by Dayna Quince
If all went as planned, the bullet wound would heal from the inside out, and she wouldn't be able to pack in any cloth at all in a week’s time. But he would still require a bandage for some time yet to protect the wound and keep further contaminants from entering it. As she worked, his body relaxed and his breathing grew deeper and more even. She cleaned around the wound and then was ready for him to sit up so she could bandage him.
She touched his shoulder and his eyes slowly opened.
“I need you to sit up now so I can wrap the bandage around you.”
He nodded and did as she said, moaning slightly as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.
“It may feel a bit worse now that I've gone in and cleaned it out. But soon it will feel better.”
“It already feels better," he said, his voice raspy. “No longer feels like a hot poker stabbing me in the side. It hurts, but it's a cold hurt like a constant punch.”
“I'll have to take your word for it, then.” She unfolded a sheet she'd stolen from the linen closet and stood, ripping long strips.
“You know they probably count the linens and will notice that one missing.”
She used her arm to brush her hair from her face as she gathered her fresh clean strips of bleached white linen and sat beside him on the bed. “In a castle this size? I'll take my chances. I've seen enough sheets abused in acts of play by Weirick and Roderick to know they aren't a treasured item. There is plenty more where this came from.”
Luna folded up a strip of linen into a large square and pressed it to his side.
He winced.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No, I’m sorry. I seem to be making a rash of poor decisions lately, but this wasn't one of them.”
“This? Your bullet wound?”
“No, letting you help me. Clearly, you know what you are doing. I was very close to not letting you touch me, and it would've been a bad decision.”
“Yes, it would have been.”
She picked up another strip and reached around him, holding one end over the padding and winding the other around his abdomen. She tried to ignore the way her breathing changed, her lungs tight with excitement as she leaned close to him.
With every inhale, she could smell him, and unlike the putrid fluid that had poured from his wound, he smelled divine, like bergamot and spiced wine. The kind the duchess gifted them at Christmas time, filled with chunks of sweet fruit and spices simmered for hours until they filled the air from Selbourne to Kirkland, thick and heady.
She tucked one end of the strip into the other and grabbed another one, beginning the same process as both arms were around him. He shifted toward her, turning as if to look at her progress, but suddenly they were face to face and the world went still. She didn't know if she was breathing anymore, but his scent filled her head and his face filled her vision. So close she could see the grains of his whiskers under his skin, thick and dark. Somehow, she was now touching his skin, her hands resting on his twitching abdominals and his lower back, almost like an embrace.
His skin was soft and firm under her hands and far warmer than it ought to be. She licked her lips and then swallowed. She knew words should come from her mouth. She had something important to say but she couldn't put them together.
“I…”
Drat! What the devil had she meant to say? Tea!
“Tea,” she said aloud. “I will make you a fresh cup of willow bark tea. That should bring the fever down. I can tell you're far too warm still.”
“I confess I've never had willow bark tea.”
“Be grateful, the taste isn't pleasant, but I've something I can mix with it to make it palatable.”
“It's a shame women cannot be doctors. You'd be excellent. Most of the ones I've met care not for how their poisons taste.”
“Women can be doctors, though shamefully, they are not allowed. I can’t fathom why men always assume women can't become physicians. It is our innate ability to care for others, to soothe and comfort, and yet it is assumed things like attending a wound or broken arm is too violent for our sensibilities. But they forget one vital thing about women.”
“And what is that?”
“We bleed for most of our lifetime,” she said.
She'd probably shocked him.
Why was it men were so terrified of womanly issues, yet they labeled women the weaker sex? Mention timely courses in front of a man and they sputter.
Indeed, his eyes had widened and his cheeks appeared a bit flushed, but that could very well be the effects of his fever.
Just when she thought she'd regained control of herself and she was ready to pull away and finish bandaging him, the door opened and in walked his brother.
Mr. Denham froze at the sight of them sitting together on the bed, her arms around him, Lord Densmore’s shirt tucked halfway up his chest. Mr. Denham raised his hand and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but then he turned on his heel and left.
Lord Densmore muttered something under his breath. Luna finished wrapping the bandage and reached for one more strip, the final strip, as she was tucking it into the other bands and securing it.
The door opened again and Mr. Denham charged in and stood before them, arms folded.
“I thought better of it, and I'd rather yell at you,” he said to his brother.
Lord Densmore looked at his brother. “I'm not in the mood for yelling, at present. I just had my insides rearranged.”
“As curious as that sounds, you're a bald-faced hypocrite, Callen. You've got her in your room.”
Luna stood from the bed and began to clean up her mess. “In case you haven't noticed, Mr. Denham, what you've seemingly interrupted was a serious event in which I was saving your brother’s life. So save your hysterics for someone else.”
He drew back. “Hysterics? Who’s being hysterical? Not I. If I am wrong about what I think is happening here, kindly correct me, Miss Lunette.”
“Gladly. Your brother’s wound was festering, and I have purged it and re-bandaged it. As you can see.” She waved to the piles of blood-soaked rags and various utensils she'd used. He looked it over.
“Is that a knitting needle?” he asked.
“It's a torture device,” Lord Densmore replied at the same moment, Luna answered, “Today it's a surgical instrument.”
Her gaze caught with his and among the dazed pain in his eyes, she saw a small bit of amusement. And it was at that moment something shifted inside her.
They were of an accord and while she'd quickly accepted his physical attractiveness, she greatly admired this new emotion bubbling up inside her that was not solely based on his appearance.
They'd begun something. A strange, unintentional courtship of a sort. They were bonded by secrets now, and Luna feared what that might mean for a future with him.
But she was certain he liked her. He appreciated her sense of humor, though not on every occasion, such as when she had a knitting needle shoved inside his abdomen. But he always caught her attempts at humor and recognized them, which was something not even her sisters noticed. To put it frankly, he saw her and it was very pleasant to be seen, at last.
Mr. Denham shifted on his feet. “Brother, you didn't tell me your wound was causing a problem. I could have gotten you the appropriate help you needed. You needn't let some amateur physician toy around in your innards.”
“She blackmailed me into complying with her request to see my injury. From there it snowballed into full surgery. I feel better now, so that is an improvement.”
“Why didn't you tell me you were feeling poorly to begin with? We're in this together, aren't we? Isn't that what you implied earlier?”
Lord Densmore glared at his brother.
Clearly things were tense between the brothers. Luna pretended to be distracted with cleaning her supplies and washing her hands in the basin with scalding water. She moved the kettle away from the fire while the two brothers scowled at each other in silence. She
brewed Lord Densmore a cup of tea, mixing the tiniest amount of laudanum with the willow bark. Remembering his aversion to it, she dumped it out and started over, using special oil that Sonam had given her, made from a vigorous plant with pointed leaves like a hand. He’d gifted a plant to the duke, and it was now growing in the kitchen garden for medicinal use. Luna was granted access to it whenever she needed. Sonam had taught her how to harvest the oil from the plant, which in turn could be made into salves and balms for topical use, or the oil could be ingested.
It had some pain-relieving properties, unlike other herbs, that might help him without dulling his mind. She mixed it into the tea along with a bit of sugar and red raspberry leaf. She brought the cup to Lord Densmore, standing in front of him, interrupting the current of tension between the siblings.
He took the cup. “What's in this tea?”
“Willow bark," she answered, “and red raspberry leaf, sugar for a better flavor, and hemp seed oil to help alleviate some of the pain, but it's not a miracle. You'll have to take care. I did not add any laudanum after you rejected it the first time.”
“Thank you.” He took a sip. “It's actually not that bad.”
“So what exactly is going on here?”
Luna turned to face Mr. Denham, at once protective of her patient against this clueless foe who had riled him up, which was not good for healing.
“Your brother could have died. If you care for him at all, you'll cease your infernal whining and help me watch over him. If you want to protect your secret, you'll have to make excuses why he can't do all the things he would normally do. In the meantime, I will come nightly after the house is asleep and change the bandage. I’ll leave some ingredients here with you for you to continue to make the tea that should keep you mostly comfortable."
“Nightly bandage changes here in his room after all the castle has gone to bed? Are you mad, woman?”
“If you feel it necessary, you may chaperone. Will that make you feel better? But if you can’t be useful, you will only be in my way.”
Behind her, she could hear Lord Densmore chuckling. She glanced over her shoulder at him and winked. He grinned at her and his smile went straight to her head like sweet wine. She faced his brother once again and his gaze had narrowed on her. “You can count on it, Miss Lunette.”
Luna went to the writing desk and scribbled out instructions for the tea. She folded them and handed the note to Mr. Denham.
“Make this tea for him every four hours to keep the fever and pain at bay. I don't know all the excursions for the party, but if we can work together, we can hide the fact that he can't do very physical things.”
“The poor dear. My brother is so very physical,” he said, glancing past Luna and to his brother.
Luna didn't know what to make of that remark, so she ignored it.
Chapter 8
Theo woke Callen when it was time to dress for dinner and helped him put on a fresh shirt, waistcoat, and jacket. He even styled Callen's hair for him and tied his cravat. The awkwardness of the moment didn't go unnoticed between.
“I do appreciate the help, Theo. It hurts to lift my arms to any significant degree, even to put on the shirt.”
“Is it worse now that you let a complete novice poke around your insides?”
“It's different, but I can't tell if it's worse or better.”
Theo stood back and inspected his work, meeting his brother’s gaze hesitantly. “Shall I make you that disgusting tea she prescribed?”
Callen lowered himself to sit on the foot of the bed. “Yes, I find the tea did help and given things I've tasted before, it wasn't all that bad.”
His brother snorted and went to make the tea. Miss Lunette had left the kettle sitting by the fire. His brother checked the level of the water, refilled it, and then they waited for the water to warm.
“It strange…” Theo said absently.
“What is?” Callen asked.
“I don't think you've ever needed me before. I don't think anybody has.” Theo turned to the fire and squatted down, his back to Callen.
Callen winced. And not just because his wound felt like it was being stitched together with dull rusty needles by demons from hell. But because this wasn't a road he wanted to go down right now. He had no energy for arguing, and besides that, it wasn't true. Callen had needed him.
Lots of times.
He'd needed Theo to be more responsible, more considerate, more cognizant of the effect his mischief had on Callen and their friends. But he couldn't say those things right now because he needed his brother’s help. He couldn't risk driving him away when he was at his weakest.
If he survived this party. He still would have to survive the trip across the pond, and he still did not yet have a plan for what to do when they there.
“Well, I appreciate you're here now.”
Theo looked over his shoulder at him. “Why her first?”
“I didn't go to her. She followed me here. Walked right in, bold as you please, and demanded to see my wound.”
“Did she now? These Marsdens are far more spirited than I would have guessed for country-bred women."
An answering laugh rose up in Callen, but he wouldn't let it out. His abdominal muscles felt like razor blades, and if he moved too quickly, they would slice up his insides. “So it would seem, but neither you nor I have much experience with Northumberland women, do we?”
“No, we do not,” his brother said as he lifted the kettle from the fire and poured the steaming water over the ingredients in the teacup. He glanced at the instructions she'd written out for him.
“This has to sit for one minute and then you can drink it.”
Theo took a sip and his brows rose as he smacked his lips together. “You were right. It's not that bad. I’ll keep this recipe for the next time one of us is gravely injured, but I'm not certain where to find hemp oil.”
“It grows here in the kitchen garden. Perhaps we can trouble Weirick for some seeds and have our own plant at home.”
Theo handed him the cup, and Callen wrapped both hands around it, his arms as weak as a newborn babe. He managed to lift it to his lips and he gulped it down. Theo took the cup away and Callen wanted to return to bed, but the idea of lying back, moving his stomach in such a way, sounded like torture. He sighed and glanced at his brother.
“Shall we go down to dinner?”
“Are you sure you can make it? I can say you drank yourself into a stupor and your snoring loud enough to wake the dead.”
Callen would have lunged and hugged his brother if he had the energy. He was so grateful, his eyes stung. “I would be forever in your debt if you would do that. I don't care what you tell them, tell them I'm spewing diarrhea from my rear as long as I can stay here and go back to sleep.”
Theo chuckled. “I might believe you about being forever in my debt if you weren't as pasty as a sun-bleached shirt right now, but instead I'll help you back into bed. I wish we had come to this conclusion before dressing you,” Theo said.
“I as well,” Callen muttered.
Theo helped him undress again down to his shirt and trousers and then assisted him into bed. Theo tucked the covers around him with a silly grin.
“What should I tell your surgeon?”
“Something that will prevent her from coming up here.”
“But I got the impression you rather enjoyed her tender loving care.”
Callen glared at his brother with heavy eyelids. “Don't let her come up here, not until later, after the house is abed and she has to change my bandage. Assure her I just needed sleep. I think she'll understand that.”
Theo nodded. “Very well, I shall do my best.”
Callen drifted in a haze of pain, feeling sweaty and cold as he let his eyes close, and he heard his brother move toward the door and the click that signaled he was now alone and at peace. For the moment, there was a truce between him and his brother. Who knew it would take his life hanging in the balance to bring upon s
uch an event. Perhaps this was what his brother needed, a bit of consequence for his actions. Callen just hoped he wouldn't have to die to make his brother turn over a new leaf because things could go one of two ways. His brother would inherit and become the man he needed to be, or he might go the opposite way and burn everything down around him. There was no in between with Theo.
He imagined Theo giving Miss Lunette an excuse for why he wasn't at dinner and he smiled. He could picture her marching right up the stairs to check on him, and the thought warmed him from the inside.
Callen was always the one doing the helping and ordering, the lecturing. Taking on the hardships, the physical and emotional burdens, all the responsibilities. It was rather nice, despite lingering outside the gates of heaven as he was, to be the one laid up in bed while others did the worrying, the explaining, and took on the responsibility of keeping the status quo.
His mind drifted, the tea taking effect. At last, he no longer felt as chilled or as sweaty. He could rest now. He could let himself drift into sleep once again.
Visions of Luna filled his mind, not poking and prodding or ministering to his wound. She leaned over him, her hair down around her shoulders, wearing nothing more than a thin white shift. He could see the shadows of her nipples underneath, and he knew just what he wanted to do. He reached for her and she smiled in welcome.
Chapter 9
Luna waited anxiously in the drawing room for Lord Densmore and his brother to appear. She wouldn't know until they arrived, but she hoped that Mr. Denham would be wise enough to recognize that his brother would need help getting down to dinner. He shouldn't be moved at all. He needed to stay in bed and rest. At least for this first night, so he may be presentable on the morrow, even if for limited quantities of time.
She exhaled with relief when Mr. Denham strolled in, and after speaking to the dowager duchess and the duke for a moment, he came right to her side. He touched her elbow and they stepped away, which Luna hoped no one else noticed.
