Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

LIZZIE

C rimson blood splattered across my bodice and exposed neck.

Horrified, I stared wide-eyed at Richard's shocked face.

My gaze followed his to the bullet wound in the center of his chest.

My mouth opened on a bloodcurdling scream as I watched Richard slowly sink to his knees.

"No!" I raged as I fell to my knees by his side.

Despite his bullet wound, Richard grabbed me and shoved me to the floor, putting his body protectively over mine, shielding me from any possible additional gunfire.

The entire cathedral erupted into panicked chaos.

Armed guards raced to surround the royal family as Richard's own security force swarmed over us.

"Secure the perimeter!"

"Lock it down!"

"Get an ambulance."

"The queen! The queen! Secure Her Majesty!"

Blind with fear, the guests scrambled and fought their way out of the narrow pews as everyone dashed for the exits.

In my fevered mind, Richard's body on top of mine felt like dead weight.

He was dead.

I was sure of it.

It was all my fault. She had killed him because of me. My shoulders shook with sobs as he pressed me down against the icy marble floor.

"Shh… don't cry, baby girl," rasped Richard against my ear.

He grimaced when my shoulder connected with his wound as I turned around in his arms. Lifting my hands to his face, I wept, "Richard! Richard, please don't leave me! I love you! Please don't die! I need you!"

I could feel the sticky warmth of the blood from his chest wound seep into my dress and onto my skin. Where the hell was Harris? He was always by Richard's side and now he got shot and his head of security was nowhere to be found!

Placing his hand on my face, the pad of his thumb caressed my cheek. "It will take more than a bullet to take me from you, my love."

I put my hand over his and cradled it to my face. "I love you."

Finally, Harris appeared, looking surprisingly calm considering his employer was lying on the floor of a church with a bullet wound in his chest.

"Your Grace, we're ready."

He helped Richard to his feet. Richard then reached down for me. Holding me close, we crouched behind a wall of his guards who held up bulletproof shields as they hustled us out a side door of the cathedral.

As we emerged into the sunshine, which felt odd and out of place considering the cataclysmic events of the last few moments, an ominous-looking black helicopter hovered over a small square of lawn that overlooked the Old Palace Yard.

The helicopter skids had barely touched the grass before Richard and I were hoisted inside. Harris joined us as several guards took a position on the outside, standing on the skids with guns drawn as they wrapped a belt around their waists and secured it to a hook on the side.

Although it felt like an eternity, it was mere minutes before the helicopter once more lifted off, taking us to the nearest hospital.

Wincing in pain, Richard reached around me and grabbed the seat belt before securing it over my lap. Leave it to this man to be worried about my safety at a time like this.

Reaching down, I tore a long strip of silk from the bottom of my dress and balled it up in my hand. Turning to him, I pressed the fabric against his wound.

My shoulders shook and my face crumpled with fear and agony as the fabric quickly became soaked with his blood.

"Oh, God, Richard!"

His strong hand closed reassuringly over mine, applying more pressure over the wound. "I refuse to die, my love. What is the saying? I can't die because Satan is worried I'll take over hell."

"Stop! Just stop!" I cried, rejecting his attempt at teasing. "I can't lose you!"

Richard pulled my head close. Placing a fierce kiss on my lips, he vowed, "I've already told you, little one. You'll never be free of me. You're mine, forever."

The helicopter jostled us all as it slowed its speed and lost altitude. Looking out through the small window, I saw doctors and nurses scrambling across the helipad with a gurney and crash cart.

The moment the helicopter skids hit the tarmac, everyone sprang into action. Richard's guards lifted him out of the helicopter and onto the gurney. An orderly started at a sprint as he pushed his gurney toward a pair of double doors that led into the hospital. Nurses ran alongside, desperately grasping at the canvas straps to secure him down as several doctors started screaming out vital stats.

I struggled to keep up, my heavy skirts hampering me as I tripped over the yards and yards of bloodied silk.

They pushed the gurney into a massive cargo lift.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry. We need to take it from here," said a nurse. She held up a hand to push me back as she pressed the button for the lift doors to close.

As the metal doors slid closed, I thrust my arm into the gap. "Fuck you. I'm his wife and I'm not leaving his side!" I declared as I shoved my way onto the elevator and reached for Richard's hand.

He chuckled weakly. "It really is a shame to waste all this spitfire energy on something like this." He gave me a suggestive wink.

My cheeks flamed scarlet, not only from my own uncharacteristic outburst and defiance of authority but also from Richard's highly inappropriate innuendo.

The doctors and nurses in the lift exchanged amused looks.

The doors opened onto a scene of controlled chaos.

There was another older nurse, who addressed the doctors. "Operating room three is prepared. Do we have a blood type?"

"Yes, type O positive," offered another nurse as she helped push the gurney out of the lift.

"His BP is falling. Let's move it, people!"

"I need X-rays, stat! We need to find this bullet!"

"Someone page Doctor Graham."

"Let's go, people! Let's go!"

I lost my grip on Richard's hand as they shoved me aside.

"This time you really need to stay," called out a nurse over her shoulder as she ran alongside the gurney.

Without even looking at her, I nodded that I understood as I watched the man I loved, my husband, disappear through a pair of doors as they wheeled him into surgery.

As if in a daze, I slowly sank down onto my knees, buried my face in my skirts and burst into tears.

The hours ticked by with no word.

I couldn't sit. All I could do was pace back and forth within the small confines of the private lounge they had given us to wait out Richard's surgery.

My stupid skirts kept catching on the chair legs as I passed by.

"Your Grace, if I may?" said Harris.

It took me a minute to realize he was addressing me as ‘Your Grace.'

Looking down at his hand, I saw he held a knife. At my confused look, he gestured to the full skirts of my dress.

My shoulders sagged in relief. "Yes! Cut it off, Harris."

"Stand still."

He picked up a fistful of material and began to cut through the expensive silk as I leaned on his shoulder for support.

"I do apologize, Your Grace. I have sent some staff to retrieve some belongings for both of you but the hospital is locked down fairly tight with security and the entire city is on high alert looking for the shooter so it may take them awhile."

The weight of the skirt fell away. I gave a grateful sigh, caring little that I now stood in only my bodice, a short silk slip that barely reached mid-thigh, and a pair of stockings, garters, and high heels.

One of his guards rushed over to drape a scratchy grey wool blanket over my shoulders.

"Are you sure you don't want to get checked out by the nurses?" asked Harris.

"I'm not injured."

"Yes, but I was thinking more about shock."

Giving him a weak smile, I shook my head no. "I'm not going anywhere."

Harris nodded his understanding before turning to accept a hot cup of tea from a nearby staff member. "At least sit down and drink some tea. Richard would never forgive me if he found out I neglected you in any way."

Taking in his brutal-looking face with its crooked nose, I almost felt sympathetic for the man. Richard had, after all, been shot on his watch. Taking the paper cup filled with hot tea from his hands, I gingerly sat on the edge of a nearby chair and sipped at its contents.

A nurse approached us. "He's out of surgery and already coming out of the anesthesia. The doctor is with him now. I'll take you to him."

Abandoning my tea and blanket, I rushed to follow the nurse with Harris on my heels.

They led us into a darkened private room. The doctor was standing over Richard, speaking in hushed tones.

Richard was propped up slightly against some pillows. His muscled chest bare except for a thick white bandage taped in place in the center.

He reached for my hand. I clasped it close and held it over my heart as tears streaked down my cheeks.

"As I was telling His Grace, he is extremely fortunate. The bullet hit his sternum. A half an inch to the left and it would have punctured his heart."

Richard shot Harris an annoyed glare. Harris' shoulders lifted in a slight shrug.

It was an odd exchange, but I assumed Richard blamed him for not securing the cathedral better.

"We're also fortunate it wasn't a higher caliber bullet or it might have done some actual damage."

"So, what are you saying, Doctor?" I asked anxiously.

The doctor smiled. "I'm saying, His Grace is one lucky son-of-a-bitch. He lost some blood and the impact of the bullet cracked a few ribs, but his sternum took the majority of the hit and deflected the bullet. He'll have some bruising and one hell of a scar to brag about, but other than that, he'll be fine in a few days."

I threw myself on top of Richard, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Careful, love," he said with a laugh, "or you'll crack the other ribs."

Shifting upright, I swiped at the tears on my cheeks. "I'm just so relieved you're going to be okay."

Richard's face suddenly darkened. His brow furrowed as, despite his injury, he sat up straighter in bed. Looking over the railing of the gurney, his gaze surveyed me from head to toe. "Wife," he growled. "What the hell are you wearing?"

My arms wrapped across my breasts and middle in a futile attempt to hide my scandalous attire.

Then Richard demanded, "Where's my belt?"

He would be just fine.

It wasn't long before the detectives from Special Branch arrived to ask Richard and me some questions.

"Had you received any credible threats leading up to the wedding?"

I gestured to Richard's jacket, which was lying across a chair on the other side of the room. I knew the damning mobile with the photos was in the inside pocket. I started to speak, but Richard squeezed my hand.

"No, Detective," he said with a stern look in my direction.

I gave him a confused look but remained dutifully silent.

"Any idea who could have done this?"

I looked at Richard, waiting for his response.

"None at all."

What the hell?

What was going on here?

Richard knew damn well it must have been that woman who shot him.

Why was he protecting her?

I stood there fuming as the detectives finished their questioning and left.

The moment the door closed, I turned to Richard with only one question on my lips. "Why?"

He responded sternly. "Elizabeth, I will handle this my way. You are not to interfere, do you understand me?"

Reluctantly, I nodded yes.

There was a discreet knock on the door before Harris entered. Richard reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. "I could really use a nice cuppa. Would you go find me one?"

Now dressed in a more respectable pair of buff slacks with a cream cashmere sweater, I left the room to do his bidding.

Balancing a small tray with a cup of tea and some biscuits in one hand, I didn't knock as I entered his room. Thus, I was able to catch the final bits of his and Harris' conversation before they noticed my presence.

"Is phase two all set?" asked Richard.

"They'd have to be blind and stupid to not pick up on the damning trail of evidence I left," responded Harris.

"And the mobile?"

Harris didn't answer. They both looked up to see me.

Richard gave me a slow smile as he gestured for me to step closer. "My love."

I couldn't explain why, but the endearment sent a chill of unease up my spine.

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly.

Up jump'd the cruel spider, and firmly held her fast!

He dragg'd her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,

Within his little parlour; but she ne'er came down again.