Chapter Fifteen

Had he been hit by the lightning strike? Even his scalp tingled as Benedict was slammed to the wet ground covered by half a tree.

"Benedict!" Marjorie's scream penetrated the layers of his brain that were wracked with pain and an odd floating sort of sensation. "Lord Traverston, please help me get him from beneath the tree." A muffled bark followed the command while the dear woman began tearing at the branches.

"Syn, are you alive?" The earl's call bounced around Benedict's brain as he and Marjorie worked to tug branches away from his body until he was more or less uncovered.

"Oh, shit." Traverston kneeled next to Benedict with his gaze focused downward. "Syn, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you." Why did he feel so loopy? Then the pain drifted through the cloud surrounding his brain and looped down at his right thigh. "What the hell?" The jagged end of a thick tree branch had been driven through his thigh, stabbed deep into his skin as well as the muscle and tissue beneath. Not to mention he was bleeding profusely from the wound. "Damn." If he wasn't given proper medical care soon, he would bleed to death.

"That's a bad wound," she whispered, and when she reached for the branch, both men gasped. "What?"

"Don't take it out unless we can stem the flow of blood," the earl warned. "It will prove fatal otherwise, especially if the wood sliced an artery. I saw enough wounds like this in the military to know of what I speak."

"William, listen to me." Benedict grasped his friend's hand as the storm continued to depart the area. "Go back to the house and get help. Send someone for the doctor in the village, or barring that, find a midwife or an apothecary." Every word tugged some sort of pain from him, and he needed to face the very real possibility that this would be his last night on this mortal coil.

The earl laid a heavy hand on Benedict's shoulder. "You must be strong. I refuse to watch you die now after everything we've gone through."

"I will do my level best." He gritted his teeth against the pain while the scent of freshly broken oak tree infiltrated his nostrils.

"Go." Marjorie waved the earl away. "I'll stay with him and patch him up as much as I can, but you should hurry."

They exchanged a speaking glance. Traverston nodded and he dashed away until the rain and the darkness swallowed him up.

Then she dropped to her knees beside Benedict on his right side. "I'm going to tear strips from my skirting. Once I'm ready, I'll need to you extract the branch from your wound. Hopefully, I can work quickly and fashion a tourniquet of sorts."

"Marjorie, I—"

"Hush, Syn. Save your strength." She refused to meet his gaze, and all the while, the beagle crawled over to his other side, and with a whine, put a front paw on his side.

It even hurt to chuckle. "It seems we're both crippled, my friend." Needing something to take his mind off the pain and the sound of fabric tearing as Marjorie vandalized her dress, he stroked the dog's wet fur.

"This might hurt." When she eased a strip of the fabric beneath his thigh and above the wound, Benedict gasped.

"Dear God." He didn't care if she saw the tears in his eyes; this was no time for heroics. When she looped the fabric and then pulled it tight to tie it off, he cried out and curled his hand in the grass at his side. The dog whined again. "That hurts like the devil."

"I know, but I must stabilize the bleeding. If I don't…" The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a hard swallow.

This time, when he raised his gaze to hers, she held it. "Continue. I know you can do this and thank you. For everything. I…" His strength was fading as fast as the storm was rolling away from the area.

"Stay with me, Benedict," Marjorie said in a soft voice as she secured another band of the tourniquet below the wound.

The second she tied it off as tight as she could get it, extreme pain slammed through his body. It was too much, too much…

He drifted off, but oddly enough, there was a surcease from the pain, the fallen tree, the rain, the lingering growls of thunder, and flashes of lightning. There was… nothing, really. It was as if he waited somehow between the world of the living and the dead.

Why?

Soon enough, the ghost of his wife shimmered into view. "Phoebe?" In the distance, the sound of a child's laughter rang in his ears, and his heart lurched. "Henry?" Joy welled in his chest to know that he would join his family, and he would finally be at peace. "It's my time, isn't it? It's finally my time."

"Papa come play!" Excitement and child-like joy filled Henry's voice. "We can sail boats like we used to and then go fishing."

"I must confess, I am surprised to see you again so soon, Syn." Phoebe smiled at him. She looked as fresh and as young as she did the last time he'd seen her, but then, ghosts probably didn't age. "This time you are in a bit of a sticky wicket, hmm?"

"So it would seem. But that is fine because I can join you. It is all I have ever wanted." When he reached out a hand to her, she shook her head.

"I am truly sorry." She frowned. "As much as we are waiting for you, it's not your time."

"It is. I've been ready for years, and now I am really dying." Was she not aware of that?

"If that were so, you would have already joined us, yet since I left the mortal coil, you never followed."

Did she think him a coward? "I was going to, but—"

"I am not blaming you, my love. However, there is more for you here, Benedict. There is a future stretching out before you and happiness. I could never take that from you, and you will thrive in that. Ending your life was never the option for you."

"No." He shook his head, and once more eased his gaze to where his son ran about with a toy boat in his hand. "I had happiness with you."

She smiled, but the gesture didn't reflect in her eyes. "Perhaps, but we had our differences, and fought more often than you would like to remember." When she ruffled his hair, he shivered. "There is still more for you to experience in the world of the living."

"How? You are all here." Didn't she want him to join her?

"You silly thing. You have so much in store for you with that woman who is trying to save your life." Her smile never wavered. "Even now, Marjorie is working feverishly to stem the flow of blood from your thigh. That's quite a nasty wound, and you were so very brave to rescue her from the lake when I know it was a challenge for you." Phoebe's expression turned a bit sad. "The widow loves you."

A soothing sort of heat went through his veins as if he were being wrapped in some sort of comforting embrace. "That is neither here nor there. I am with you now." Wasn't he? Yet there was a nagging sense that he should return, to let Marjorie know he would be all right.

"Stop fooling yourself. You are in love with her too."

He shook his head. "I cannot marry another."

"You can, but you need to let me go, or the idea of me." She sat on the ground beside him. "I'm gone and I'm not coming back. What we had lives in the past, but that is not where the living is, not where you need to be."

"How can I go on without you? Without our boys?" Even now, pain went through his heart, but it wasn't nearly as acute as it once was.

"Hold us in your heart, Syn. We will always be there whenever you need us, but you must move forward. Grasp at the happiness you have found with Marjorie, at that love, because it is so very rare in our world." She offered him a smile. "You have found it twice."

While her words held merit, he wasn't ready to agree. "As rare as a lightning strike?"

"Yes." Phoebe snickered. "Oddly enough, you just survived that too. Some would say it is God's way of making a stubborn marquess pay attention."

He snorted, for she did have a droll sense of humor. "But, it has taken me years to finally reach this place, to where I've wished to be—"

"But it's not your time. Don't you understand?" In some apparent agitation, she stood. "I can promise you that we will see each other again, but you must stop clinging to the shadows, to the memories of what you once had because you have something even better before you, and it is time for you to let yourself enjoy it."

"Marjorie, while wonderful in her own right, isn't you." Though she had been the driving force in nudging him back to the land of the living. She was instrumental in making him laugh again, see things with a vibrancy he thought he'd lost years ago.

"I should hope not." Phoebe's laughter was a balm to his soul, but it sounded as if it came from miles away, in an errant breeze, a melody in his memory. "You don't need a woman like me in this phase of your life—a society lady who follows all the rules and never wishes to cause scandal. You need her ." When he said nothing, Phoebe huffed. "Marjorie is strong and pushy and she won't put up with your arrogance or your brooding. She'll make you into the man you need to be, the marquess you should have been these past five years. For England's future and your own, with her help, the pair of you will make many things happen."

"No." Exhaustion took hold. A shiver of cold ripped up his spine. Why the devil was he so cold in this place between? It took so much concentration and effort to lift his hand. "Accepting Marjorie—loving her—is a betrayal of you."

"That is a flimsy excuse, and you know it. You and I wed until death parted us. That is permanent. And quite bluntly, I am dead." She shrugged. "You are free. There is no more us."

"I never wanted that." When he truly examined the situation, he was angry at her for leaving him to grieve and put his life back together of his own accord. She'd taken the coward's way out and left him alone.

"Perhaps, but I needed it. I simply wasn't strong enough to remain on earth, regardless of how it affected you." Her hand drifted over his face, and it felt like a breeze. "I know what I did was horrible, so I'm here to set you free again. Go to her, Syn. Love that woman. Marry her. Enjoy life as you never did with me. She will always be there for you. I promise."

"Papa come play with me…"

The words were fading, and the insistent pull of something tugged at his soul. "I don't want to go back." Benedict's heart squeezed. "Let me join you."

"…he is losing too much blood despite my best efforts…" Panic was evident in Marjorie's voice, and oddly, he heard her voice as if she were beside him. "…Lord Traverston, please! Press with all your might just here! Doctor…"

His chest tightened. She was so worried, and there were tears in her voice as she worked. Pain shuddered through his injured leg; he felt it acutely in that nether world. Shouldn't he have been rendered pain free if he were dead?

"My time with you is over." Phoebe shook her head, cocked it as if listening. "Marjorie is stemming the flow of blood; she is quite determined to save your arse. I'm afraid I would have been useless in the same situation." Her grin was soft. "Stop arguing with me, tell me goodbye, and welcome her into your arms life, Syn. Let her help you. She is what you need, perhaps what you've always needed…"

The struggle between wanting the new but missing the old held him captive, but as he strained to remain with the ghosts of his family, the pull for him to return to the world of the living grew stronger. Finally, with a hard swallow, Benedict nodded. "I will never forget you."

"So you shouldn't, but I'll be in the breeze, in the laughter you hear, in the enjoyment of your favorite cup of tea." She glanced at Henry, beckoned him close. "We both will, and I rather believe Marjorie will help you remember without the pain. That is what a good woman will do. Tell her the stories. Make us live in her imagination. In this, you will heal too." A trace of heat sank into his cheek, his forehead. Had Phoebe kissed him? "There is so much waiting for you, I am beyond pleased for you."

"I shall take your word for it."

She nodded. "Goodbye, Syn. This is the last time you will see me, I'll wager, for you no longer need my guidance." With a smile, she held out a hand to their son. "Come, Henry. Papa will join us later."

Slowly, they faded from his view. Seconds later, Benedict was hurtled back to reality and came to when Marjorie lightly tapped his cheeks. Pain was a constant companion, but he returned to awareness with a gasp and a start. "Marjorie."

Her smile was small and tight, but there was relief in her eyes, illuminated by Traverston's lantern. "Stay awake, Benedict. You can't slip into sleep."

The dog at his side nudged him with a wet nose. Yes, he was undeniably back. There was a certain comfort in that. "I must tell you something before I pass out again."

"No. We are going to take you back to the house. The doctor is supposed to meet us there." She shook her head. The metallic scent of blood flooded his nostrils, but the rain had let up exponentially. "You are feeling guilty. I won't have that on my conscience if you—"

Almost frantic, he pressed the fingers of one hand to her lips regardless of the earl's presence or a contingent coming toward them from the manor. "Please, let me do this." When he groped for her hand and finally grasped it, relief coursed through him. "The second you came into my life, everything I ever knew went topsy turvy." It was far too difficult to think of the words he desperately needed to say, for cold and exhaustion were seeping in, stealing his concentration. "I guarded my heart against everything you represented and wanted, but it was impossible not to let you in."

"Hush, Syn. Save your strength." She was in tears, clinging to his hand and pressing the other on top of the earl's to keep the bleeding to a minimum as a few footmen and Trenton swarmed around their location. Shouts and orders went up for the tree to be removed and a makeshift pallet created so they could convey him to the house.

The pain intensified. And he was so damned cold! "There is more," he whispered, but an annoying darkness encroached at the sides of his vision. No matter that he shook his head, it wouldn't dislodge. "Don't leave, Marjorie. Please." Before he could utter the words he truly wanted to say to her, the inky void rushed up and claimed him.

The last thing he heard was his wife telling him to go back and Marjorie imploring him to stay with her.