Page 54 of Alone with a Scarred Earl
Her limbs were bent at unnatural angles. Her body was half-buried beneath debris. She did not move. She did not respond. The stillness was agonizing. Gabriel inhaled sharply, but the air refused to fill his lungs. This was not battle or war. This was worse. This was ruin.
This is what Charles had planned all along, he realized.
A terrible, ragged cry tore from Gabriel’s throat, raw, broken, and carrying more than desperation. It carried love, terror, and guilt, more complete than words could ever express. It ripped through the wreckage-strewn night, obliterating anyremnant of control, shattering the protective distance he had so ruthlessly maintained. None of it mattered now. Nothing but the sight of her, lying there still, silent, and terrifyingly fragile amid the destruction.
Please do not leave me, he begged silently. The thought slammed through him with suffocating force, a plea, a desperate prayer, a command issued to a universe that cared nothing for his demands. He lunged forward, trembling hands reaching, grasping, and tearing splintered wood away. James was already beside him, working with sharp efficiency, his face grim, barking orders to the footmen who scrambled to assist. But Gabriel barely heard him. The only thing that existed was Genevieve, pinned beneath the wreckage, her golden hair stained crimson.
His fingers were slick with both his blood and hers. He ignored the sting, his body driven by something far deeper than pain. They freed her slowly and carefully. Once she was clear of the debris, Gabriel did not wait. He gathered her limp, broken form against his chest, instinct overriding caution, and his arms closing around her with fierce, infinite gentleness.
James said something about restraint and warned against further injury, but Gabriel did not listen.
I cannot lose you now, he thought.
“Genevieve,” he said. “Genevieve, please, wake up.”
His voice cracked as he whispered her name, again and again, choked with grief, with desperate hope. She did not stir. Soon, the stillness became unbearable. James was issuing clipped commands to the footmen, assessing injuries, demanding bandages, preparing what little aid could be mustered. But Gabriel saw only Genevieve. She was so very still and silent, and lost, perhaps forever. All because of his own damnable fear.
Chapter Twenty-four
The ride back to Mountwood was a blur of frantic urgency and agonizing care. Gabriel refused to relinquish Genevieve, cradling her broken body against his chest as Apollo surged forward, moving at the fastest pace possible without worsening her injuries. Every jolt of the stallion’s powerful stride sent a sympathetic spear of pain through him, but he barely registered it. His focus was absolute. Every breath, every movement was centered on the fragile woman in his arms. She was frighteningly light.
The weight of her should have been reassuring as the presence he had yearned to hold for so long. But now, it was all wrong. She was too still, too silent, her head resting limply against his shoulder, her breathing unmeasurable. He wildly feared he only imagined the occasional shallow jump of her chest. The crimson stain on his coat, seeping from her head wound, spread slowly but unrelentingly. It is too much blood to lose, he thought, panic threatening to overtake him.
“Hold on,” he said. The words were whispered, urgent, meant for her, meant for himself. “Please, my love. Just hold on.”
His voice was thick with unshed tears, strained beneath the force of his terror. He had not shed tears since he was a child. Yet at the very real threat of losing his wife, it was all he could do to contain sobs.
James rode ahead at full gallop, pushing his horse mercilessly, racing to alert the household and summon Dr. Albright from the nearby village. Gabriel barely noticed. He barely saw the darkened countryside speeding past, barely felt the wind biting at his skin. Time had lost all meaning.
Nothing existed beyond Genevieve.
When they reached Mountwood, the household erupted into controlled crisis. Mrs. Cartwright moved with grim efficiency, issuing sharp, quiet orders as servants sprang into motion. Sophia, pale but composed, directed them with steady precision. Linens, bandages, hot water appeared as if conjured from thin air.
Stable hands formed a careful human chain, working with painstaking gentleness to transfer Genevieve from Gabriel’s arms to a waiting stretcher. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to resist their careful ministrations, though the act of releasing her felt akin to tearing his own heart from his chest. They carried her swiftly inside, up the grand staircase, into her prepared chambers. Dr. Albrightarrived with commendable speed, his usual placid expression turning grave as he assessed Genevieve’s still form.
Gabriel stood rigidly beside the bed, his hands clenched, his breathing shallow, barely contained terror radiating from him. At first, the relief when the physician found a pulse and her breath was overpowering. But then, Dr. Albright’s completed examination confirmed Gabriel’s worst fears.
“She has a severe concussion,” he said. “She remains unconscious, which is deeply troubling. She should be stirring right now. But she has lost a great deal of blood. It may be that she has lost too much.”
Gabriel’s stomach clenched, dread creeping through his veins like ice.
“There is a break in her left arm,” he said, continuing. “It must be set immediately.”
Gabriel barely nodded, his throat closing.
“She also has some cracked ribs,” he said over the sound of blood rushing in Gabriel’s ears. “The gash at her temple, which is what I am certain caused the concussion, is rather deep. It will require careful and immediate stitching.”
Gabriel bit his cheek, habitually forcing back tears, though he no longer cared to try to suppress his emotions.
“Will she survive?” he asked gruffly.
The physician glanced at Genevieve’s still motionless form and shook his head.
“I cannot say,” he said. “These procedures must be done for her to have the best chance. However, it is my experience that…“he paused, sighing. “I fear the damage could well be far too extensive. I fear she may be lost, despite all my effort.”
Gabriel choked back a sob, but he merely nodded.
“Proceed,” he said. “"Quickly, I beg you. I am determined not to leave her; this is not debatable."
