Page 40 of My Hellion, My Heart
Good Lord. Had he beenshot?
Irina dropped her bow and tugged the reins, redirecting Jules until his nose was pointed toward the periphery of the ribboned-off course. She gave him a firm nudge with her heel and he was off, rushing toward the hip-high ribbon. With a cry of alarm from the crowd looking on, Jules jumped the ribbon and bolted away from the archery course. She thought she heard Max calling after her to stop, but she could only concentrate on Henry’s slumped back. She swallowed a scream when his gray hurdled over the stone wall far ahead, and his figure swayed perilously to the side, as if he might fall off. But he stayed seated, his horse continuing to flee.
The men near the pond shouted after her as she raced past, Lord Thorndale roaring instead to a footman for him to bring his bloody horse at once. None of them had mounts at the ready, but they all seemed to know what Irina did: that the Earl of Langlevit was in trouble.
The wind took her hat as she passed the small pond, and as she leaned over Jules’s neck, her backside out of the saddle, her grip loose on the reins so Jules would only go faster, she felt as if she were flying. And yet, not fast enough.
She jumped the stone wall, and as she came down into the green grass on the other side, spotted Henry and his mount at the bottom of the hill below. The gray seemed to have slowed, thank heavens, but it was still cantering toward an outcropping of elm trees.
“My lord!” she shouted, swallowing air and knowing her voice could not possibly have reached him.
However, the gray seemed to have heard it. It slowed further and with agitated shakes of its head and mane, came to a prancing halt just before the trees.
Henry remained in the saddle, his head bent forward, his body stiff and hunched as he rocked forward and back. Jules descended the hill, and she reined him in, coming to a stop just beside the gray.
“Henry?” she said. He didn’t appear to be injured, or shot, but he was muttering to himself, his lips moving over words she couldn’t make out.
Irina recalled the stupor he’d been in on the road to Essex, after the tree branch had fallen. Lying there in the road, his eyes closed, it had been like watching someone unable to wake up from a nightmare. The crack of the gun had likely startled his horse, but it might have done something worse to him. Unlike the last time he’d gone into shock, his eyes were open now. Whatever he was seeing, she guessed, it was not their current surroundings.
“It’s Irina, Henry. I’m right here,” she said, reaching over to touch his arm. Her hand settling upon the rigid muscle of his bicep. “Look at me, Henry. You’re in a field. You’re home, in England. You’re safe.”
She felt silly, talking to him this way, keeping her voice purposefully calm when her heart was thrashing madly in her chest. But she knew that whatever he was seeing right now was painful and frightening. She needed to bring him back.
A sound from the top of the hill where the stone wall was caught her attention. She turned and saw Lord Thorndale and two other men had acquired their mounts and were approaching.
“Henry,please,” she said, turning back to him. He would be humiliated if his peers found him this way. “People are coming. Wake up!”
He stared blankly ahead, his brows furrowed. At least he was still upright in his saddle. Irina grasped his mount’s reins and tugged them, leading the gray beside her as she turned to face the riders, one of which was Lord Marston, the Duke of Hastings.
“Langlevit, what the devil?” Marston asked.
“Is he shot?” Lord Thorndale asked, his eyes roaming over Henry with concern.
“No,” Irina answered. “He might have…hit his head.”
“Upon what?” Thorndale asked, his keen eyes coming to rest on her.
“I’m…not sure, however, he’s just told me his temple is paining him. Lord Marston, does that path over there lead back to the main house?”
Irina pointed toward a trail through the field, cutting up the opposite side of the hill and into the trees.
“Why yes, but, Langlevit, you’re sure you’re not shot? I’m going to thrash young Bucksley with that blasted shotgun of his. I don’t know what he was thinking, walking around with it primed like that. He could have killed someone!”
“Oh yes, yes, he’s perfectly fine, aren’t you, Lord Langlevit?” she asked, quickly leading the gray toward the path and continuing her babbling to try to cover for the fact that Henry was completely unresponsive.
“Just a headache, isn’t that right? I’ll go with him to the house, and you men can return to your competition. Tell everyone all is well! Good afternoon!” she called, before kicking Jules into a trot and praying Henry did not slide off his saddle, straight into the grass. It was absurd, and she knew Thorndale at least had not bought one bit of her blabbering, but for the moment, they were alone again.
“Henry, you must say something,” she said, quickly leading him out of the field and into the tree line. Once they were in, obscured by the thick elm trunks and canopy of leaves, she let the muscles in her back go slack. “I cannot return you to the house like this.”
She slowed their mounts and turned to him again. Removing her glove, she reached across the divide and cupped his cheek, recalling the way she’d done so that day on the post road. When he did not respond as he had then, Irina felt a flutter of panic.
“What can I do?” she asked, suddenly worried that he might be stuck like this forever.
Irina brushed her thumb along his skin, tracing his lower lip. He’d stopped his incoherent murmuring, at least. She released his cheek and took up his hand, resting limp on his thigh, though his fingertips were pressed hard into his leg. She softened each finger and held his hand, bringing it to her lips.
Irina removed his glove and kissed the ridge of his knuckles, her heart aching. “Tell me what to do.”
She stroked his hand, tracing the tracks of his veins with her fingertips and brushing her lips against his skin in their wake. It was like he was a statue, made of human flesh and bone, but inhabited by nothing. His complete lack of response and catatonic state frightened her.
