A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(71)

It wasn’t a snake. It was a woman.

His Katie, tucked beneath a bit of overhanging turf, soaked to her skin and shivering in a muddy hole in the ground.

“Jesus Christ.”

He stepped down into the pit, bracing his boot on a ledge of stone and stretching his free hand toward her. “Katie, it’s me. Take my hand.”

“You’re here.” Her face was so pale, and her voice was frayed. “I knew you’d find me. You always find me.”

Her arm looked positively ghostly as she reached up to him. He worried he’d make a grab for her hand and discover she’d dissolved to mist. Lost to him forever.

But no. When he tightened his fingers, they seized on real flesh and blood. Treacherously chilled flesh and blood, but he would take her any way he could have her, so long as she was alive.

With a few tugs and a bit of cooperation on her end, he had her out of the hole. She fell against him, and he caught her in his arms.

“Katie.” He stared down at her, horrified. Her thin muslin frock was soaked through, clinging to her skin in mud-streaked tatters. “Are you injured? Are you broken anywhere?”

“No. Just c-cold.”

He released her—steadying her on her feet so he could strip out of his coat. The damn sleeves were fitted too well, and the fabric was damp. He had to struggle, and every moment he wasted was a moment she shivered with cold. By the time he finally had the thing off, he’d rattled through every blasphemy in his vocabulary.

“What the devil are you doing out in this?”

“I . . . I didn’t mean to be. I took Badger out for a run, and we were caught in the rain. I didn’t realize how much he’d hate it. I thought dogs loved the rain.”

“Not sight hounds.”

“S-So I’ve learned. At the first sprinkle of rain, he darted down into the hole. I couldn’t make him leave, and I wouldn’t leave him. I decided we’d just take shelter and wait the downpour out. But then it went on and on. By the time it eased a little, I was so very c-cold.”

He threw his coat around her shoulders and drew it closed. For a summer rain, this one was cold, and God only knew how long she’d been out in it. Her lips were a distressing shade of blue, and now she wasn’t making a damn bit of sense.

“I had to go walking, you see. I had to keep walking until I found the answer. Even if it t-t-took all day and all night. I had to know. But now I do.” Her teeth chattered and she stared blankly into the distance.

“I need to get you inside. We have to get you warm.”

Her eyes met his, suddenly lucid and piercing. “I remembered, Samuel.”

God. When she said his name, his heart made a mad, frantic attempt to escape his chest.

She collapsed against his body, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Her breath was a puff of warmth against his skin.

“I remembered you,” she whispered. “You, the music, the song. That night. I remembered everything.”

Chapter Eighteen

I remembered everything.

Thorne refused to think about the implications of her words. He needed to get her to dry shelter as soon as possible. Everything else could wait.

The castle was barely a quarter mile off. He could have put her up on his horse, but the beast was exhausted from slogging through mud all afternoon. Thorne would have needed to walk alongside, which meant there’d be no speed advantage over simply carrying her himself.

So that was what he decided to do. At least she’d be able to borrow his heat.

Thorne wrapped one arm around the small of her back and slid the other beneath her thighs. With a flex of his muscles and a grunt of effort, he plucked her off her feet and settled her weight against his chest. She was a good bit heavier than when he’d done this last. But then, he was bigger and stronger, too.

He ducked his head, using his sleeve to wipe the raindrops from his face, and started walking. His boots squelched through the muddy flat, slowing his progress. When he finally reached the bluffs, he had firmer rock beneath his feet.

Of course, he also had to trudge uphill.

He paused to rebalance her weight. “Can you put your arms around me?”

She obeyed, sliding her chilled arms free and reaching to lace them around his neck. It helped. If nothing else, the secret thrill of her touch against his skin made his heart beat faster, powering a new surge of strength to his limbs.

He made the final climb in determined strides, carrying her straight to the heart of the castle—the keep, where his personal quarters were.

Once he had her inside, he lit a lamp and assessed her state more carefully. Her damp, chilled condition appalled him, but it also gave him something to do. He made a mental list. First, dry clothing and blankets. Second, a fire. Third, nourishment. Then he’d see about restoring her gown to rights.

Badger shook himself, spraying muddy droplets everywhere. Thorne threw him an old quilt, and the dog nosed and rolled in it.

“That’ll have to do for you,” he said to the dog. “She comes first.”

He rolled up his sleeves and went to work. There was nothing sensual in the way he helped her out of the sodden, mud-spattered frock. He moved briskly, willing himself not to notice anything of her bare body save the pale, bluish tinge of her skin and the way her muscles quivered. To take any pleasure from this would be disgusting and base.