Chapter 34

"What the hell is going on here?", roared a deep baritone that undoubtedly belonged to the broad chest she had crashed into. Sun-tanned hands grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back a bit to get a better look at her.

"Esteban!" The ruffian cried out in alarm and Catherine could not tell whether out of relieve or shock. Maybe both. "I've got it all under control."
"Yes, I can see that," the other man replied slowly, glancing once again at Catherine. The cold, calculating way his eyes scanned her appearance made her skin start to crawl and the fine hairs on the back of her neck to raise up. This Esteban person was much more dangerous than the ruffian, this she knew for sure.

"What is the meaning of all of this?" She demanded to know, putting all her authority into her question.
"I was just about to ask you the very same question. What are you doing here in the stables, in the middle of a thunderstorm?" Esteban asked in a piercing voice.
"She's here for a little amorous tête-à-tête with her lover," the first man explained and leered at her, causing Catherine to moan in annoyance and to roll her eyes.

Behind them, the door opened and two men appeared in the corridor, groaning loadly and dragging behind some kind of a bag.
"We will see." Esteban's right hand closed viselike around her wrist and the tall man dragged a fiercely resisting Catherine towards the entrance.

Only now did she realize that it wasn't a heavy object but a human being they were tearing at.
But she only recognized her husband's right-hand when they were standing right in front of his motionless form.
Terrified, she dropped to her knees next to Fabrice and did not even notice that the grip on her wrist had loosed.
"Oh my God!" She exclaimed when she realized that his clothes were soaked not only in rain but also in blood.

"I'm afraid your rendezvous for a roll in the hay needs to be canceled," chuckled the ruffian, who just seemed to be having the time of his life. Esteban was content with watching her Argus-eyed.
"I just hope for your sake that he's still alive", She hissed angrily and leaned down to the injured man.

To her relief, he was still breathing. Although his breath was flat and irregular.
Without hesitation she examined his upper body and found two wounds. The larger one was located at his lower abdomen. And he was loosing lots of blood which worried her.

Catherine's eyes scanned the dark stable area but found nothing she could use to stop the massive bleeding. So she reached for the hem of her skirts and ripped off a long rag she immediately pressed onto the larger of the two wounds.
When she looked up at Fabrice's chalk-white face, his eyes flickered and opened. Seconds later his throat released a tormented moan.
"Easy, don't try to get up" she instructed him gently but firmly, paying no attention to the four men whose eyes were resting mainly on her and her doing.

When the fabric was completely soaked by his blood, Catherine once again tugged at her dress with growing concern. But this time she wasn't able to tear off another rag. A frustrated sound escaped her lips.
Then the material finally gave way. She threw the first compress aside and put pressure on the wound, causing Fabrice to groan in pain. His whole body tensed up.

After some minutes he gave in to the pain and willed his body to relax. His hands started to search his body for other wounds.
The Queen Mother tore at her dress and handed him another piece of cloth.
"If you can, press this on the other wound."

Fabrice followed her instructions, though she could tell by his expression how painful this had to be. Catherine lowered her eyes anxiously.
Blood kept seeping out between her fingers. Way too much blood.

"Hang on," she whispered, failing to banish the helpless out of her voice she was feeling.

The man who had been her shadow for the last few days opened his mouth and muttered something. Catherine had to lean forward to understand him. She noticed that a small trickle of blood was trickling down the corner of his mouth.

"My boot," he whispered so faintly that only she could understand. As inconspicuously as possible she let her gaze glide down his legs, but did not notice anything unusual about his footwear. "Wea... Weapon, be careful." His words were nothing but a strained croak, but they immediately increased Catherines heart rate.

Carefully as not to arouse their suspicion she slid down again and lifted the fabric from his gaping wound, which was still bleeding profusely. With the power of desperation, she tore another shred off of her dress. This time, however, she neatly placed her skirts over his lower legs so that they covered his boots.

With one hand she pressed the fresh fabric on the wound, while her right hand wanded to his shoes. When her fingers touched the cool butt of a dagger, her heart leaped with excitement.

Catherine tried to cover her excitement as not to give her finding away while she slowly pulled the weapon out of his boot leg and slid it into the shaft of her own boot. The cold blade against her ankle felt grandiose and gave her new hope.

When she let her gaze wander back to Fabrice's face, she noticed that he had closed his eyes meanwhile and that his features seemed strangely relaxed. Alarmed, she grabbed his arm to feel his pulse. But there was none.

Catherine put her hand on his chest, desperately searching for the lifting and lowering, a small sign that there was still some spark of life in her loyal guardian. But that last spark was gone.

She was stuck by a sense of bewilderment and sadness. Tormented, Catherine let out a sound of grief. Then she grabbed Fabrice's hands and gently folded them on his chest. She silently stared at his motionless figure before she raised her head and angrily stared at the intruders with a dirty look, both men were still looking down at her.

"Why did this good man had to die? Why are you here?" She screamed and rose to build herself up before Esteban. Her whole body quivered with anger, but the dark-haired devil did not even flinch.

"Do not be troubled, sweetheart. You may have it off with me, babe!" The ruffian teased her and pulled her closer despite her resistance. With a sardonic grin on his face he slapped her across the backside.

At this insolence the Queen Mother snorted in disgust and struck at the outrageous man with her bloodied hands. He just laughed at her and pulled her closer so she could smell his foul breath.
"Don't. Touch. Me!" She said between clenched teeth and emphasized every single word.

To her surprise Esteban came to her aid by stepping between them.
"Get a grip, Bertrand. Or have you already forgotten why we're here?" The strict tone of the apparent leader's voice tolerated no objection.

Many many thanks for your numerous reviews. I'm so happy that you are still interested. You're the best.

I actually never planned to kill Fabrice, but then it just happened. :-(