Raven (Gentlemen of the Order #2) - Adele Clee Page 0,77
“Hurry, sir! Hurry!” She released the chatelaine she held in her other hand and moved swiftly forward. “It’s the mistress, sir … the mistress …” Two hounds bounded into the house, nipping at her cloak and tugging for her attention. “Hurry! The mistress followed the maid into the water.”
Finlay’s heart stopped.
His entire life flashed before his eyes in the space of seconds.
Past. Present. Future.
A broken heart. Shattered dreams. Unbearable loss.
“The water?” he snapped. “The moat?”
“Yes, sir, hurry.”
Good God!
Finlay raced outside. Fear threatened to consume him as he followed the hounds to the water’s edge. “Sophia!” Nausea roiled in his stomach. The pain in his throat mirrored the pain behind his eyes as he held his emotion at bay. “Sophia!”
“F-Finlay!”
Thick mist clung to the ground, making it difficult to see where the grass verge ended and the moat began, but the hounds had stopped a few feet ahead, their harsh barks communicating the urgency.
Finlay lay flat on the ground and crawled forward until he reached the edge. “Sophia!” He thrust out his arm. “Can you see my hand?”
“Yes, b-but I’m so c-cold, Finlay. I’m so t-tired.”
Mother of all devils!
There was nothing for it. He’d have to enter the water.
But then D’Angelo appeared behind him. He dropped to a sitting position on the ground and grabbed Finlay’s feet. “Crawl closer. I’ll hold you, stop you slipping into the moat.”
D’Angelo was as strong as an ox and kept a firm hold of Finlay’s legs as they both shuffled forward.
“Can you grab my hand, Sophia?” Finlay grasped at nothing but air.
“No, you’re t-too—” Sophia panicked. She mumbled to herself to keep calm, called out to the Lord and prayed for Divine intervention.
“I’m going in,” he cried to D’Angelo.
“No!” D’Angelo shuffled forward again, giving Finlay another inch. “By the time your muscles relax and become accustomed to the cold, it will be too late. Trust me. I’ll not let you go.”
Finlay crawled forward another inch until his torso hung over the verge. He reached out again and brushed the tips of Sophia’s fingers. Making contact gave him the confidence to advance a little further. This time, he managed to grip her fingers and haul her closer to the bank.
Hellfire!
Her digits were as cold as ice.
“Hold on, Sophia!” he cried.
And then a loud curse and the crunching of booted footsteps on the gravel marked Sloane’s arrival. He darted to the water’s edge and dropped down next to Finlay.
“It seems I’ve arrived just in time,” Sloane said.
“Sophia is in the moat, but she should be easier to grab now I’ve pulled her closer to the bank.” And Sloane had a slightly longer reach.
“I’ve got hold of her wrist.” Sloane gritted his teeth in steely determination. “D’Angelo, we’ll haul her out on the count of three.”
D’Angelo counted, and they used all their strength to drag Sophia out onto the bank.
Finlay quickly turned her onto her back. Relief brought tears to his eyes when he saw her heave a breath. Her lips were blue, her face deathly white, almost grey. Her body shook from being submerged in the moat’s icy depths. The worst was over, but he had to get her out of the cold, had to warm her limbs.
“Are you all right?” he said, frantically rubbing life back into her cheeks and arms and hands.
She blinked water from her eyes and nodded. “Yes, b-but I’m so cold, Finlay.”
Finlay pressed his lips to hers, the chaste kiss conveying the wealth of love in his heart. “I’ll carry you upstairs. You need a hot bath and one of Mrs Friswell’s tisanes. What about Maud?”
Sophia sighed and shook her head before conveying her thanks to Sloane and D’Angelo. “I’m r-relieved to see you alive, M-Mr Sloane.”
“We heard the gunshot and the blood-curdling scream,” Finlay said.
“Goodwin tripped the wire on the spring-gun and took a ball to the thigh. The fool scrambled to his feet but later collapsed and caught his head in a mantrap.”
Finlay hissed in sympathy, for it was an unpleasant way to meet one’s end.
Sophia brought a shaky hand to her mouth, but made no reply.
“I need to get Sophia inside.” Finlay crouched and quickly scooped her up into his arms. A chill often led to infections in the chest, worse besides. “But in short, Maud shot Archer dead, then drowned in the moat. I shall pen a statement while the facts are still fresh in my mind, but only once Sophia is settled.”
Sloane nodded. “We will do the same. I’ll alert the local magistrate, and D’Angelo will take