Christmas at Draycott Abbey Read Free

She was badly cut up and delirious, panicked and half frozen. She still hasn’t come around.”
    “Identity?”
    “Not a clue. No handbag. No wallet. No phone or identification. Beyond odd, I thought.”
    “Damned right it’s odd. Can you send me a photograph? I’ll check on some files here and see what I can pull up.” A chair creaked. “Any signs of trauma? How’s her pulse?”
    “Erratic. I just got her inside and I haven’t had time to—hell.” Ian stared down at the blood seeping along her neck. When he lifted back her hair, he had seen the outline of a deep and jagged wound just above her right eye. “She’s got head trauma. The wound is narrow but deep. I can see the bone.” Ian gently lifted one eyelid. Her pupils did not respond.
    “No eye response, Teague. She might have hit her heard. Or possibly a bullet has grazed her. Should I take her to the hospital in Hastings?”
    “ Don’t move her. She may have neck or spinal injuries. I’m wrapping up here, and I should be there within an hour. Call me if her condition changes.” Izzy muttered under his breath. Ian heard the tapping of the keys. “I don’t want to call Nicholas about this yet. This is the first vacation that he and Kacey and their daughter have had in six years. As long as she remains unconscious and stable, we’ll handle it between us. I’ll bring my medical kit.”
    It was exactly what Ian had hoped to hear. Nicholas Draycott, the Viscount Draycott, was an old friend of Ian’s. Nicholas had been through his own personal traumas following months of captivity in Asia. He had finally found happiness with an American visitor to the abbey, although their busy lives left them little time for relaxation. Ian didn’t want to jeopardize his friend’s first real vacation in years. “Understood. I’ll send those photos to you immediately. Should I use the same e-mail address?”
    Ian heard more tapping at a keyboard. Teague’s security skills were legendary. There was no better person to watch your back in a firefight than Izzy Teague. “Until we know what we’re dealing with, I’d prefer fewer people to have access.” Izzy rattled off a string of meaningless numbers and letters. “Use that address. Send me whatever you have.” The line went dead.
    Ian didn’t like the idea of waiting an hour for a medical assessment, but he knew that Izzy’s training in field medicine was superb. As long as his intruder remained calm and stable, Ian would wait.
    But his questions lingered. Who in the hell was she? Why had she been running in the rain across the abbey grounds, in bare feet and nothing but a thin cotton dress?
    She muttered brokenly in her sleep. Her bruised hands tightened on the blanket and tried to tear it free.
    “It’s going to be fine. You’re safe here with me,” Ian whispered. The words seemed to well up from some deep part of his memory, coupled with that odd sense of protectiveness. He had the strange feeling that she was important to him—or that she had once been so. Though it made no sense at all, though they were complete strangers, Ian’s urge to protect this woman was raw and overwhelming.
    He stood stiffly, studying the pale, chiseled features marked with cuts. Every instinct whispered for him to trust her, and yet trust was a luxury he could never afford. In his job, everyone was a suspect. Every movement was a threat. A woman with a slim body and long legs like this would tempt any sane man to throw away reason and caution.
    But for him, trust was not an option.
    So Ian closed down his instincts and hardened his heart. Until he had more information, she was just another intruder in the night. He had to remember that.

     
    Beyond the sheeting rain, beyond the old casement windows, a light glinted through the deserted abbey. First it flickered out. Then slowly it climbed and began to move. Gathering strength, it crossed the staircase and found the Long Gallery, with its rows of priceless portraits.