, and he crashed into the ground, the thud filling his ears hurting him almost as much at the compact had.

This had to be a dream. A hallucination.

Maybe when he hit the tree earlier, he’d lost consciousness and this would all turn out to be a nightmare. Yes, that had to be the case. For none of this could be real.

He sat up cautiously, looking for any sign of Louisa. Instead, he saw something that caused his heart to stop beating, and painfully accelerate in his chest—all at the same time. Next to him lay Isaac, with his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and unseeing eyes.

Crying aloud, he bolted to Isaac’s side. “Isaac, blast it to all hell…Isaac. Answer me. You cannot be dead, oh God no. Please, no.” A frantic sob escaped him, and Elijah hurried to check for a pulse.

Thank God, he felt a slight pulse against his fingers. Weak, but there. He needed to get Dr. Hamilton right away.

But what happened? Why did he lie there with open eyes and a beating heart?