She heard a woman’s loud, piercing scream, then realised she was the one crying out for the men to stop.
As quickly as it began it was over. Patrick and his friends limped off, blood on their faces, bruising and swelling already starting to appear.
But they had got off easy compared to Mr Lockhart. He was lying immobile on the ground, his face bloodied and bruised, his lip split, his clothes torn.
The ground seemed to move under Nellie’s feet and she collapsed down beside him. This was all her fault. Unlike herself, Mr Lockhart had done nothing wrong. All he had done was try to engage her services for his sister, then defend her from the unwanted attentions of a drunken fool. And the poor man had paid a terrible price for that gallantry.
Chapter Six
‘Are you all right?’ Nellie asked, clambering to her feet.
He looked up at her, one eye already starting to swell shut, as if to say of course he wasn’t all right, far from it.
‘Here, let me help you up. We need to get you off the street.’ She reached down and put her hands under his arms to haul him to his feet. He was now vulnerable. A man as wealthy as him, in his condition, would be easy prey for those who wanted to make some quick money by robbing a defenceless person.
‘Leave me. I am all right,’ he murmured as he pushed her hands away. He tried to stand by himself and fell back, his face contorted with agony.
‘No, you’re not and you’ll be in an even worse condition if I don’t get you off the street.’ Nellie looked around. Thankfully the street was deserted. They were safe for now. ‘Some of the people who live in this neighbourhood are right scavengers. They can smell blood and they’ll be in for the kill, after anything they can get their hands on to pawn for a few shillings, even the clothes off your back.’
She crouched down lower, edged her shoulder under his arm and levered him to his feet. He emitted a low groan, causing Nellie to wince, but there was nothing she could do to ease his pain now. She had to concentrate on getting him off the street as quickly as possible.
‘Just don’t pass out on me, will you?’ She started to move forward, slowly. ‘I can’t carry you, that’s for sure.’
‘I won’t,’ he said, but his staggering gait suggested he was close to doing just that.
Straining under his weight, Nellie made her clumsy, stumbling way down the road. Her progress wasn’t helped by the disconcerting experience of having him so close. With his arm heavy on her shoulder, his warm body pressed against her, it was impossible to ignore the strength of the man, the powerful muscles in his shoulders and arms, and the hard wall that was his chest. Through the metallic smell of blood, she could still detect the clean, fresh scent of sandalwood from his cologne and a deeper, underlying musky scent that was all male.
Was it that scent, or his body warm against her, or the weight of him on her shoulder that was making Nellie weak? Whatever it was, she’d do well to get over it immediately and keep moving. She had to get him to safety and quickly.
She stumbled a few more steps, then paused to catch her breath, her hand braced against the brick wall as she tried to balance herself. She could not let him fall. She doubted she had the strength to get him to his feet one more time. Taking another deep breath, she forced herself to continue. As they turned the corner, pleasure surged through her at the sight of her home, although for once it wasn’t pride that filled her heart, but the knowledge that they would soon be safe.
The sight of the shop sign giving her renewed strength, she stumbled the last few paces down the street. Wedging him against the wall, she unlocked the door, then foisted him back on to her shoulder and entered the building, locking the door behind her. At the bottom of the stairs she paused and looked up. They stretched out before her like a formidable mountain. They had never looked so high nor so steep. But she had no choice, she had to get him up to her room where he could lie down, even if she broke her back in the process.
‘I can do this,’ he murmured and gripped the banister. His bloodied hand slid off. He staggered back a step, righted himself and paused to drag in a series of strained breaths.
‘No, you can’t. Now do as you’re told and put your weight on me.’
‘I can do this. Just give me some time,’ he mumbled, grabbing the banister again.
She glared back at him, her hands on her hips. ‘If you don’t do as you’re told, you’ll fall and I won’t be able to move you. Now stop being a fool and put your weight back on me.’
He drew in a deep breath, coughed and winced with pain.
‘Well? Are you going to do as you’re told?’
He nodded and put his arm around her shoulder. ‘You’re very bossy, you know,’ he mumbled.
Despite their predicament Nellie smiled. Bossy, he’d called her. He didn’t know the half of it. In fits and jerks, they made their way slowly upwards, their feet scuffing on the bare wooden stairs. Nellie was forced to pause at each step to get her breath and, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, they made it to the landing. Now they were on a flat area it felt slightly easier, but his weight was still pressed down on her, causing her to crouch lower and lower. Stumbling the last few steps, they made it to the bed.
