“My brother will have you disposed of if Benjamin Cooke doesn’t get to you first. I doubt you’ll leave New York alive.” At Harold’s look of surprise, Leo laughed, though it hurt dreadfully, and it forced water up around his nostrils. Why couldn’t he have bled to death in the snow? That was honorable. Instead, he’d sink into the muck, just as he almost had when he was ten.
“Good luck, Masterson. Oh...” Another cough wracked his body. “I forgot to mention you can’t be declared Daniel’s guardian. Benjamin Cooke already is. He has papers. Duly witnessed in both England and New York.”
Harold made a sound like a wounded animal before he fell strangely, eerily silent. “You won’t be around, at any rate. One less bastard gambling hell owner in the world. I wonder if you’ll drown or bleed to death first.”
“Neither.” Georgina’s voice came from behind Harold, a thick branch clenched in both hands. She swung with all her might at his head. “You mad, vile prick.”
Harold’s skull made a horrible sound as the branch made contact, then he fell to the snow face down, groaning, trying to reach for the pistol where it had landed just beyond his outstretched fingers.
Georgina swung twice more with such viciousness, had Leo not been dying, he would have been aroused.
That’s my girl.
Then the dark water took him.
27
Damnit hurt to move.
But he wasn’t in the dirty, cold water anymore. He was dry. Warm. Pain throbbed over the right side of his body. There was a thick pad of cotton over his ribs. The pad itched. He tried to pull at it with his fingers.
“Don’t, Leo. Stay still.” Cool fingers smoothed back the hair from his forehead and pressed a kiss to his temple.
He managed to get one eye open, though it was a struggle.
Georgie.
Worry etched her lovely features as her face hovered above him. He forced his other eye open.
I thought I died in the pond.
Georgina brandishing a thick piece of wood at Harold. The sickening sounds as she’d hit him over and over until she was sobbing. The splash of the water as she’d struggled to drag him from the pond.
He glanced behind her. Pale yellow walls with wood paneling along the bottom. A wide window with a view of the woods and a delicately upholstered seat beneath it. There was a blanket there and a pillow.
“Where am I?” It hurt to talk; his voice was rough, as if he hadn’t spoken for some time. “Am I dead?”
She stroked his cheek. It felt so good, he didn’t want her to stop. The deep brown of her eyes filled with tears. “No.” Her fingers on him trembled. “You are in one of Lilian’s guest rooms.”
“Daniel.” He tried to move again. “Daniel.” He repeated the name of the son he had yet to meet.
“He’s fine.” Tears fell from her eyes, landing on the blanket covering him. “But you must stay still. Your stitches could pull free.” She started to rise from the bed, but she was halted by his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “Stay, Georgie. You keep running away from me.” The pain radiated across his chest.
“I’m only going to get you some water. Aren’t you thirsty?” She pointed to a pitcher. “I’m not leaving.”
He grunted, watching her with greedy eyes as she moved across the room to a pitcher of water and poured him a glass. Her hips swayed gently beneath her skirts, tempting Leo even though he felt weighed down as if by heavy stones. It hurt to move even a little.
“You’re my person,” he rasped as she tilted a glass of water to his lips, and he drank. “Myperson.” She didn’t understand. It was much more profound than just loving her. She needed to listen.
“I know, Leo.” She pulled back. “You’re my person as well. Now close your eyes and rest.”
“Stay.” He fumbled about for her hand and felt her cool fingers lace with his.
“I will.” She kissed him. “Now sleep.”
* * *
When Leo next awoke,it was to see a pair of eyes nearly identical to his own staring back at him. A small hand grabbed at his chin, pulling at the beard lining his jaw before sharply sliding away.
