The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [110]
He would have to take Olivia back to the Day Dream, get her safely aboard, then return for Rupert’s body.
The boat slid like a ghost through the water, and the stream bent slightly to the right again. A second later, they nosed onto the beach. Quin clambered to shore, made the boat fast, and turned to help Olivia and Lucy.
He held her for a moment. “I don’t want you here,” he whispered.
“Let’s go,” she said, her voice brushing his ear.
He took her hand. It was hell to care about someone. How could he have forgotten that? He used to worry about Alfie every time he was ill. Anxiety was tiresome.
They climbed up the bank and veered to the left. In his mind’s eye, he followed Grooper’s finger on the map, translating map distances into steps. If there were ever a situation in which his mathematical skill was useful, this was it.
They moved silently forward, feeling their way as much as seeing it; after a time the dark exterior wall of a hut loomed precisely where it should be. Quin put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder and tightened it in a silent message. She nodded, her eyes huge in the moonlight.
He followed the wall of the hut, turned the corner, and pushed gently on the door. Inside there was a faint brush of movement; instantly he whispered, “God save the King.”
The door swung inwards. Quin walked into total darkness, and waited until the door shut behind him. Then a dark lantern slid open. Its wavering flame illuminated the faces of two drawn and exhausted English soldiers.
“Thank God you’ve come,” one of them breathed.
“He lives?”
A jerky nod of the head. “Barely.”
“Your names?”
“Togs.” Another jerk of his head. “That’s Paisley.”
Quin nodded at the lantern. They shut it again and he slipped out, returning with Olivia, her hand warm in his.
When the lantern was opened once more, its light shone on the clear planes of her face, the glowing strands of hair escaping from under her hood, the generous line of her lower lip.
“Lucy!” Togs gasped. There was a wealth of meaning in his voice. They thought she was worth risking their lives for. Quin could see it in both men’s eyes. A silent growl rose in his throat, startling him.
Olivia shook her head, unloosed her cape, and put Rupert’s little dog on the floor. She smiled at the bewildered faces and pointed. “This is Lucy.”
“The marquess?” Quin asked. He had stopped thinking about corpses and was now desperately calculating how to get both Olivia and a grievously injured Rupert back in that tiny rowboat. His remaining behind was out of the question; Olivia couldn’t row far enough to reach the Day Dream. He would have to take one, then return for the other—which meant that he would have to leave one temporarily behind.
Togs shook his head and drew back a rough curtain in the corner, revealing a slight figure lying on a thin mattress on the floor.
Olivia rushed over and fell to her knees. Lucy was already there, nosing her master’s cheek, her thin tail wagging madly.
She picked up Rupert’s hand. It was odd to realize only now that his fingers were long and delicate. They weren’t like Quin’s powerful grip, but they were beautiful in their own way.
She leaned close and said, “Rupert!” He didn’t stir.
Lucy pressed close to Olivia, trembling, and then she suddenly took a little hop and landed on Rupert’s chest. Olivia reached out to remove her, but the dog was licking his cheek, his nose, his eyelids. Instead Olivia said, low and urgent, “Rupert, I’ve brought Lucy to you. It’s Lucy.”
His eyelids trembled.
She rubbed his hand faster and glanced over her shoulder at Quin. “He’s waking!” she mouthed.
Lucy was still licking Rupert, her warm tongue bathing his cheek, his ear. He opened his mouth and rasped one word. “Lucy.”
Olivia bent even closer. “Rupert, it’s Olivia. Lucy and I have come to take you back home.”
For a second he said nothing. Then his eyes slowly focused on Lucy’s brown pointed nose and shining eyes.