Without further conversation, they increased the pace and rode hard for close to two hours. Slowing his horse to a walk, Quincy waited for her to do the same and then smiled at her. “You ride very well, Miss Carrington.”
“Victoria,” she pressed.
“Victoria,” he said with a nod.
“Thank you for the compliment.” She shifted in the saddle and pulled her feet from the stirrups. “I wish I could take credit, but my family owns racing thoroughbreds, so I was in the saddle before I could walk.”
“Racing?”
“Yes. It’s something that won’t become formalized until after the war ends.”
“I would have never guessed.”
Victoria chuckled quietly to herself. “How are your injuries?” Then added before he could answer, “When we stop, I’d like to check your bandages.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to worry after me.”
“Did I say I was worried?”
“I am perfectly fine, Victoria.”
Victoria smiled. “Tough Gus, huh?”
They stopped three hours later, when Victoria saw Quincy grimace, even though he never said a word. She knew he needed to rest but also knew he’d never admit it. “Quincy, could we please stop for a bit?” She yawned for effect. “I’m quite tired.”
He nodded, but she caught a look of relief on his face. “Of course.”
They found a secluded area, dismounted, and tied the horses down. Victoria saw that Quincy was having difficulty, so she went to assist him and caught him as he stumbled.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
She deduced he would be embarrassed at his weakness, so quickly said, “My fault. I should have zigged when you zagged.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Let’s get you fixed up.” Helping him over to a tree, she set him against it and then settled her palm on his forehead. He felt warm to the touch and she was concerned he may be developing a fever. Zipping open her bag, she found her stash of Advil, pulled two pills out along with her bottled water.
“What is that?” he asked suspiciously.
“It’s a painkiller.” She watched him raise an eyebrow at her in distrust and let out a sigh of frustration. “I’ve brought you this far, I’m not going to poison you now.” He took the pills. The action seemed to drain him, and he leaned against the tree trunk, eyes hooded, hiding the pain. Patting his hand in concern, Victoria said, “Just relax. Sleep if you need to.”
He dropped his head back with a grunt. “I must protect you.”
“Gus, you couldn’t save a kitten from a puppy right now. Just relax. I’ll be fine.”
She watched him lose his battle with wakefulness and let out a quiet sigh. Her relief didn’t last long.
“Victoria?”
Frowning, she squeezed his arm. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”
“I’m fine,” he rasped. “How do you think this happened to you?”
Checking his temperature again, she answered distractedly, “I don’t know, but now I’m wondering if something similar happened to Hannah.”
“Who is Hannah?”
“My college roommate.” She slipped a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “I should check your bandages.”
He shook his head. “Tell me about Hannah first.”
“She disappeared suddenly and no one has any idea where she is. In fact, she was in the same building I was in when she went missing, and now it’s all a big mess.” Victoria filled him in on the circumstances surrounding Hannah’s disappearance and the scrutiny she was receiving from the FBI. It took a few minutes to realize he wasn’t paying attention to her story.
“Quincy? Hey, stay with me.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “We need to check your bandages.” His eyes fluttered closed, so she tried to shake him awake. “Quincy? Come on, big man, wake up.”
His body went limp and Victoria knew he could no longer hear her. Folding her sweatshirt, she repositioned the unconscious man so that he was lying flat on his back and then gently laid his head on the makeshift pillow.
Victoria thought she should at least try and see if she could get the bullets out. She hoped his lack of consciousness was a blessing as she pulled her supplies from her bag and grabbed the small makeup case she carried. Inside was a flashlight along with tweezers, scissors, band-aids, a tube of Neosporin, and even a sewing kit.
Unbuttoning his pants, Victoria tried her best not to notice his flat stomach and muscular thigh, turning her head slightly, but having to look to pay attention to what she was doing. She remembered she had a couple of towels on hand to clean her camera with, so she laid one over his “specialness.”
Thank you, Mother, for never actually using the word.
She got to work and felt around the wound on his thigh. It seemed as though the bullet didn’t go particularly deep, because she could feel it just under the muscle. However, the wound puckered with pus, looking much worse than it had earlier. Her hopes dashed that she could get it out without having to cut him.
Taking a few minutes to rinse her hands with her water and rub sanitizer on them, she dried them quickly and then went to work after she said a quick prayer. She felt his thigh with her fingers, made a tiny incision with the knife she found in his coat pocket, and then dug the tweezers into the wound as gently as possible. She felt the bullet, heard the metal scrape as she squeezed the tweezers, and pulled it out with relative ease.
The breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding escaped in a quiet whoosh as she cleaned the wound and put a stitch in it. Squeezing a dime-sized round of ointment on a square of gauze, she gently laid it over his wound then wrapped the bandage around his leg—his unbelievably muscular thigh—before tying the bandage off and pulling his pants back up his body. It was a little harder to get them back on, but she managed with such brute force, she was surprised he didn’t stir.
Once she rinsed her hands again, she moved up to his shoulder and felt his forehead, which seemed cooler, probably because of the Advil. She took a moment to look at his handsome face and gently swept his hair away from his forehead before cupping his bearded cheek, surprised by the softness of the whiskers on her palm.
“Okay, I know I said wake up before, but please don’t take this moment to listen to me. Stay asleep so I can look at your shoulder.”
Unbuttoning his jacket and shirt, she gently pushed them aside to remove the bandage. The wound—red, swollen, and angry—drew a quiet moan from her. She figured that might be what was causing the fever. Gently probing the wound, she couldn’t feel the bullet. She lifted his shoulder and felt his back. There wasn’t an exit wound, so she was sure it was lodged inside, out of reach. There simply wasn’t any way she could get it out.
She poured the rubbing alcohol over his shoulder, unprepared for what happened next. He shot up with a growl and grabbed her arm.
“Shhh, Gus, it’s me—Victoria.”
Quincy stared at her, unseeing, and breathed frantically.
“I’m trying to clean your shoulder. I’m sorry it hurts,” she crooned in an effort to calm him. Several minutes ticked by as he held her wrist in his large, strong hand. “Quincy?”
Taking a slow, deep breath, he looked at her again. This time, she knew he saw her. “It’s all right, little rebel. I won’t hurt you.”
Letting out the breath she still held, she smiled. “Okay. Can I please finish?”
“Finish what, exactly?”
“I was able to get the bullet out of your leg, but not your shoulder.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You removed the bullet?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“How?”
Holding up her instrument in triumph, she said, “I had tweezers.”
Looking down, he raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you remove my trousers?”
Embarrassed, she let out a quiet sigh and lowered her eyes, mortified.
Quincy chuckled, but didn’t press further. “Than
k you. I would very much appreciate it if you would look at my shoulder. It’s quite painful at the present time.”
“I’m sorry. Can you pull your arm from the sleeve?” she asked as she moved back to him. “It’ll be easier to bandage.” She winced involuntarily when she noticed his grimace as he pulled his arm out of the jacket. She leaned forward and reached for a lapel. “Here, let me help with your shirt.”
Gently pulling it from his shoulder and down his arm, she was bombarded with a more than adequate look at his flawlessly formed chest, and she couldn’t help but blush again.
Could this man be any more perfect?
Diverting her eyes, she concentrated on looking at his shoulder. “It’s getting infected, Quincy, and since I can’t locate the bullet, I don’t think I can get it out. We’ll need to bandage it and hope for the best.”
“We’ll go straight to my brother’s townhouse, then. There is an excellent surgeon in the city.”
Victoria sighed. “How long will it take us to get to D.C.?”
“About two more days?”
“Shut up!” she exclaimed as she sat back on her ankles.
“Excuse me?”
“Where will we sleep?”
“On the ground,” he said as he carefully pulled his jacket back on.
“We’ll freeze during the night without blankets.” Victoria shivered at the thought. “And what about snakes? I don’t do snakes.”
“Victoria, I will build a fire,” he said evenly. “And there are no snakes.”
Crossing her arms, she challenged, “How do you know that?”
“It’s too cold.”
“Gus!” She almost hit him. “What about during the day, when it’s hot, Einstein?”
“Who’s Einstein?”
“He was a genius.” She waved her hands dismissively. “Not the point. Focus! Snakes.”
“It’ll be daylight, Rebel. We’ll see them coming,” he joked. “Or, slithering, as the case may be.”
She glared at him. “Oh, you’re a comedian now? Can’t we ride straight through?”
“We could ride for longer periods, but we have to be mindful of the horses. They will need to rest, especially in the heat.”
“Quincy, I don’t camp,” she whispered. “Carringtons don’t camp.”
He started to laugh but stopped quickly with a groan. Victoria assumed the action pulled at his shoulder and grinned. “Serves you right for laughing at me.”
“We’re in enemy territory, Victoria,” he rasped. “We don’t have the option of finding an inn or hotel. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Well, can we please ride today until we can’t go any farther and then stop for the night?”
“Yes, little rebel. We can.”
Gathering their things, they remounted once Victoria made sure Quincy could ride and then they took off, one step closer to civilization.
THEY SHARED ONE of Victoria’s three remaining power bars during a brief stop later in the day. Quincy wrinkled his nose as he bit into the dry, bland bar, forcing the last of it down before wiping his hands on his threadbare pants. “People eat these things on purpose?”
Victoria took a dainty bite of her bar before replying, “Yep.”
“Well, I must admit, it’s better than hardtack. Thank you.”
She smiled sympathetically. “You’re welcome.”
Mounting again, the two continued on their way. At one point, they slowed the horses to a walk and Victoria offered him yet more of her strange viands and two more painkillers.
“What do you call these?” He held the small twist in the air.
“Pretzels.”
He saw her smile at him, distracting him enough to forget his confusion. They pushed the horses on once again and didn’t stop until well after dark. “Victoria, we need to stop now. The horses are exhausted.”
Not to mention, my wounds are throbbing.
She slowed her horse. “Okay. Where?”
“Just over that ridge, I think.”
They guided the horses to a protected area and dismounted. Quincy went to find wood for a fire while Victoria rubbed the horses down and let them graze in an open field. They had no oats to feed them, so they were going to have to rely on the old-fashioned way.
“Victoria?” Quincy whispered—loudly.
“Over here,” she yelled.
“Shh. Get over here. Now!” he ordered and heard her mumble as she led the horses back to the covering.
“Bossy much?”
“Someone could have seen you. We’re still not entirely safe.”
“It’s dark, Gus. They would need infrared,” she argued.
“I have a fire started, come and get warm.”
“Won’t the fire be able to be seen?”
“I hope not. I’ve tried to light it under cover, but we’re still taking a chance.”
She made her way to the warmth and held her hands out with a sigh.
“What’s infer red?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Infrared,” she corrected. “They’re special glasses that allow you to see in the dark.”
His eyes widened. “In the dark?”
She nodded.
“Incredible.”
She turned from the fire with a smile. “They are pretty incredible. Hannah has a couple pairs... had a couple of pairs.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Victoria laid a palm over her stomach. “However, I’d like to look at your wounds first, if that’s okay. We should change the bandages one more time.” She spent the next thirty minutes bandaging his shoulder. “Your thigh looks good, Gus. We’ll leave it be, I think.”
Victoria gave him another dose of Advil and split a power bar in two for them to share. He noticed she made his portion bigger than hers, but didn’t comment.
She smiled and broke off a piece of her snack. “How do you feel?”
“Better, Victoria, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I doubt I’ll expire any time soon.”
“Oh, you’re funny.” Victoria leaned her chin in her palm as she watched him chew. “You laugh easily, don’t you?” she observed.
Quincy chuckled. “My family has accused me of risibility in the past, yes.”
“What’s your family like? Do they like to laugh too?”
“Most of them, yes. I have two brothers and a sister.” He smiled as the memories flooded his mind. “My eldest brother, Christopher, is quite serious. We call him ‘Christopher the Big.’”
Victoria chuckled. “Really? Why?”
“I suppose it started because he was the older brother, bigger than all of us up until we grew up, and somewhat bossy.”
“So, he’s serious and large. An ogre of sorts?” Victoria pursed her lips.
Quincy laughed. “No, he’s quite harmless, but yes, he’s serious. My sister, Gwen, on the other hand, is quite funny, as is Jacob.” Taking another bite of the power bar, he forced a swallow. “What about your family?”
Nibbling on her portion, she dropped her head. “My family wouldn’t know how to laugh unless it was attached to a great deal of money, or perhaps a very nice Thoroughbred.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “My family is complicated,” she said quietly and waved her hand as if to dismiss her comment. “Just ignore me.”
* * *
Not offering further explanation, Victoria was relieved when Quincy chose not to press, although he did continue to watch her. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she cleared her throat before asking, “Where do you live, Gus? Sorry, I mean, Quincy.”
“Our family home is in Maryland.”
“Your family home? Do you still live with your parents?”
He shook his head. “No. My brother and I live in Washington.”
“State?”
“Excuse me?”
Victoria shifted uncomfortably as she suddenly remembered the west wasn’t entirely “won” yet. “Never mind. Do you live in D.C.?�
�
“Yes.” He finished his power bar and watched her closely.
“What does your brother do?”
“He works for the war cabinet.”
Victoria couldn’t stop a deep yawn and she caught Quincy’s gentle smile just as her eyes began to droop.
“Let’s try and get some sleep,” he suggested before struggling to stand.
Victoria lurched to her feet, exhaustion forgotten. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Adding wood to the fire.”
“No, you’re not!” She grabbed his arm. “Sit down. I’ll do it.”
Quincy smiled. “I’m perfectly capable of this small task, Victoria.”
“Sit down,” she ordered and waited for him to do as she asked. It took longer than she would have liked for him to acquiesce, but once he did, she added the small logs gathered earlier and stood for a few minutes to ensure the fire would last before lying down as close to it as she could.
Quincy had earlier retrieved the horses’ saddle blankets to lay on the ground, which she thought was a stroke of genius. They would provide some extra warmth and protect them from the cold ground. She curled up with her back to the fire and immediately fell asleep.
An hour later, shivering, she heard Quincy call her name. “Victoria?”
“Hm?”
“Come closer.” He reached out to her. “We’ll warm each other.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she quipped through chattering teeth. She heard him chuckle as she scooted her body toward him. “Why’s it so hot during the day and so freaking cold at night?”
“Take your coat off.”
“No, I’ll freeze!”
“Trust me, little rebel. Take your coat off and slide your arms under my jacket and around my waist. That’s it.” He took her jacket and pulled it back over her to warm her exposed back.
“Are we going to have to get married now?”
He laughed. “Only if you want to.”
A shiver went down her spine at his comment. She tried to shake it off as she rested her forehead in his sternum and her face settled in his chest. He smelled like the woods and a bit of rubbing alcohol. It was wonderful. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It hurts, but I’ll be fine.”
She lifted her head in concern and accidentally knocked his chin with her head. “I’m so sorry!” She pulled a hand out from under his coat to cup his chin. “Are you okay?”
The Rebel Bride Page 4
