11. Chapter Eleven #3
Roger looked to the right of him. His heartbeat dropped and panic swept his body, the same form of panic he had felt when the explosion happened, killing Ian.
Miss Nicholson was buried in a newspaper while walking across the street.
The foolish girl was in her own little world.
Without pausing to think or take a breath, Roger bolted in her direction.
“Miss Nicholson!” he screamed.
Margaret met his gaze. Before the motorcar could reach her, Roger lunged forward, tackling her to the sidewalk just in time.
His body pressed over hers like a human shield, pinning her onto the asphalt.
His hands cradled the back of her head, cushioning it from the hard ground.
Roger’s hands burned from the scraping, and his heart pounded erratically like a wild drumbeat in his chest. He looked down at the frightened woman.
Her eyes widened as if they were going to burst, and her skin was pale.
Pressed beneath him, Miss Nicholson stared into his eyes, paralyzed with fear, trembling beneath his grasp.
It took Roger a moment to move. The situation had been so sudden, and he was in shock himself. He almost watched his boss’s daughter get herself killed. He sat up slowly, still cradling her head in his scraped hands. The motorcar had vanished.
“Are you all right?” Roger asked, in almost a whisper.
Miss Nicholson nodded slowly. Roger wrapped his arms around her back and waist, pulling her against him. She sat upright, still shaking.
“I got you. You’re going to be fine.”
Miss Nicholson trembled uncontrollably in his arms, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
“Can you stand?”
She nodded. “I-I think so.”
Roger helped her balance to her feet. She stumbled for a moment, but he placed his arm around her waist, keeping her steady.
Only minutes ago, he loathed the sight of her but having her in his arms and leaning against him was almost comforting.
But not for long. This woman could have been killed, just like Ian, and it would have been Roger’s fault.
He was the one who sent her away in rage.
“It must have been a drunk driver,” Roger said, his mouth growing dry. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
He let go of Miss Nicholson, and she straightened her hat. She didn’t speak for a while, just breathing. Roger had experienced being close to death, so he understood what she must be feeling.
“Do you need to lie down?”
Miss Nicholson shook her head. “I’ll be fine.” She paused for a moment. “Please don’t mention this to my father. I-I don’t want to worry him and my family.”
Roger nodded. “If we clear out before the journalists arrive, you might have a chance to not be made public.”
Miss Nicholson sighed. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
Roger looked back at the office across the road. “Let me escort you back.”
She nodded and took hold of his arm. Roger tried to open the door for her when they arrived at the office but was caught off guard. He noticed Miss Nicholson staring at him—not just for a moment, but for a while.
“You saved my life,” she said in an almost whispering tone. “Thank you, Mr. McKinley.”
You saved my life. That was something he longed to hear in an alternate universe from Ian.
If he had been on high alert, as he was with his boss’s daughter, Ian would still be alive.
Roger closed his eyes, seeing Ian again—his singed body lying amidst the flames.
t was the right timing when he had seen Miss Nicholson.
She could have been killed like Ian, but Roger had swooped in.
He looked into Miss Nicholson’s sweet, innocent eyes.
He no longer saw her as a spoiled girl at that moment.
She was a helpless, darling angel, but seeing her this way made his guilt return.
He had lost Ian. He had been the last of his family, and he was gone.
After saving Miss Nicholson, she had been under his weight, so close and so dear.
This woman’s frightened eyes had looked into his as though he were her hero.
Roger couldn’t care for anyone again, especially Miss Nicholson.
He had to stop this. He couldn’t think of her as anything other than the spoiled daughter of his boss.
“It was nothing.”
Miss Nicholson placed her hand on his arm. “Nothing? I owe you my life.”
I owe you my life. Roger couldn’t have given his life for Ian. Roger looked back at Miss Nicholson. “Just doing what a decent gentleman would.” His voice almost sounded harsh. “Watch where you’re going next time. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Before Miss Nicholson could speak, Roger walked away.
He had left his hat at the office, but he couldn’t go back in.
He needed to keep away from Margaret Nicholson.
He was made of darkness. That darkness was to remain in him.
He deserved it. There would be no light in his life.
If only he had died instead of Ian, he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt that tortured him to his core.