In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 33

Charlie was exhausted.

And yet, no matter how much she was needled to rest by Greyson's mother and sister- Charlie rolled her eyes at that, her own ignorance and jealousy of Lady Georgianna bringing an unwelcome heat to her cheeks - Charlie found that she could not.

The past two days had left her shaken, and Charlie was sure that if she left Greysons's side for but a moment, the fever would sink its claws deeper into the earl's flesh and never release him.

It would take him away from her.

The days had passed in a jumble, but one seemed ingrained on her mind. That evening in the stables seemed just like yesterday.

It haunted her.

That night, as Greyson had bled profusely, his skin ashen, Charlie had lifted her head from his chest only to find Thorne, Greyson's friend, by her side. She didn't object when Thorne gently pushed her off Greyson's chest, his own hand covering Greyson's side, trying his best to staunch the flow of blood.

Charlie had watched, numb, her body weak from her tears, her throat scratchy and hoarse as it dragged air slowly back into her lungs.

"Are you alright, Charlie?"

Thorne's voice was deep and abrupt, the force of it bringing Charlie's eyes to his. She must have nodded for Thorne's attention returned to Greyson, his eyes grim.

Thorne had issued orders like a sergeant as his hazel eyes took in Charlie's undressed state. Calling to Williams, Thorne urged him to grab a blanket. The stable master had done the lord's bidding, covering her with the scratchy wool while saying prayers beneath his breath.

Charlie had barely noticed the warmth of the cloth about her shoulders, her eyes trained to Greyson's still form as tears blurred her vision. She cursed herself for putting Greyson in a position where he had been hurt. It had been her stubbornness at fault.

Thorne had half-lifted, half-carried Greyson inside commanding the awaiting servants to ring for the doctor.

Charlie vaguely noticed Greyson's mother and Lady Georgianna standing sentinel in the doorway to the manor, both wrapped in their thin nightgowns as they turned, shuffling behind Thorne and Charlie. Their questions peppered Charlie's back, but she left them unanswered, guilt and shock warring equally within her.

She felt numb, wondering if she had imagined the whole thing, for surely nothing like this could happen to the earl. He was untouchable.

Charlie had finally snapped from her panic as Thorne settled Greyson onto his bed, the massive bedchamber decorated in dark blues and accents of light grey.

Charlie shook off the memories, squeezing Greyson's hand in her left while her right touched the cool skin of his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come on, Greyson," she whispered, bringing their interlocked hands to her cheek. "Wake up."

When he didn't stir, Charlie breathed out a sigh, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand absently. At least the doctor had been correct in this, that the fever wouldn't last long. Charlie snorted, rolling her eyes as she thought about the quack of a doctor.

Roberts had shuffled in almost a full hour after the attack that evening, his black bag clutched in his one hand as he clucked, coming to a stop next to Greyson's unconscious form. He had looked about the room, his gaze falling on Lady Marianne by the head of the bed. His light eyes flickered over Lady Georgianna, briefly stopping on her left, ruined cheek, before clearing his throat and glancing at Thorne. Greyson's friend took a position catty corner from the ladies, hovering beside the doctor as his hazel eyes scanned the doctor's bag and its assortment of tools and instruments.