From Boss to Bridegroom (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

S
omething heavy and unmovable pinned him face-first to the floor.

His right shoulder ached clear through to the bone. Pain ricocheted against his skull, and he tried to blink away the misty haze marring his eyesight. His living space—what was left of it—was cloaked in watery shadows. Bits of leaves and bark and spilled coffee grounds littered the wet floorboards. Broken mugs and dishes, too.

By the grace of God, he'd managed to get inside this room, out of the way of the larger tree section. All he had to do now was wait and hope the roof didn't give way.

That final image of Nicole shimmered in his mind's eye, intensifying his discomfort. Not knowing where she was, whether or not she was unhurt, was far worse than any physical pain he had to endure.
Please Lord, let her be okay.

Shifting his lower body, he tried to dislodge the object holding him down. The bad news? It didn't budge an inch. The good news? He didn't seem to have suffered any major injuries in his legs or back.

Stars danced in his vision. His temples throbbing, Quinn rested his cheek once more against the floor and focused on steadying his breathing. The weight made it tough to fully expand his lungs. As he lay there, he began to make out repetitive sounds above the noise of the rain splattering through the ceiling.

He couldn't identify the source for long minutes. The hammering in his head made it difficult to string thoughts together.
That's it. Hammers.

Or were they saws?

A male voice called out, followed by a series of replies.

People were out there, trying to get to him.

Was Nicole out there? Or was she lying unconscious on a bed at Doc's?

He had to get free. Had to find her.
Now.

Gritting his teeth, he braced his palms beneath him and pushed upward with all his might. His shoulder screamed in protest. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Frustration swept over him as the futility of his actions registered.

A familiar voice pierced the fog clouding his brain.

“Shane?” he pushed out, wincing at the breathy weakness of his voice. No way was the lawman gonna hear that.

The minutes crawled by. Quinn wasn't certain how much time passed. The rain lessened to a pitter-patter, and the peals of thunder echoed from miles away. He fought against the need to sleep, no matter that it would bring relief.

“I see him.” Shane's excited shout dimly registered.

Rest. That's all he craved...a couple of blessed minutes in the encroaching blackness.

There came a shuffling sound. Boots scuffing against the boards.

“We're gonna get you out of here, friend.” A hand skimmed his back.

“Where—” He gulped in air. “Nicole?”

“She's fine. Actually, that's not entirely true. She's making my job nigh impossible.”

If Nicole was giving the lawman fits, she really was fine.

Quinn let go of the fear and worry he'd been holding on to. Then he slept.

* * *

“Something's going on.” Slipping her arm free of Jane's, Nicole craned her neck in an effort to see past the dirt-and-sweat-streaked men sorting through the debris. From her position near the side wall, she couldn't make sense of the increase in activity.

The earth was a muddy morass, the skies a gray, undulating cauldron. Word of the accident had spread like wildfire through the town. A large crowd of onlookers—mostly women, children and the elderly, who weren't directly involved with the search—filled the street and the area beside the mercantile, where she and her mother and sisters waited anxiously.

They'd tried to convince her to go home and change out of her torn and sodden clothes, but she'd refused. She'd also refused to seek treatment for her bloodied, splintered hands. She wasn't leaving this spot until Quinn was located.

Rain-scented wind tugged at her damp hair. “I'm going over there.”

Jane protested. “Maybe you should wait—”

“I'm done waiting!”

Weaving around the workers, she reached the place where Caleb had been sawing through the logs. He'd moved to the doorway, attention on someone inside.

“What's happening?” she demanded.

His mouth flattened. Neither he nor the lawman were happy with her almost constant requests for updates. That was okay, because she wasn't too happy with them for not letting her help.

Beneath the irritation, sympathy swirled in the brown depths. “Shane found him.”

The world tilted, and she shot out a hand to balance herself against the building, oblivious to the stinging sensations crawling up her arm. “How is he?”

“A little banged up, but he's going to be all right. We just have to free him first.”

Something in his voice sounded an alarm.

Free him?
Nausea roiled. “I want in there.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If it were Rebecca in there, would you be content to remain an onlooker?” She glared at him.

Surprise flitted across his face. “Are you saying...you and Quinn—”

“N-no,” she sputtered, heat climbing into her cheeks. “I didn't intend to make it sound like— Look, he's more than my boss. He's my friend. I care about him.” With deliberate, careful steps, she closed the space between them, looking up at him beseechingly. “I know without a doubt that if our positions were reversed, Quinn would do everything in his power to help me.”

He'd already put his community standing on the line for her. She'd no doubt he'd risk his very life for her.

“The building isn't stable, Nicki. I understand how you feel—”

“If you don't let me in, I'll simply find another way.”

There were men working to clear the broken glass and logs at the front of the store. She could try there.

One black brow arched. “Or I could throw you over my shoulder and take you home this instant.”

Desperation burned in her veins. “Caleb, please,” she whispered, her voice raw. “If you've ever cared about me, you'll let me do this.”

Eyes narrowing, his jaw worked.

Claude Jenkins appeared in the hallway. “Sheriff wants you to fetch Doc right away.”

“Got it. He headed up front a few minutes ago.” Caleb sighed and balanced his saw against the wall. “Try to stay out of trouble, will you?”

“I promise.”

Addressing the banker, he said, “Help her inside.”

Claude hesitated for an instant before extending his hand. Her legs suddenly like jelly, she concentrated on where to place her feet.

Nicole wasn't prepared for the sight of Quinn's still, prone form facedown on the floor.

Ignoring Shane, whose frown deepened at the sight of her, she fell to her knees beside him and lightly stroked his cheek. “Quinn?”

Behind her, Claude resumed his attempts to saw through the spot where the limb on top of Quinn connected to the larger, thicker trunk.

“He was awake when I found him,” Shane said, gloved hands clamped around the limb and lifting up, trying to relieve the pressure on Quinn's back. “He asked about you.”

She blinked away tears. Blood matted his hair. The sight of it, along with his torn shirt and more of the sticky red substance soaking through the material, left her insides numb.

“Should I put a compress on that?” She pointed to his shoulder wound.

Strain tightening his features, Shane jerked a nod. “Go easy. He's having trouble getting enough air in his lungs.”

With trembling fingers, she peeled the cotton away. The gash didn't appear too deep.

Scanning the kitchen area, she located a stack of cloths scattered across the work surface. She grabbed the one on top. When she dropped down to place the makeshift compress on his shoulder, she noticed his lids fluttering. A groan escaped.

Gingerly smoothing the hair from his forehead, she leaned close. “We're going to get you out soon.”

He blinked. Confusion and discomfort lent his eyes a glassy look. “Duchess?”

“I'm right here.”

“You wouldn't happen to have a peppermint in your pocket, would you?”

His question elicited a surprised laugh. “Only you would be thinking about such things right this minute.”

He licked his lips. “Dry mouth.”

“We'll get you water.”

An overhead beam creaked and bits of dirt rained down. Shane, who'd been observing them with open interest, eyed the ceiling with concern.

Quinn speared her with an imperious look that no doubt had had his employees back in Boston scrambling. “You should go.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“I'm your boss.”

She gestured to the ruined quarters. “Not anymore,” she said gently.

He closed his eyes. “How bad is it, Shane?”

“The building's a total loss. Should be able to salvage some of the merchandise, though.”

“What wasn't damaged in the initial accident was probably ruined by the rain,” he said, and sighed, eyes still closed.

Claude paused to swipe his sleeve across his forehead. His cheeks were red from exertion. “I'm about to sever the limb. Be ready.”

On his knees facing her, Shane nodded and braced his body. Nicole scrambled to assist. Her hands would pay for this later.

Within moments, they had it rolled off him. Quinn started to push himself up.

“Whoa, there,” Shane hurried over. “Maybe you should wait until Doc takes a look at you.”

“I'm fine,” he panted, easing into a sitting position. “Just light-headed.”

His skin was pulled tight across his cheekbones, his lips colorless. Her heart pinched in the face of his pain.
At least he's awake and coherent.
His injuries could've been worse. Much worse.

Offering up a prayer of heartfelt gratitude, she was about to go to him when Caleb appeared in the doorway. He shot Nicole a searching look and, apparently satisfied she was unharmed, sidestepped to allow Doc Owens room to pass.

The cursory examination didn't take long.

“You're a fortunate man, Mr. Darling. I detect no broken bones.” To the other men, he said, “Help him to my office so I can stitch up those gashes.”

Caleb and Shane assisted Quinn to his feet. Claude waited by the door.

“Come with us,” Caleb told her. “Doc will need to tend your hands.”

All heads swiveled to her.

Quinn's features sharpened and his brow creased. “What's wrong with your hands?”

“It's nothing.”

“Let me see.” Despite his weakened state, the command brooked no argument.

Acutely aware of their intent audience, she held them out, wincing at his quiet gasp.

“How?”

Nicole wasn't about to explain that, in her desperation to reach him, she'd paid no heed to the obstacles, had clawed at the branches and broken boards blocking her way. “Doesn't matter.”

“I beg to disagree.” He started forward, only to weave slightly and put a hand to his head.

“While I admit I'm fascinated by this conversation,” Caleb drawled, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, “I think we'd best concentrate on getting out of here.”

Quinn's jaw went taut. “I'll let it drop. For now.”

Progress to Doc's house was slow. The crowd cheered and clapped at the sight of him walking out of the wreckage. Disregarding his physical injuries, folks surged forward to offer a word of encouragement or to tell him not to worry about the store. Nicole lost count how many offers of assistance he received.

He patiently responded to each person, sincere in his appreciation. Was she the only one who noticed his increasing pallor? The deep grooves carved on either side of his mouth?

Just when she was about to stomp her feet in frustration, Shane shooed everyone away.

At Doc's, Nicole waited alone in the parlor while Quinn's injuries were tended. He'd sent the lawman and her cousin on their way. And she'd insisted she didn't need her mother and sisters hovering while she waited.

When the unflappable doctor motioned for her to enter the treatment room, she paused on the threshold. She hadn't expected to find Quinn still awake. His hair had been washed, and he wore a clean shirt that was several sizes too big. No doubt one of Doc's.

“I thought you'd be asleep,” she said, going to sit in the chair Doc indicated.

“I don't particularly like taking medicine.” He followed the older man's movements as he methodically gathered gauze, a jar of white paste and tweezers.

“Put your hands on the table,” Doc ordered, lowering his bulk into the chair opposite.

Nicole did as instructed, averting her eyes to a waterfall painting in order to avoid Quinn's scrutiny. She did her best not to flinch. By the time he was finished, she was tempted to toss those hateful tweezers in the river.

Standing with her back to Quinn, she flexed her stinging, gauze-encased hands and wondered how she was supposed to complete her sewing projects on time. Or pack.

When Doc left them to rejoin the cleanup efforts, she trudged to the bed Quinn occupied. Her uncomfortable clothes were finally getting to her. She longed for a hot, steaming bath and her favorite nightgown.

“How's your shoulder?” Nicole said.

“Bruised.”

“And your head?”

“Doc sewed up the gash.”

Taking hold of her wrist, he tugged her close until her legs nudged the mattress. Against the crisp white linens and mountain of pillows propping him up, his raven hair gleamed and his brown eyes were shadowed. “I'd like an explanation now, please.”

In her mind's eye, she pictured him as he'd looked seconds before that tree collapsed. The exhaustion and jumbled emotions she'd been holding at bay rushed in, buckling her knees. It was either take refuge on the bed or land on the floor. She sat down on the edge, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.

Residual fear muddied her throat. “I wasn't thinking clearly. I...needed to find you.”