The Music Box (39 page)

“My … leg—” she choked out, then dissolved into coughing.

Another oath, and Bryce dropped to his knees, wresting the rocks away in a few powerful yanks.

Gaby felt the blessed relief of freedom.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He lifted her gently, cradling her against his chest and striding away from the heat, the smoke, the smell.

An unknown number of strides later, she heard him shout, “Wilson! There’s a fire at the warren!”

“A fire?” More pounding footsteps. “Dear Lord, Miss Gaby!” Wilson’s frightened exclamation came from right beside them.

“I’ll take care of Gaby,” Bryce instructed. “You get that shovel of yours and throw as much dirt as you can on the flames. It’s not out of control yet. But it will be. I’ll send help from the manor.”

“I’ll bring all my shovels. Send Goodsmith. We’ll put out that blaze. You just make sure Miss Gaby’s all right.”

“I intend to.” Bryce was moving again, and the motion was almost overwhelming.

“Bryce,” she whispered, her head swimming, “I … don’t think I can …”

The tightening of his arms about her was the last thing she remembered before she fainted.

A sea of voices surged about her, worried voices, taut with strain and fear. Something cumbersome lay on her head, and her body burned and ached as if she had a fever.

Did she?

With a supreme effort, she forced open her eyes.

“Welcome back, Wonderland.” Bryce’s words were light, but his expression was grim, his gaze anguished as it searched her face. “We missed you.” He captured her hand in his, bringing her fingers gently to his lips. “God, I’ve been so worried.”

Gaby gave him a puzzled look. “Your face is charred,” she started to say, but a fit of coughing stopped her. Her chest felt tight and raspy, eclipsed only by the unbearable pain in her head, a pain that increased with each successive cough.

“Shhh. Don’t try to talk.” Bryce kissed her palm, pressed his forefinger to her lips. “You inhaled a fair amount of smoke. It will take a while for your lungs to clear. And coughing will only worsen your headache.”

Memory flooded back.

Instinctively, Gaby tried to sit up, then thought better of it as throbbing waves swept over her.

“You’re in your bed,” Bryce supplied. “Nearly the entire family is here—all but Cook, Wilson, and Goodsmith. They’re in the kitchen. Cook is tending to the minor burns Wilson and Goodsmith got when they put out the fire. They did an astonishing job. There’s very little damage to the property other than the area directly surrounding the warren. Everyone is safe. Including Crumpet. And you.”

Gaby’s eyes filled with tears. “Aunt Herm—”

“I’m right here, darling.” From the chair on the opposite side of Gaby’s bed, Aunt Hermione leaned over, stroking her niece’s hair with a shaking hand. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“I’m here, too, Gaby,” Lily’s small voice chimed in. “Crumpet’s staying in my room until you’re well. He was behind the stables, munching on some tossed-out vegetables when we found him. He’s real sorry to have caused so much trouble. And he can’t wait to see you.”

Gaby managed a tiny smile.

“Hot tea for the patient.” It was Chaunce’s voice, brisk as ever. The butler made his way through the room, placing a tray on Gaby’s nightstand. “Ah, Miss Gaby. I’m delighted you’re awake. The tea is hot and—” His voice broke and it took a full moment for him to recover himself. “I’ll pour you a cup,” he managed at last, his hand trembling as he did.

“I’m going to help you sit up a bit,” Bryce told her quietly. “I want you to drink the tea. Chaunce laced it with a bit of brandy, just as Dr. Briers instructed. It will relieve the pain and help you rest.” Bryce leaned forward and, in full view of the staff, brushed his lips to Gaby’s. “I know you ache everywhere right now, but that will pass. We were very lucky. The rock that evidently struck your head hit only hard enough to cause a minor concussion. And quite a hefty gash. Your leg is swollen and bruised, but not broken. In short, you’ll heal. Rapidly. We all intend to see to that.”

A chorus of fervent yeses reached Gaby’s ears.

“We’ll all be here when you awaken. So drink the tea and go to sleep. We’ll talk later.”

“All right,” she whispered, letting him help her to a half-sitting position. “Bryce?” she murmured between sips of tea.

“Hmm?”

“Thank … you.”

“Don’t.” He shook his head emphatically. “It wasn’t only you I was thinking of when I stalked through those flames. It was me. I couldn’t survive if anything happened to you. It wasn’t a choice, Gaby. I had to get to you. So I did.”

Tenderly Gaby caressed his jaw. “That … important question … you had to ask me …”

For the first time a smile touched his lips. “The instant we’re alone. I promise.”

Gaby finished the tea, then allowed her eyelids to droop. “G’night,” she slurred.

Bryce swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Good night, Wonderland.”

Evening melted into night. Gaby faded in and out of consciousness several times, each time drifting awake amid a sea of concerned faces, murmured voices, and gentle reassurances.

It was during the deepest hours of night that she opened her eyes to a dark room and silence.

“Bryce?” she whispered into the blackness.

A rustle of movement and he was by her side.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” Slowly he sank down on the edge of the bed, brushing strands of hair from her face.

He was wearing the same charred clothing he’d been wearing earlier, except that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up now and he’d washed away the telltale black streaks from his face.

He was not only the handsomest of men but the most welcome sight on earth.

“Are we alone?” she asked, looking about.

He smiled, following her gaze. “For the moment. However, I wouldn’t hold out much hope of that lasting. Chaunce and Hermione are probably already on their way back to check up on you. They’ve scarcely left your side all night.” He paused. “Your voice sounds much stronger. Is your breathing easing?”

“Yes. My chest doesn’t feel nearly as raspy as it did. Now I just feel weak.”

“Thank God for that. According to Dr. Briers, you must have regained consciousness soon after the fire was started. That’s why your burns are minor, and your difficulty breathing minimal. Evidently you had been lying amid the flames for only a few minutes when I arrived.”

“It seemed like an eternity.” Gaby shuddered. “As for thanking God, I do. But I also thank you. Had you not found me when you did …”

“Don’t even say it.”

“How did you know I needed you?”

“Just a feeling. This time I was smart enough to heed it.” Bryce leaned down, brushing Gaby’s lips with his. “Are you in any pain?” His fingertips grazed the weight on her head ever so slightly—a weight Gaby realized was a bandage.

“The pain has subsided a lot.” She reached up, caressed Bryce’s jaw. “Please. We can talk about everything else later. But, as you said, I doubt we’ll be alone for more than a few minutes. So …”

“So let’s get to my question,” he guessed with tender amusement. “Or rather, my questions. I have two. They accompany the two gifts I brought you from London.” He reached over to where his coat lay on the chair—the same coat he’d wrapped her in when he carried her to safety. Groping in his pocket, he extracted the tickets he’d procured. “Question one. Will you accompany me to the symphony next week? If you’re not up to it by then, we can exchange the tickets for a later performance.”

“Oh, Bryce, thank you.” Gaby touched the tickets gingerly … if a shade disappointedly. “I’ll be all healed by next week, I promise. I’d love to accompany you to the symphony. You know how badly I’ve wanted to go.”

“But …?”

“But it’s just that I thought … that is, I hoped—”

“Now for the second gift,” Bryce continued mysteriously, once again reaching into his pocket. “Acquiring this one took quite a bit of maneuvering, so I hope you’ll be more excited about it than you are about the tickets. In fact, I hope you’ll be exhilarated about it—as exhilarated as I am.” He extracted a folded piece of paper, flourished it before Gaby.

Gaby frowned, unable to read the paper in the darkness. “What is it?”

“A special license.” Abandoning his mock composure, Bryce placed the license beside them and, with aching tenderness, framed Gaby’s face between his palms. “I love you, Gabrielle Denning. You’ve filled a void inside me I never knew I possessed, much less recognized as empty. Will you do me the supreme and extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?”

Two tears slid down Gaby’s cheeks. “I’ve imagined this moment at least a thousand times since yesterday, prayed I hadn’t misunderstood the question you mentioned,” she whispered. “And now that my prayers have been answered, now that this moment is actually here, I want somehow to capture it, to make it last forever.”

“There will be an eternity of moments equally as treasured. This is but the first. I promise.” Bryce’s thumbs caught her tears, caressed the delicate contours of her cheekbones. “Now tell me, in your thousand imaginings, did you happen to provide me with an answer?”

Joy illuminated Gaby’s face. “Yes, I provided you with an answer—the same answer each and every time: Yes. With all my heart, yes, I want more than anything to become your wife.” She drew his mouth down to hers. “Bryce, I love you so much.”

With a husky sound, Bryce kissed her, a deep, reverent kiss that flowed through her like warm honey, soothing and inflaming all at once.

“Stay with me,” Gaby breathed. “Don’t leave.”

“Never again, Gaby.” Bryce’s meaning far transcended Gaby’s more immediate one. “Never, ever again.” He molded the softness of her lips to his, touching her, tasting her, savoring her flavor. “I won’t leave you or Nevon Manor—ever.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, buried his lips in hers for an endless, timeless moment. “This time I’m home to stay.”

“Nothing could make me happier than hearing you say those words.”

Along with Hermione’s fervent declaration, a shaft of light from the hall splintered the darkness, ending the magical spell of privacy that had prevailed during Gaby and Bryce’s moments alone.

Breaking apart, they turned toward the doorway, noting that both Hermione and Chaunce hovered on its threshold, having heard at least some portion of Bryce’s vow.

Judging from the rigidity of Chaunce’s stance, not the initial part.

“I’ve dreamed of this moment for as long as I can remember,” Hermione proclaimed, her voice trembling as she stepped into the room.

“Indeed,” Chaunce agreed, following her in and eyeing Bryce with decidedly less approval. “I’m equally delighted that you’ve elected to remain with us. However, don’t you think you might declare your intentions to do so while sitting in the chair? Miss Gaby is hardly up to so … strenuous a visit.”

Talking in Chaunce’s disapproving look, his less than subtle censure, Gaby laughed—laughter that ended on a moan as she clutched her head.

“Chaunce, please, it hurts when I do that. And to answer your question, no, Bryce could not have declared his intentions while sitting in a chair. Because one of those intentions—the one you obviously arrived too late to overhear—involved not Nevon Manor but me. Or, to be more exact, us.” Gaby’s enthralled gaze shifted to Hermione. “Bryce has asked me to marry him.”

“Oh, Gaby.” Hermione pressed her hand to her heart, joy shimmering through her like rays of sunlight. “I retract my original statement.
This
is the moment I’ve dreamed of forever, the moment destined to make me happier than any other. Chaunce”— she turned to him—“did you hear that?”

“I did indeed.” In contrast to his clipped reserve of a moment earlier, Chaunce was now actually smiling. “And I couldn’t be more pleased.” He guided Hermione toward Gaby’s bedside, shaking Bryce’s hand as Hermione leaned over to kiss her niece.

“When shall we plan this splendid occasion?” Hermione murmured. “A month from now? Two? That will give us ample time to make all the arrangements: the gown fittings, the musicians, the menu—”

“Three days,” Bryce interrupted quietly.

“Yes. Three days.”

A heartbeat of silence ensued.

Flattened against the wall just outside the open doorway, Lily clapped a hand over her mouth to silence her cry of delight. Carefully, she tiptoed away; then, when she’d reached a safe distance, tore off to report this new and exciting development.

Unaware of what was transpiring elsewhere in the manor, Bryce rose, folding his arms across his chest as he explained his position to Hermione and Chaunce. “I procured a special license while I was in London,” he began, gesturing toward the sheet of paper at Gaby’s bedside. “At the time, I did so because I wanted Gaby to have the freedom to choose whichever wedding day she wanted. But after what happened here this afternoon, what almost happened”—Bryce swallowed—“waiting is no longer an option. Hermione, someone tried to kill Gaby. There’s no guarantee that whoever it was won’t try again. I intend to ensure he doesn’t succeed.”

“But we’ll contact the police. Surely they’ll investigate.”

“Oh, they’ll investigate. The first thing they’ll do is to question the residents of Nevon Manor.”

“Oh, Bryce—no,” Hermione breathed. “Our family believes the fire was an accident. They wouldn’t be able to comprehend, much less accept the fact, that someone actually tried to kill Gaby. And questioning? They’d succumb under the strain.”

“Exactly. And since we know that no one here had anything to do with Gaby’s attack, the whole process would be unnecessarily destructive, and thoroughly unacceptable. It’s our job to protect our family, to spare them that emotional devastation.”

“The police might perceive a connection between Mr. Delmore’s murder and Miss Gaby’s assault,” Chaunce said thoughtfully.

“I agree. That’s a strong possibility, given the proximity of the two incidents. In which case, the police will assume one of two things. Either they’ll assume they’re dealing with coincidental assaults by the same desperate and somewhat ineffective thief who’s unable to discern a rich victim from a poor one, or they will reconsider my original suspicion with regard to Delmore’s destination and link the two crimes to someone at Whitshire. Which, at this point, is the last thing we need, because if they question Thane and his staff, the murderer might very well become alarmed and try again. And if Gaby is right here within striking distance …” Bryce broke off, a muscle working in his jaw.