Page 105 of A Figure of Love

She closed her eyes against the horror of her thoughts but that just created new, more insidious images: Oliver, trapped and alone; Gareth in the dark, his eyes burning with unspeakable despair. The thought that he’d gone into his very worst nightmare for her son made her love him even more—which she hadn’t thought possible.

Serena bowed her head and prayed. Oh, God, please don’t let anything happen to either—

“Oww!” A not insubstantial rock bounced off her dark bonnet and landed beside her.

“Hello?”

For a moment she thought the rock had jarred her son’s voice loose in her head. And then she spun around and onto her knees, pressing her forehead against the cool, rough stone.

“Oliver?” She sounded utterly unlike herself.

“Mama!”

She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear landed on her clenched fist. She gulped in air. “Is—” her voice cracked and she tried again, “Is Mr. Lockheart there?”

A muffled but precise voice came through the tiny gap in the stone. “I’m here, Serena. All is well, except for your cousin, Mr. Bardot, who I’m afraid was caught in the collapse.”

Tears flowed freely now. “Oh, thank God! Thank God!”

∞∞∞

Squeezing one’s voice through a gap is one thing. Squeezing a boy and full-sized man through was quite another.

The two footmen arrived and began to remove the carefully placed rocks. Some of them, like the one Gareth and Oliver had managed to displace, were quite small. But many were more than even two big men could lift.

With the threat of Bardot gone, Serena ran back to the house to enlist more help. It was not until several hours later, when both captives had been freed, that anyone remembered Declan McElroy.

By then, Oliver had been welcomed back into the crushing—but not scolding—arms of his mother and Nounou. He was then thoroughly bathed, dried, fed, and ensconced in a warm bed. For once, he fell asleep before Nounou could complain about the light.

“He is exhausted,” Nounou said, motioning for Serena to leave her vigil beside his bed. She had not left her son’s side since pulling him from the hole in the cave. “Come, it is time you bathe and eat.”

Serena closed the door with regret.

“I have just had a bath sent to your room.”

Serena nodded. “Has the doctor been to see Mr. Lockheart?”

“Been and gone some hours ago. He will be fine and walk as normal in only a few days.”

“Thank you, Nounou.”

The French woman gave her a knowing look and snorted. “You look terrible. Go and bathe and put cucumber on your eyes. You won’t wish him to see you this way.”

Serena laughed. “For your information, he has already asked me to marry him, Nounou.”

“Ha! He might change his mind if he were to see you now.”

When Serena arrived in her room and had a look in her mirror she had to admit the older woman might have a point.

She would hurry and clean herself and then go and call on Gareth, no matter how scandalous such behavior might be. But when she lay in the steaming warmth of the tub, a powerful lassitude crept into her body. She would close her eyes. Only for a moment.

∞∞∞

Gareth didn’t care that the maid had squeaked and then scuttled through the still open doorway when strode into Serena’s room.

She was not in bed and her sitting room was dark. “Serena?” he called, limping through her dressing room toward her bathing chamber. His breath caught in his raw throat at what he found.

She was asleep in her bath. Her hair had been washed and lay over the high tub back, puddled on the floor like chestnut-gold foam. Her arms floated by her sides and her full breasts rose above the water line, their nipples hard. Her body was covered in goose pimples, telling him the water had long cooled.