door.
The knob wouldn’t turn. Oh, Jesus, I thought, jerking on it, twisting it, my
fingers trembling and white with the strain. I didn’t remember locking the door,
but I could have. I just didn’t remember. I jerked on the knob, then turned the
key that was in the lock. George was barking madly, and I turned to see the old
woman running now toward me, her gait jerky, awkward, but she was coming fast.
The key turned, and the knob finally twisted beneath my fingers. I jerked the
door open and nearly fell into the corridor.
So I had locked the door. How had the creature gotten into my room?
I didn’t look back, just ran as fast as I could, George pinned to my side. I
wasn’t about to let him go after that creature.
I managed to keep my balance. I ran as fast as I had ever run in my life, down
that long corridor, not thinking, just finally coming to a panicked stop in
front of a bedchamber door. I knew who was behind that door, knew that I had run
specifically to this bedchamber. I pounded my fists against the aged oak.
I heard a man’s muffled voice from inside. I kept pounding, pounding, and George
kept barking his head off. I was grateful that he was making all that noise. It
had to give that creature second thoughts about coming after me.
Even as I pounded on that door, I looked back. I didn’t see anything, but it
didn’t make my heart slow at all.
Finally, it seemed at least a century had passed, the door flew open and there
was John, a pair of breeches pulled quickly on, and wearing nothing else.
It wouldn’t have mattered if he was in his bathtub. I threw myself at him.
George realized who it was and went berserk.
John managed to keep his balance at the shock of my weight hurled against him. “Andy,
for God’s sake, what’s going on? What’s wrong? George, be quiet!” There was only
one way to quiet George, and that was to pick him up. So John did, just jerked
him away from my nearly locked-down right arm. He had George in one arm and the
other around me.
I was breathing so hard and so fast I couldn’t speak. I just stood there,
leaning against a man I feared all the way to my bones, and I didn’t want to
move, just feel him there, warm and hard and strong, holding George and holding
me and knowing we were both safe.
“It’s all right,” he said, his voice soft and deep now, warm against my hair. “Everything
will be fine. George, that’s right, just lick my arm and my shoulder, lick as
far as that little tongue of yours will reach. Andy, do you have your breath yet?
Can you tell me what happened?”
“Almost,” I said, my breath hot against his shoulder. “Not yet, but almost.”
“Just keep breathing, calm deep breaths? that’s it.” He just held me and George,
standing calm and steady. I had never in my life been so grateful as I was in
that moment that this man was here and he was so close I could feel his heart
beating against me.
“Now, when you’re able, tell me what happened. Did something happen to George?”
I felt his big hand splayed over my back. He covered a lot of me. I felt the
heat of his hand through my linen nightgown. I felt the heat of him through the
front of my nightgown as well. It felt wonderful. I felt alive. I felt safe.
I was counting his heartbeats, feeling them deep inside myself. Solid and warm
and ever so steady, those heartbeats of his. I could breathe now. I didn’t want
to, but I pulled back, just a bit. I didn’t want to lose the heat of him, or I
simply knew I’d just freeze up and shatter onto the floor.
“I’m all right, yes, really, I am now all right.”
“There is no fire in your bedchamber?”
“No fire.”
“The armoire didn’t fall over?”
“The armoire didn’t move.”
“No bats came flying through the windows?”