Eyes on You by Rinoa
Rated PG
rinaheart@yahoo.com
Chapter 4

    "What is taking that man so long!" he demanded to no one in 
particular, his mud-caked boot pacing back and forth at the door 
of his bedroom.  A storm was raging out of his home and another 
one in his mind.     The servants watched fearfully at their master's dark form
stalking the halls of Whitehaven.  It was a shock at first, they
were all standing in one straight row to welcome his return, wearing 
their best uniform with the most congenial expression on their faces
when the door opened with a loud bang.  Thunder struck and at between
the large wooden doors stood a dark figure made out of shadows and 
dark blue light.  Everyone caught their breaths and some of the younger
women fainted with fright, the dark figure steped out of the shadows
and revealed his identity.  
    Their master, his grace, the Duke of Radbury, Baron of Norwood,
Sixth Viscount Stafford, Viscount Buckshire and owner of several houses
in England and all over Europe was covered with dark brown mud.  The 
cloak he was wearing was soaking wet from the rain, his hair was matted
to his face, and in his arms, he held a bundle protectively close to
him.  Without much as a single glance, he went upstairs in long hurried
strides with his butler, valet and housekeeper at his heels.
    Darien was oblivious to the commotion he has caused downstairs,
nothing was important but to save this girl in his arms.  He swung the
door to his bedroom open not waiting for the startled footman to open 
the door for him.  In quick strides, he reached the side of his bed and
ever so gently, he deposited her small body in his enormous bed.    
    Stepping away from her, he was suddenly alarmed that his clothes
were stained dark with blood, her blood.  He turned around and faced
his startled servants who were silently looking at him with various
degrees of dread, uncertainty and prudence.
    "Send one of the men to the nearby village tell him to look for
Dr. Anderson.  Tell him that somebody got injured, a wound from a gun."
he commanded, glancing again at the girl's fragile form he looked back
at his three servants who we're still standing there in front of him.
    "What are you waiting for?!" he snapped.  The butler, Grimsby,
was the first one to wake from their collective stupor and immediately
went downstairs to carry on his wishes.
    "Your grace, your wound..." his housekeeper started, her 
expression was a mixture of alarm at the deep crimson staining the
whiteness of his shirt.
    "I don't have any, it's the child's." he said with bitter self-
inclination in his voice. 
    "I-I shall get some water to-to clean the wound until the doctor
comes." The old lady babbled getting away from the room as soon aspossible.
    "Would his grace want a change of clothes?" his valet suggested
carefully, eyeing his state of dress.
    "Change of clothes?  At a time like this you ask me if I want
to change my clothes?  Leave this room this instant if you don't
want to look for employment elsewhere." he bit out between clenched
teeth, trying to keep his temper in check.
    Alone, finally without his servants doddering at his elbow,
he returned his attention at the person whom he owed his life to.  
For a while all he could do was stare at her.
    She was a child, obviously, small, pale and fragile.  His mind
could not reconcile the facts that were laid before him.  She had saved
his life, this slip of a girl openly shot the armed men who held them
captive giving him time to launch an attack.  
    For the first time in years, he was completely clueless on the
course of his actions.  What was a person supposed to do in this situation?
    Decisively, yet uncertainly, he decided to divest her of her 
clothes, his hands nimbly unlacing the strings that tied the heavy 
cloak closed, cursing a few times, he eventually managed to free her
from the coldness of the garment.
    He noticed the wide stain of blood that spread itself at the
side of her clothes, below her ribcage.  A sudden wave of remorse
washed over him, she could've lost her life for her stupid sacrifice.
He remembered her last words---"Sorry," that was what she said and
it puzzled him, and he wanted to know what it meant.
    With that in mind, he was getting more and more unnerved at each
passing second.  The doctor arrived within a span of an hour, weather
beaten, but still in one piece and he immediately set on work on Serena.
    Serena, that was her name and she was one of his servants.  He
had that information from his housekeeper who shrieked at the moment
she entered the room and caught sight of the girl.  Evidently, Serena
was a new addition in his household and started working a month ago.
She came from an obscure village somewhere west of Whitehaven, she
was inexperienced and according to the housekeeper she wouldn't have
hired the girl if the household was lacking of servants.  He took a  
dislike for his housekeeper who talked foolishly instead of cleaning 
the wound as she said she would do.  It took another cold glance and
a scathing reminder to get her attention and attend to the injuredgirl.
    "Your Grace?" Grimsby asked hesitantly, noting his master was
preoccupied.  It was his experience through the years of his service
that it was not advisable to disturb the Duke when he is in one ofhis moods.
    "Yes?" he asked abruptly, thankful for the distraction.
    "The constable is here, sir.  He heard of what happened and
he wanted to see you." Grimsby informed, standing straight remembering
his position as butler of Whitehaven.  While the valet tried his
hardest to curb his tongue on commenting on his master's appearance
in front of his guest.
    With a nod at his butler's direction, Darien hurried to the 
study where he saw the constable, a man younger than him, obviously
new in his position because of the nervous way he sat at the edge
of the chair.  The constable stood immediately introducing himself
as Raymond Burton when he sensed his presence.
    "Good evening your, Grace." the constable greeted.
    "Is it?" he asked sarcastically.
    Burton wisely chose not to answer his question and pounced
on a matter that caught his attention.
    "Is his grace injured?" the constable asked, taking in his dirty
appearance and the blood staining his clothes.  
    "My grace is perfectly fine, though there is a young girl 
upstairs who isn't." he informed, his voice tightly controlled from
unjustly lashing out at the young man or anyone who ever gave him the 
opportunity to.    "You might want to check-up on that with me." a voice coming
from the doorway announced, it was Gregory Anderson.  His face was
stressed from the hasty and unexpected call from his home in the 
middle of a storm and after that was the hours he worked saving the l
life of the gravely injured girl.
    Looking at the blood stains on the sleeves of the doctor's
clothes, Darien hastily asked,    "Is she alive?"
    "Yes,  the bullet grazed her side so it didn't hit any of her
vital organs, but she lost a lot of blood.  It was a nasty shot,
Darien, where did you find her?" he inquired using his given name, 
a privilege only his closest friends share.
    "Out in the woods, and I didn't find her Greg, she found me."
he informed, the knowledge that she was out of immediate danger 
took some of the weight out off his shoulder.  The butler sensing
the change of temperament immediately shot a glance at one of the 
footmen and immediately sent for glasses of brandy to be served.
    "Is she with one of the bandits who attacked you?" 
Burton asked abruptly, startling the two men and earning him
another evil look from the duke.
    "You think I would take a girl who came with the men who 
tried to rob and kill me?" he asked incredulously, he couldn't
believe the witlessness of the man who was supposedly responsiblefor this area.
    Before Burton sank himself into lower estimations in the
Duke's opinion, the doctor saved him by smoothly pointing out. 
    "Now that you know that she is alright, would you consider
a change of clothes?  Frankly, Darien, you stink and you'll catch
a cold if you stay in your wet clothes." Greg claimed bluntly
raking his eyes on his appearance and noticing the agitation of the valet.
    "Is that your professional opinion?" he asked, one of his
brows arched in arrogance reminding his friend that although he 
might have saved the girl's life, he is still the Duke of Radbury.
    "I am always professional." Greg replied with aplomb.  Darien
excused himself from the two men present; he went upstairs and 
took one of the available rooms, and at the insistence of his valet 
and at another 'professional opinion' of Dr. Anderson he took a 
a quick but warm bath.
    Now properly dressed and groomed, he rejoined the men who 
were quietly talking and enjoying his brandy.  Taking a seat at the
chair in front of the ornate mahogany desk, he narrated a brief
account of his tale.
    "I was coming home from London sitting inside my coach when
we suddenly halter, the horse was getting a bit skittish because of 
the bad weather or so I thought.  And then, the door to my coach swung
open revealing two armed masked men.  Having a gun secretly hidden 
in my clothes, I followed their instructions to go out of the carriage
and waited for a chance to get them when suddenly out of nowhere
a shot rang out and luckily, or unluckily in this case, the lightning
chose to strike at that moment revealing a figure of a cloaked man
distracting them." The events flashed back in his memory and he had 
to take another drink before he continued.    
    "The cloaked figure managed to hit one of their guns, and I 
chose that opportunity to attack.  Unfortunately, one of the bandits 
who still had a gun aimed at the cloaked figure." he paused, taking
a longer drink emptying his glass, and then took his time to pour
more of the amber liquid.
    Thinking that the Duke's silence indicated him to speak, the 
constable asked,    
    "What happened to the cloaked man and wherever did the girl
fit in all these?"
    Greg stifled the groan in his throat hoping the best for the constable.
    Maybe it was the brandy or the bath or maybe the knowledge that
the girl was safe, Darien felt charitable enough not to draw out a 
sarcastic reply and instead answered the question.
    "The cloaked man who I owe my life is upstairs recuperating."
    Greg let loose a relieved breath, but he almost panicked when
the constable looked utterly clueless and about to ask another stupid
question about what is so obviously pointed out to him, Darien probably
sensed this because he clarified it further by saying.
    "The cloaked man and the girl is one and the same, I only
realized that she was a girl when I reached her side and the hood
came off and revealed her face." he said and the memory of her final 
words came back to him, he found himself dismissing the constable to 
talk with Greg in private.
    "That was a very generous thing you did." Greg commented when they 
were finally alone.
    "That was nothing, I owe the girl my life," he declared pouring
himself another shot of brandy.
    "Not Serena.  Burton." Greg clarified, looking at him with amusement.
    "It was for my sake, if I had to endure another minute with 
that man, I'll go mad." he retorted.
    "He's new in his job and he hadn't had any experience in this
kind of situation or with men of noble birth." Greg pointed out.
    "Noble birth?" Darien scoffed mocking the word and by extensionhimself.
    "You know what I mean.  Your mere shadow terrifies most men."
Greg said allowing a small joke to ease the tension out of the moment.
    "Not all of them apparently, so tell me how is the girl?" he 
questioned again, needing the assurance that she's really out ofdanger.
    "Like I said earlier, she's out of immediate danger and she's
unconscious right now.  She'll need a lot of rest if she is to pull 
through.  Right now I want to make sure that she won't break into 
a fever." Greg diagnosed, noting that his friend's usual indifferent 
demeanor was replaced with genuine concern.
    "Can you give her anything?" he asked.
    "I already did, and I have prescribed some dosages for her to 
take in case she gets feverish." he answered laying a paper filled
with prescriptions on his desk.
    "Thank you, Greg, I'll have someone look after her." he 
promised as Greg stood up and shook his hand.
    "By the way, what about the girl's family?" Greg asked his 
hand poised on the door handle.
    "I have no idea, but I have it on good authority that she works
for me." he recalled stunning his friend speechless.    
    "That is rather complicated." Greg said finally, not knowing 
the right words to say.    Darien dismissed it with a shrug saying, 
    "Raye and Chad are coming here in two weeks at the least.  Raye 
said she's looking forward to visit your wife and child." he
deliberately glossed over the fact that Raye is also looking forward 
to help him make a match.    
    "Amy will be elated. I'm coming back here tomorrow to check up
on my patient. Try to get some rest." he advised, even though he 
knew that it will not be heeded.
    After Greg left, he went upstairs to his room to check up
on the girl.  Inside he already found a dark haired girl sitting
beside the bed hovering over Serena, seeing him she immediately 
stood up and curtsied and he began a rapid fire of orders.
    "You must be at her side at all times, and if you need to go
out for some reason alert the footman outside and he'll find a 
replacement.  Now if her temperature rises, damn." he cursed
forgetting the list that Greg made downstairs, the maid looked at
him apprehensively as if she expected him to bite at any moment.
    "Go downstairs to the study and look for a piece of paper on
my desk with a written prescription." he commanded.
    The maid muttered a soft "Oui" under her breath and after 
another quick curtsy she fled the room.
    He then focused all of his attention to the girl who occupied
his bed.  She was sunk deep in his soft pillows and it struck him
how small she looked, it was as if she was made out of delicate
glass.  Her breathing was even he could tell from the weak rise and
fall of her chest.  He finally turned his gaze at her features, now
having time to take a good look at her.
    The first thing that caught his attention was her hair it was
free from it's coil and now spread about the pillows glistening gold
in the candlelight, some of the ringlets curling gently at her face.
She looked ethereal and peaceful.  Serena, that was her name and 
right now the name suited her, serenity, Serena. Her delicate face
was pale as porcelain, her cheekbones were delicately molded but
there was a willfulness in the set of her chin that hinted
stubbornness, and courage.  Looking at the long lashes that curled 
at her cheeks, he tried to remember the glimpse of blue in her eyes.   
	He remembered the thiness of her body and the lightness of her 
weight when he held her, the lost of blood and her physical condition 
might make it hard for her to recover, he knew that Greg didn't tell 
him the entire truth.
    He took the back of his hand and placed it at her forehead 
relieved that it felt cool to his touch, he then took her hand and
held it for a while contemplating the meaning of the girl's final 
words.  His mind came up blank and he had no answers, a first inhis life.
    "You are either incredibly stupid or astoundingly brave."
he whispered his conclusion giving her hand a squeeze, and then 
releasing it gently when he heard the maid enter the room.
****************************Tell me what you think!
sorry if it took so long and it's so short. ~_~send me mail!rinaheart@yahoo.com