He scooped up her still form, her weight no more than a satchel full of feathers. “She’s fainted,” shouted a deep voice. “Quick, get some smelling salts,” instructed someone else. A few men rushed toward him, pressing close to stare at the drooping figure in his arms while the man who’d rushed into the room collected his own audience near the door. Someone pulled out a chair and he collapsed into it, panting heavily. Jason shifted his weight from one boot to the other. What in the world was he to do with a fainting woman? Stand there and hold her until she came to? Lay her out on the table? The floor? He was just about to deposit her into the arms of the big man who hovered anxiously over him when Mrs. Hughes’s voice cut through the worried chatter. “Get back, everyone. Give her room.” She shoved her way between two men as if they were tall stalks of river grass, pulling the stopper from a bottle. “Here. It’s just vinegar, but it ought to do the trick.” Actually, Kathryn’s eyelids were already fluttering.
