Chapter Thirty-Eight
The cold had long since seeped into Olivia’s bones until she could feel ice in her veins, fingers of frost curling around her insides.
Darkness, blessed darkness, called to her, promising respite from the cold and the pain in her hands. But each time she shifted toward oblivion, the fear gripped her once more and she tightened her hold on the branch—the only thing that stood between her and death.
But she couldn’t hold on forever. Her strength was draining from her, a great weight pulling her downward, toward the lifeless form below.
Nicola’s screams still circled in her mind—the roar of triumph and hatred, followed by the scream of terror as Nicola had toppled over the edge, before it had been abruptly silenced.
Olivia glanced up, her gaze falling once more on the fissure higher up on the wall—large enough to shelter in, close enough to taunt her with its nearness, but too far out of reach to risk relinquishing her hold on the sapling.
Henrietta Thorpe would have scaled the wall with little effort. Eleanor always said how skilled Henrietta was at climbing trees. But Olivia was not Henrietta. She lacked both the strength and courage to scale a wall where the smallest mistake could result in her sharing Nicola’s fate.
If only she’d listened to her heart rather than her fears! But it was Nicola who’d placed those fears in her heart—seeds of doubt that had sprouted into dark shoots, choking her soul.
Oh, Charles, why couldn’t I have trusted you?
A cacophony of caws filled the air, warring with the angry rush of the river below.
Something had disturbed the roosting birds, which squawked and protested.
Shivering, Olivia tightened her grip, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.
The light was fading now the sun had dipped below the horizon.
Soon, the night hunters would emerge to claim the world and await her surrender to the inevitable.
The heartbeat intensified until the earth seemed to thrum with it, as if a herd of beasts pounded on the ground with heavy, hungry footsteps.
Then she heard a roar, primal and savage, and her insides knotted with terror. It was the roar of a beast, deep and dark…
…and she could swear that the beast roared her name.
She was about to be devoured. Never would she see him again, the man she had grown to love.
“Charles!”
The footsteps approached, and she whimpered in fear. Then they stopped. She caught her breath, then heard a cry, filled with anguish.
The cry of a man.
She tilted her head back, straining to see the top of the ridge.
“Wh-who’s there?”
She heard a gasp and held her breath as a shape moved above her. Then a face appeared.
A face she knew and loved.
“Charles? Is that you?”
His eyes widened, then he blinked, slowly, and parted his lips as he reached toward her.
“O-Olivia.”
Sweet heaven! Had he spoken? His voice, though strained as if he were in agony, was raw and deep, reverberating through her bones.
“Nicola pushed me,” she said. “I-I caught hold of her, a-and she…” She caught her breath as her body spasmed with cold and he raised his hand.
“Shh…”
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” she said. “I can hardly feel my hands. I—No!”
She broke off as he swung his legs over the edge.
“Charles, it’s too dangerous! You’ll fall.”
But he ignored her pleas and climbed down, moving his big body slowly over the rocks.
His foot dislodged a rock, and Olivia screamed as he slid toward her.
The rock rattled past her, and she held her breath until she heard a splash far below.
Charles was now almost within reach, clinging to the side of the ravine.
Then, slowly, he extended an arm toward her.
She glanced toward the river below. It was barely visible, save for the occasional cold glint of reflected moonlight in the dark swirls as it continued to rage over the rocks, bubbling and roaring.
“I-I can’t move,” she said. “If I let go, I’ll fall.”
He shifted closer until his hand almost touched hers. Fear coiled around her body like a rope, paralyzing her.
Then her husband drew in a deep breath, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, and spoke in a soft whisper.
“Trust me.”
Slowly she uncurled one hand from the branch.
Her body weight shifted, and her foot slipped.
She cried out, fighting to regain her foothold, but found nothing but air beneath her feet.
But the hand that took hers held it in a firm, strong grip, his huge fingers curling around her wrist. Then he pulled her up until she was close enough to circle her free arm around his neck.
“Charles!” she sobbed, glancing toward the top of the cliff. “Y-you won’t be able to climb back up—it’s too steep. Why risk your life for me?”
His eyes darkened and she shivered at the flicker of anger in them.
He glanced about and gestured toward the fissure, then, slowly, he climbed upward, moving one limb at a time, testing each hold before committing to the movement, while she clung to him.
At length they reached the fissure, and he pushed her inside, where she fell back.
No longer clinging on for her life, she surrendered to exhaustion.
Her body began to tremble violently, and her teeth chattered with the cold.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cause such trouble. I—”
“Shh…”
He placed a finger on her lips, before leaning forward and brushing his mouth against hers. Then he removed his jacket and placed it about her shoulders.
“Charles, it’s too cold. You’ll freeze. It’s not worth…”
He raised his hand, the flash of anger returning to his eyes. Then he gestured, slowly and deliberately.
Do not speak so. You are worth everything.
“Charles…”
Her voice trailed away as he placed his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, relishing his warmth.
I would willingly give my life for you. I…
He hesitated, then placed his hand over his heart and gestured to her.
His forehead creased as if he were in pain, and he parted his lips, his body tense, then closed his eyes.
“Love,” he whispered, his voice a low rasp. “I l-love—”
He broke off and drew in a sharp breath.
“—you.”
He exhaled, trembling, then opened his mouth once more. The pain in his eyes intensified and she placed her fingertips over his lips.
“No, my love,” she said. Then she took his hand and placed it over her heart. “You have no need to speak, Charles. I love you as you are.”
He moved his hands.
And I you.
She shifted toward him, to settle in his arms, but he raised his hand. Then he gestured to her belly and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, Charles, I…”
He placed his hand on her belly and caressed it. His eyes gleamed, and she caught a flash of reflected light as a tear spilled onto his cheeks.
“Child,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said, placing her hand over his. The twin rubies of his ring and hers winked in the twilight. “I’m carrying your child.”
He took her face in his hands, and his eyes, wet with tears, creased with a smile. Then he pulled her close, encircling her in his large, muscular arms.
“Charles, what are we going to do?” she said. “I-I cannot climb back up.”
“Shh…” he whispered, rocking her to and fro.
“Does anyone know where we are?”
He nodded against her, then tightened his embrace. “W-we wait.”
“Yes, my love,” she whispered. “I’ll wait forever as long as I have you by my side.”
He then placed a kiss on the top of her head. Drawing comfort from his silent solidity, Olivia nestled into his embrace and drifted into a doze.
Images flashed before her mind’s eye—a dull orange glow, a flickering flame, a length of rope coiled around her waist. Then a softly whispered voice soothed the ache in her bones before it was accompanied by other voices—Jacob’s familiar timbre, the gentle scolding of Mrs. Brougham, and finally the firm, professional tones of Dr. Cheam.
But the one constant was the warm hand that enveloped hers, holding her firm, promising never to leave.
Then a bitter taste swamped the back of her tongue, and she slipped into oblivion.
When Olivia next opened her eyes, she was surrounded by sunlight. She tilted her head and blinked, her eyes watering in the light. She was in her bedchamber, her husband still clinging to her hand, his dark gaze fixed on her. As she tried to sit, he shook his head and gently pushed her back.
“Ah, the patient’s awake.”
She turned her head, wincing at the ache in her neck to see Dr. Cheam rising from a chair.
“You’ve had quite an adventure, Lady Devereaux,” he said. “First you tumble down the stairs, then, as if that’s not exciting enough, you see fit to throw yourself off a cliff. I rather wonder whether—”
He broke off as Charles rose to his feet, anger in his eyes.
“Of course, I’m just jesting.” The doctor held up a phial. “I can give you a little more laudanum if you’re still in pain, though I’m not an advocate of its use when a woman is with child.”
“I’m in no pain, Dr. Cheam,” Olivia said.
“Is there anything that you need?”
She glanced at the huge hand engulfing her own, then lifted it to her lips.
“No, Dr. Cheam,” she said. “I have everything I need—and will ever need—right here.”