Meant to Bea

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"He's on the run."

Bianca touched Race's hand that laid unmoving on the bed, her eyes fixed on his pale face.

"The manhunt should return with something, but there's no guarantee." The constable continued, his words barely registering in her mind. She cared nothing for Lord Wilson, or his decision to flee after nearly killing her husband, all she cared about was Race's eyelids tearing apart. All she cared about was him standing up from this bed and coming home with her.

Tears easily slipped down her cheek. The very thought of losing him, threatened to kill her. It had knocked her unconscious for several minutes, and when she finally woke up, it had driven her right out the doors, demanding a carriage to take her to her husband. She wouldn't listen to Camden, no matter how hard he tried to convince her to wait until the next morning. She was desperate to be by his side.

Yet, here she stood staring at an unfamiliar version of what was supposed to be her husband -his once tan skin was now completely white, his rosy lips ashen, his once vibrant smile gone, and his blue eyes were concealed by his closed eyelids, forcing her to fear the possibility of never seeing them again.

"Very well," Camden spoke. "Once he is caught, do let me know."

"Of course."

Moving her hand slightly, she wrapped it around Race's cold hand, and listened to Camden bid the constable farewell.

"Are you alright?" His footsteps sounded behind her. Pausing beside her, he touched her shoulder.

Letting out a soft sigh, she raised her eyes slowly to him and shook her head.

He nodded. "I shall not dare suggest that you leave his side, for I know you shall pay me no mind. But it is the middle of the night, and I have instructed the servants to make you supper. Bea told me you have eaten nothing all day. So, I'm afraid I must insist you eat."

A frown immediately claimed Bianca's face; the last thing she wanted to do, was eat. Her stomach was a mess, and certainly incapable of welcoming food.

Camden rose a brow. "Unless of course, you would have me insist you leave his side for tonight?"

Knowing leaving Race for even a second, was not an option, she nodded to his demands -she would indeed force some food down her throat.

"Do not think too much of it, the physician has assured me he shall be just fine. If those people in the tavern hadn't intervened when they did, it might have been worse. But they did, and he will be fine."

"Of course," She managed through trembling lips, nodding. "Thank you, my lord."

Camden leaned down suddenly, pulling her into his arms. It was unexpected, but Bianca realized in that second, that she desperately needed to be held by someone to keep from falling apart.

The hug ended as quickly as it had began, and with one final nod, he left her presence, leaving her alone with Race.

Turning her attention back to Race, she placed herself on the edge of the bed and took his hand in hers once more.

"Forgive me," Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "It is all my fault this is happening." Tightening her hold on him, she squeezed his hand, hoping he would feel it and wake up -he didn't. He instead laid there, unmoving, the only sign of life being the steady rising and falling of his chest.

Her eyes shifted slowly to his left shoulder, where the bullet had been lodged. The surgeon had taken it out hours before she arrived Camden's home in London, but the sight of the wound still made her shiver slightly. Her eyes trailed his chest, to his stomach on the left side as well, where another bullet had made its home.