On a Wild Night (Cynster 8)

"Did you find a decent bed?"

"Yes, but it's in the room Colly said had been yours."

Martin set the canister aside and dropped the lid back on the kettle. "That doesn't matter-it's a good choice. It's smaller than some of the other rooms. Easier to heat."

Amanda shivered. He glanced at her. It was no longer that cold in the kitchen. "Why don't you find some cups? We can all do with something hot."

She nodded, and went to the cupboards.

Colly returned with a pile of blankets. "Here you go." He handed one to Onslow, nodding in the chair he'd pulled closer to the fire.

Amanda set down the mugs she'd found and hurried to take a blanket and spread it over Reggie. Martin watched, then glanced at Colly. "Why don't you make up a bed in the room next to yours for Onslow? He can have some tea, then he should sleep."

"Aye. I'll do that." Colly left by a narrow stair that led to the rooms directly above the kitchen.

Martin poured the brewed tea into four mugs. "Here." He handed one to Onslow, who cradled it in his hands. "How's the arm?"

"Throbbing, but I'm thinking that's a good sign." Onslow sipped. "I've been hit before, years ago. I'll live."

Martin offered one of the mugs to Amanda. Eyes on Reggie, she shook her head. "No-it's for him."

"I seriously doubt he'll wake tonight-he's lost too much blood."

Her expression turned stricken; he drew her to him, hugged her within one arm. "He'll most likely awaken all right in the end, just not yet. Now-you need this." He curled her fingers about the mug; she shivered and took it, wrapped both hands about it and sipped, but her eyes never left Reggie.

Colly returned; Martin handed him the fourth mug, and they all sipped, standing before the hearth.

"The horses all right?" Colly asked.

"As well as can be." Martin looked down at his mug, swirled the tea. "Where are the other horses-my father's hunters, the carriage horses? What happened to them?"

"Sold. Years ago."

Martin frowned. His father had died only a year ago, yet the stables had been deserted for much longer.

Colly set down his empty mug and took Onslow's. "Come on, let's get you settled, then."

The pair headed up the narrow stair. Martin tugged the chair Onslow had vacated nearer the ebbing blaze, and drew Amanda to it. She sank down, but her worried gaze remained on the silent figure on the table.

When Colly returned, Martin nodded to Reggie. "It should be warm enough upstairs-let's move him."

Not an easy task. Reggie was slight, but he was no lightweight, and Martin didn't want to ask Colly to help; the old man was too frail. Balancing Reggie, Martin had to stop in the front hall, then again at the top of the stairs to catch his breath, but they reached his old room without catastrophe. Amanda rushed in and drew down the covers, pulling out the warming pan Colly had set in place.

Martin laid Reggie down; Amanda covered him, straightening his arms, brushing back his hair. Martin turned to Colly. "We'll need some bricks."

"I set some warming downstairs. I'll bring 'em up."

Crouching before the hearth, Martin built up the fire, noting the coal shuttle and woodbox were both full. The chill had left the room. Standing, he stared down at the fire, trying not to look around, see and remember.

He didn't begrudge Reggie the room; he doubted he could ever sleep here again. Besides, he was no longer the heir, but the earl-his room lay at the end of the corridor.

Colly returned with the heated bricks wrapped in blankets; they slid them between the covers, creating a cocoon of warmth around Reggie's inanimate form. Glancing at Amanda, tight-lipped, wide-eyed, nearly as pale as Reggie, Martin wished Reggie would stir, show some sign of life. But Reggie was still unconscious; the longer he remained so, the less good his chances. Martin saw no reason to voice that fact.

He dismissed Colly with a nod. "Get some sleep. We'll see where we are come morning."

Colly bowed and left. Martin glanced at Amanda. She'd sunk down on the bed beside Reggie, staring at his white face. It was long past midnight; they both needed rest, but he knew better than to suggest she leave her vigil.

"I'll hunt up some quilts and pillows." He picked up the smaller candelabra. Amanda didn't look up as he left the room.