In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South Read Online Free PDF

lay on the hard stone floor before her. Hovering over his inert form, her eyes wide in horror, she bewailed her guilt in causing such a calamity.
                       The terrifying thought came suddenly that he might rise no more. She froze in shock for a moment as she looked upon his pale face before she tore at the cravat binding his neck so that he might hopefully revive. With trembling and hesitant fingers, she gently pressed at his throat to detect a pulse, and let out her breath as she felt the steady beat of life within him.
                       Flustered and confused as to what she should do next, she scanned the mill yard and discerned that no one was coming to their aid. Chaos surrounded them. She bent over the stern Master and called his name, but he did not stir.
                       Despite her fear, she studied his face in fascination. The hardened lines that made him so formidable had vanished. She took note of his long lashes and the lips which were parted in repose. Margaret could see now the innocent boy who had lost his father and toiled so unselfishly for his family’s sake. A wave of compassion swept over her as she thought of how much he must have endured.
                       She leaned closer with great concern and called his name gently. Reaching out her hand tentatively to touch his wound, she noted the darkened shadow on cheek and jaw that declared his manliness. She began to retract her hand when his eyes fluttered open and he stared bewilderingly at her.
                       She gasped in surprise, the corners of her mouth edging upward in relief at his awakening. “Mr. Thornton, are you all right?” she asked, her expression etched with care.
                       He gazed at her in open confusion and wonder before the furor of the fleeing masses and the soldiers’ horses met his ears. He jerked his head to the side, his brow furrowing once more.
                       “The soldiers have come; your Irish are safe,” she swiftly assured him.
                       He sat up quickly, wincing at the pain in his head. He brought his hand to his injury and withdrew it to find traces of blood.
                       Margaret hurriedly retrieved a handkerchief from her skirts, but before she could make use of it, he was endeavoring to raise himself up.
                       She rose quickly to steady him, as he staggered from dizziness. “Pray, take care! You have been sorely hurt!” she urgently pleaded, her hands catching him on either side of his chest. “I will help you inside,” she stated firmly as she slid one arm around his waist and drew his arm over her shoulders. She was confident in her actions, having once helped a farmer who had turned his ankle in the fields.
                       Dazed and faintly nauseous, Mr. Thornton said not a word, but allowed her to assist him through the door to climb the stairs to his home. With every step, he felt his head clear, the steady motion reviving him.  
                       He turned his attention to her, aware now of her uncommon aid. She was looking down, careful in her determination to match their steps as they slowly climbed the stairs, but he could not stop gazing at her in wonderment. He dared not speak or do anything that would break this sacred moment when he could feel the warmth of her body next to his, her arm curled around him possessively. Her auburn curls were so close to him, he could breathe in the subtle fragrance of rosewater and almonds.
                       He marveled in the sublime privilege of laying his arm about her shoulders and endeavored not to move a muscle to take advantage of his position or to burden her with his weight unduly. He had long dreamed of being so close to her, but had never imagined he