The Third Son (21 page)

****

Damien held his hand over his pounding forehead, almost afraid to open his eyes. He knew without looking that his body lay at an odd angle, nearly upside down, his legs bent and over his head, his shoulders supporting all of his weight. The sound of gentle sobs brought him fully into consciousness and he opened his eyes slowly. He was staring at his shoes.
Damien
frowned. They were extremely scuffed. He flexed all of his joints before determining that nothing was broken. His head hurt like the devil and he was sure he would find some bruises once he was able to look in a mirror. 

“Esmeralda,” he said softly, causing the sobbing to cease immediately. “Esmeralda, are you all right?”

“Damien! Thank God, you’re alive!”

“Of course I’m alive, love. Where are you?”

“Right beside you.”

“At this impossible angle, I don’t even know where the side of me is located,” he said with an ironic laugh. “Would you help me make sense of myself?”

With a few tugs and pulls, Esmeralda managed to turn Damien on his side, where he was better able to assess their situation. First
,
he satisfied himself that she was all right. Her dress was badly torn in places and she was sporting a few bruises. Her hair was hopelessly disheveled and tangled in a mass around her head but she was otherwise fine. He made her move all of her joints and limbs just as he had done before allowing her to move again. Satisfied that nothing was broken, he began gazing around the overturned carriage. Damien guessed that it had probably turned a few times before stopping. They were now laying on one of the doors, with the other door directly overhead.

“We’ll have to climb out,” said Damien wearily, studying the bent carriage door above them. I am just tall enough to pop it open and perhaps I can jump out. Then I’ll lean in and pull you out.”  

Esmeralda grasped his arm tightly, pressing her face against his chest. “Perhaps we should call for Rawlins. Maybe he can help.”

Damien’s eyes met hers. His expression was grave. “If the carriage has overturned, Rawlins may not be able to hear us.”

“Oh no,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes. “Poor Rawlins!”

“Let’s not make any assumptions,” he said calmly, patting her back soothingly. “Perhaps he is just unconscious. In that case we had better hurry, he may need our help.”

Esmeralda nodded resolutely and raised herself to her knees. Damien struggled into a standing position, pausing several times to catch his breath.
He felt
a knot forming on the side of his head
. Esmeralda
urged him to hurry; she was afraid he would lose consciousness at any moment. His eyes were
heavy and his vision blurred
and his movements slow and uncoordinated. The blow to his head was starting to take its toll. Nonetheless, he reached upward with his long arms, determined to have Esmeralda free before he succumbed to the full extent of his injuries. Every muscle in his body ached, but he pushed through the pain and managed to shove the carriage door open. He grasped either side of the doorway, and pulled himself upward with a groan and every ounce of his strength.

“Give me a moment, love,” he said, panting and wiping the perspiration from his forehead. “I have to summon the strength to pull you out.”

Esmeralda waited silently, watching as Damien took several deep breaths and closed his eyes. He finally nodded and opened his eyes, using his last ounce of willpower to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand. His eyes were heavy and his head was pounding, and all he wanted to do was lie down on the ground and fall asleep. He lowered the upper half of his body into the carriage and held his arms down to Esmeralda.  “Take my hands and don’t let go,” he said. Esmeralda clenched his hands tightly and tried with all her strength to help Damien pull her from the carriage. After a few tries, he managed to pull her out.

They collapsed on the ground in a heap, a tangle of arms and legs. The horses were long gone, and the other carriage had abandoned them.
They
searched for Rawlins’ lifeless form, but could see nothing but dusty road, grass, and trees.
His strength waning, Damien could only focus on Esmeralda’s face. It blurred and faded to nothing as he lost consciousness.

When Damien awakened, he was in his own bed. He recognized the familiar ivory canopy above him immediately.
Damien
waited for his vision to focus before he tried to move his head. He felt slightly drowsy, yet he fought the grasping tentacles of grogginess as he struggled to recall what had happened since he’d pulled Esmeralda from an overturned carriage on the side of the road. 

“Esmeralda!” he exclaimed, shooting into a sitting position. His vision blurred once more and an overwhelming dizziness claimed him, forcing him back onto the pillows. A hand was in his immediately and Serge’s face appeared within his field of vision.

“Damien, you must lay still,” he said, working to prop Damien up with more pillows. “The doctor says you have a concussion and will be a bit dizzy for a little while.”

Damien fought unconsciousness and focused on Serge’s face, creased with worry lines. His normally merry blue eyes were and cloudy and turbulent.

“Esmeralda,” he repeated, remembering her battered form collapsing beside him on the side of the road. “Is she all right? How did I get here?”

“Esmeralda is here. I saw to i
t
that she was placed in a room nearby,” Serge replied. “Rawlins left the carriage when it overturned to get help. He thought you were dead.” 

“We could have been,” said Damien, accepting the glass of water pressed into his hand. He drank deeply and placed the cup back on the
nightstand
. “Some bastard driving a black carriage ran us off the road.”

Serge nodded. “Rawlins told us everything. He’s pretty battered himself. He’s got a couple of broken ribs and a sprained ankle.
I
f he hadn’t left to find help you might still be on the side of the road.”

“Someone should send for Esmeralda’s family.”

“It is already done. Her mother and grandmother arrived not long ago. They are tending to her now.”

“I want to see her.” Damien swiveled his legs over the side of the bed, pausing for a moment to gain his equilibrium.

“I know you’re concerned,” Serge said, grasping Damien’s arm tightly, “But you are in no condition to be up and walking around.” 

“I have to see her, Serge!” Damien said, grasping his brother’s shoulder. “Either help me or get the hell out of my way.”

With a shrug, Serge allowed Damien to lean on him as he fought against the lightheadedness that threatened to unman him at any moment. Serge helped him into a dressing gown and led him slowly from his room. Damien felt like an invalid and despised the fact that he had to lean on his brother for support. He cursed his weakness, but knew he would do whatever he must to see for himself that Esmeralda was all right.

Serge ushered him into her room, where they found Isabelle, Akira, and Raina clustered around her. Raina turned as they entered, her eyes filled with worry for her daughter. 

“She’s been asking about you,” she said, her voice at a near whisper. “We have tried to convince her to rest but she worries for you.”

“I am here,” he said, releasing Serge’s arm and limping over to the bed on his own. He squared his shoulders and fought the urge to scream out in pain. He would show the woman he loved no weakness. He approached her bedside
and breathed a sigh of relief.

Besides a few visible bruises, Esmeralda appeared to be fine. She lay among the bedcovers, dressed in a prim white nightgown that Damien guessed had been brought for her from home. The white ruffles around the neck and shoulders added a feminine appeal. She had been bathed, and her hair washed and brushed until it gleamed, fanned around her head against the pillow. Damien sat on the edge of the bed and grasped her hand tightly. A lump had worked his way up in his throat and he felt the unmistakable sting of tears behind his eyes. When had she become so important to him? He wondered at his own uncharacteristic display of emotion. The room was full of people who would see him if he allowed tears to fall from his eyes and he couldn’t care less. 

“I’m glad you’re all right,” she said, reaching up to cup his face gently. Damien lean his face against her open hand, grateful for a touch he had thought he’d never feel again. Yet here she was, warm and alive and here before him. He was so grateful.

“I see that you have been well taken care of,” he said. 

She nodded. “Your maids were very helpful. They had me cleaned up in no time.”

Akira stepped forward, pressing a small vial into Damien’s palm. “A few drops of this in your bathwater and you will feel as right as rain. It’ll take a few days but it’ll do you much good.” 

Damien smiled gratefully at the old woman. “Thanks.” He turned to Esmeralda. “You should rest. I will leave you now.”

She grasped his sleeve tightly. “No!” she exclaimed, desperation in her voice. “Please don’t go.”

Damien looked around the room. Serge, Raina, Akira, and Isabelle waited silently, each seeming unsure about whether to go or stay. “My dear, it would be highly improper.”

“Nonsense!” said Akira. “She is ill and needs comfort. Who better to give it to her?” 

Isabelle nodded. “We’ll leave strict orders not to let anyone into this room.”

Akira had already grasped Raina’s hand and was pulling her toward the door. Serge placed a hand at the small of Isabelle’s back and led her away as well. Damien turned back to Esmeralda, who had moved to the other side of the bed to make room for him. She turned down the covers invitingly and smiled. Damien groaned as if in pain and lowered himself to the mattress beside her.

“Are you all right?” she asked, stroking his hair as he lowered his head to her breast. “Are you in pain?”

“Damn right I’m in pain,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Here I’ve been dreaming of getting you into bed for weeks and when I finally do, I’m too weak to do anything about it!”

They laughed softly together and burrowed beneath the blankets. The comfort of the bed and the soft warmth of the body beside him created a drugging affect. Damien was soon sleeping peacefully. 

Chapter 13

The crowded ballroom was overrun with people in elaborate costume. Fairies and wood nymphs promenaded by on the arms of Shakespearian heroes and Greek gods. Damien searched the room impatiently for Esmeralda, trying to see past the masks of the various ladies walking
by
. He knew that an air of mystery was essential at a masquerade ball, but at the moment
,
he found it a damned nuisance. 

Damien
had sent the carriage for Esmeralda, since he had been unable to go and fetch her himself. He had spent the afternoon trying to soothe Lionus’ ire. Though he and Esmeralda had fully recovered from the incident with the carriage and the rest of the week had passed uneventfully, Damien found that his brother was uneasy as a caged beast. Lionus had paced about the library, questioning Rawlins for the third time, trying to squeeze every possible clue from his version of the story. And though Damien, Serge and Nicolai had worked endlessly to soothe Lionus’ temper, the feeling was not lost on them. Damien fully understood Lionus’ apprehension, especially since they had come no closer to identifying the masked man then they had been a few weeks ago.

Damien sighed, flexing his fingers tightly around the crystal glass he held in his hand. This last attempt would not have rattled him so much had it not involved Esmeralda. He’d been racked with guilt for days, knowing that if not for her association with him, such a thing would never have happened to her. He had been helpless to protect her, able to do nothing as the carriage had hurtled uncontrollably down the road.

Damien
knew she was doing well, as was he thanks to Akira’s potion. He had no idea what was in the small vial that the Gypsy woman had given him, but one drop in his bath water over the past couple of days had soothed his bruised and sore muscles. Now he stood as he hadn’t been able to in days, stronger than ever.

Nicolai appeared suddenly by his side, dressed in a green tunic and tights. A dagger was thrust through a belt at his waist and a green hat with a bright red plume sat at a jaunty angle on his head. A green mask covered his eyes and nose. Damien doubled over with laughter. “And who, pray tell, are you supposed to be? A woodland sprite?”

“I will have you know, dear cousin, that I am Peter Pan,” said Nicolai, humor twinkling in his eyes. He bowed before Damien, sweeping his hat from his head as he did so. “And for your information, the ladies find it charming.”

“Just be careful not to rip those hose of yours!” Damien guffawed, clapping Nicolai on his shoulder. 

“I’ve another pair ready in case that happens,” Nicolai whispered with a wink.

Damien procured another glass of brandy from a passing servant
.
Nicolai did the same.  “Davina’s looking well,” Nicolai gestured toward a figure in blue with his glass. “It would seem being tossed over by you can do wonders for a woman.”