Nicholas materialized from the darkness like vengeance given form, three footmen flanking him in precise formation.
His face carved itself from winter stone as he took in the blood-soaked tableau—Nathaniel sagging between us, my gloves crimson to the wrists, Maeve still gripping her brass weapon.
And she didn't give up, holding Nathaniel with her other hand when I couldn't anymore.
"My lady." No questions, just immediate assessment. "You're injured?"
"Not our blood." I stepped back as the footmen converged. "Something tore him apart. Beast of some kind—the wounds are too savage for a blade."
"Take him." Nicholas's commands snapped like breaking bones. "Careful with the chest wounds. James, Matthew—carry him to the servants' quarters. Tom, sprint for Dr. Morrison. Tell him to bring his full surgical kit, laudanum, and enough silk thread to stitch a shroud. William, hot water and clean linen to Crowe's chamber. Now."
The footmen moved with militant precision, lifting Nathaniel between them. His head lolled back, throat exposed and vulnerable. Blood dripped steady percussion on frozen gravel.
"Should we not take him to the main house?" Maeve asked. "Better facilities—"
"The servants' wing has everything needed." Nicholas's tone brooked no argument. "Less disruption to the celebration. Her ladyship need not have her announcement overshadowed by... unpleasantness."
"See it done." I forced authority into my voice despite the tremor. "Whatever he needs."
"Of course, my lady." Nicholas turned his surgical gaze on us. "You're certain neither of you sustained injury?"
"We found him already savaged." Maeve lowered the candelabrum, brass sticky with transferred blood. "Whatever did this was gone before we arrived."
"Or sated," Nicholas murmured, then louder: "I'll have the grounds searched immediately."
Movement erupted behind us—swift, purposeful, carrying barely leashed violence. Alistair burst from the archway, his evening jacket billowing like wings. His gaze swept the scene and locked on me with laser focus.
He crossed the distance in three strides, hands finding me before words could form.
One palm pressed flat against my belly through silk and wool, checking the child. The other arm wrapped my shoulders, pulling me against his chest with desperate strength.
"Are you harmed?" His voice came out raw. "Either of you?"
"We're safe." I leaned into his solid presence, letting his certainty anchor me. "We found Nathaniel bleeding out."
"You ran toward danger." Not accusation—statement of fact laced with fear. "Pregnant, in darkness, toward an unknown threat."
"Someone was dying."
"Someone who isn't you. Who isn't ours." His hand pressed harder against where our child grew. "Christ, Helena, when I heard you'd vanished into the night—"
"I had help." I gestured to Maeve, who still stood battle-ready with her improvised weapon. "May I present Lady Maeve Carrow. The woman who armed herself with a candelabrum rather than cower."
Alistair released me enough to bow properly. "Lady Carrow. I owe you a debt for protecting my wife."
"Your wife protected herself." Maeve's smile held edges. "I merely provided backup and blunt force trauma potential."
"The scholar who supplied Helena with those fascinating texts about nocturnal ailments?" His tone shifted to something almost warm. "Your research has been... invaluable."
"Helena mentioned you found them useful." Maeve's eyes sparkled with unspoken knowledge. "I'm pleased they helped."
"Indeed." Alistair's mouth quirked. "My wife speaks highly of your intelligence. I see she didn't exaggerate."
"Your wife is brilliant enough to seek knowledge wherever it lurks." Maeve shot me a conspiratorial look. "Even in libraries' forbidden corners with disreputable women who refuse marriage proposals."
"The best knowledge usually comes from disreputable sources." Alistair's laugh held genuine warmth. "Respectability rarely produces innovation."
"I'll ensure my parents never hear you say that." Maeve's grin turned wicked. "They're convinced Helena will teach me to be a proper lady."
"God forbid." I managed a smile despite the blood still tacky on my gloves. "One proper lady per castle is already too many."
"Ladies, you should return to the celebration." Alistair's tone shifted to command. "The guests are starting to notice the disruption. Questions are being asked."
"What about Nathaniel?" The words escaped before wisdom could stop them.
Alistair's expression flickered—something dark crossing his features before control reasserted. "I'll oversee his care personally."
Ice shot through my veins. "Alistair—"
"I'll ensure the physician arrives and treatment begins." His voice carried careful precision. "Nothing more."
"He's lost so much blood." I couldn't keep the fear from leaking through. "You've been unwell yourself recently. Perhaps Nicholas should—"
"I'm perfectly capable of ensuring my employee receives care." Alistair's tone carried careful control. "I'll confirm the physician arrives and treatment begins. Nothing more."
"The sight of such wounds—" I struggled for words that wouldn't betray too much. "Your constitution has been delicate."
"Which is why I'll maintain appropriate distance." He cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Helena, I know my limits."
Maeve watched our exchange with sharp intelligence, cataloging every weighted pause.
"If Nathaniel wakes—" I began.
"Then he'll see his employer ensuring his survival." Alistair's jaw set. "I won't have his death on Blackwood land. Not tonight."
The weight of what he could say, but didn’t, crashed over me.
"Come." Maeve took my arm with surprising gentleness. "Let's return before your mother-in-law sends a search party. The servants are already whispering about our dramatic exit."
"She's right." Alistair pressed his lips to my forehead, the gesture achingly tender. "Go. Smile. Deflect. Tell them a fox got into the coops if you must. I'll handle this."
"Alistair—"
"Trust me." His gray eyes held mine. "Nicholas will assist. We'll see him treated properly."
I let Maeve guide me back toward the blazing castle, each step feeling like abandonment. Behind us, Alistair's voice carried on winter wind, issuing orders with lordly authority.
"Your husband seems genuinely concerned," Maeve observed as we reached the doors.
"Yes. That's Alistair." I forced brightness into my voice. "Duty before everything else. Always."