He gripped the back of his neck and spun around. Only trees. Only the lonely, deserted street. The scent of cold ground and green foliage swelled around him and it was then another alarming realization struck his mind. His blood pumped at such a rate he felt nothing but heat, but Kitty would be dangerously chilled if she was in fact still out of doors. The memory of her stomping into the night without her cloak censured him once more and his worry climbed another rung.
He picked up his pace to a dead run. “Kitty? Kitty!”
Suddenly he stopped.
He didn’t want to pass her by. Perhaps she was injured and unable to respond? His breathing raced. For this, he would need to check his pace and though his legs demanded speed, his mind commanded temperance.
Nathaniel kept his speed in check, scrutinizing every sound, every shadow.
As he neared the small clearing where the magazine rested, a rounded shadow near the trees snatched his gaze and he stopped. His muscles burned and his eyes strained against the blackness.
“Kitty!”
Racing toward the figure, his worst fears pummeled him like the fists of a trained fighter. He skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees beside her, instantly assessing her condition. She sat against a tree, hugging her knees against her chest, staring ahead, her entire body trembling as she rocked lightly forward and back as if he were nothing more than a shadow.
“Kitty, are you all right? What happened?” He touched her elbow and cringed. Her skin was far too cold. He flung off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Kitty, look at me.”
She didn’t answer, wouldn’t even turn her head. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He gripped her shoulders and dipped his head to meet the direction of her gaze.
Slowly she turned to him. Her pained eyes blinked as the realization of his presence seemed to trickle over her. “Nathaniel?” The pale light showed little of her expression, but the small whimper that squeaked from her quivering frame nearly undid him. “Nathaniel, I...” She covered her face with one hand and exhaled through tight lips, attempting to calm her quaking voice. Pressing off the ground she struggled to stand. “Forgive me... I am well, I simply—”
“You are not well.” With a hand to her shoulder, he kept her seated and scanned right to left, hoping a spot of moonlit ground would offer some relief from the dark, but she already sat in the most lighted plot. He chewed a curse. His blood surged as anguish and anger made ready allies and prepared to fight for her welfare.
He focused on her face and clamped his teeth. She was not without wound as he had hoped she might be, as evidenced by the shimmer of blood that trickled from her nose. Rage nearly suffocated him. Was that all she suffered? Had she internal injuries? Emotional ones?
Careful to keep his touch appropriate lest she flinch under his examination, he felt down her head and neck, and smoothed her arms to assure him no bones were asunder. His pulse charged faster. He needed to get her home and in enough light to allow him to properly care for her and assure himself her wounds were superficial.
He snatched a handkerchief from his pocket and gently held it to her nose. “Hold this.”
Kitty took the offering, yet remained still but for the unending tremors her body refused to quiet and the breath that revealed any moment she might succumb to tears. He glanced around, scanning the clearing for any movement should the attacker still linger in the shadows, but he saw nothing. He turned back to her and met her anguished gaze. Kitty was not a female who submitted to fits of crying over even a slight disturbance. He
struggled to keep hold of his emotions that edged dangerously toward the precipice of panic.
“What happened? Who did this to you?” He gripped harder to her shoulders, attempting to pry a response from her sealed lips while his mind scattered in all directions, desperate for answers. Her round eyes blinked, and her quiet, heaving breaths came in quick erratic bursts.
She shook her head and struggled to stand once again. “I must get home.”
He gripped her around the waist to assist her, but she pressed him away. “I am well, Nathaniel.”
This is madness! He scooped her small frame in his arms. “I will not have you walk.”
Without protest she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him as he hurried toward the Watson home. Holding her against him, his heart burst with every hurried step. Kitty held tighter, gripping the collar of his jacket. She pressed her face into his neck, her heated breath on his skin burning him with regret. He should never have let her leave the party alone.
He quickened his step. It was then her warm tears trickled down his neck and the restraint he’d maintained nearly burst through the bulwarks with which it was bound. A vile remembrance of many months past clouded his memory and he shuddered. If someone had taken advantage of Kitty as had nearly happened to Eliza...
Once at the house, Nathaniel kicked the door open. “Eliza! I’ve found her!”
Rushing in from the kitchen, Eliza covered her mouth to muffle a scream. “Dear Lord, what happened?”
“I don’t know.” He started up the stairs, scaling them two-by-two. “I need a bucket of water and clean cloths.”
“Right away.”
Taking Kitty into the second bedchamber, Nathaniel eased her on the bed and immediately lit an oil lamp.
“You needn’t worry over me so.” Kitty’s tight voice tapped the air and he spun around to see her lean her head against the headboard, eyes squinting as if trying to bear the pain of her injuries.
He almost gave in to irritation and scolded her for such words, but in the light of the lamp her wounds revealed their grim state and he stalled. Her hair was undone with bits of leaves and a dusting of dirt. A long red mark across her jaw crossed paths with several more dirt smudges and a small trail of blood still trickled from her delicate nose.