Lord of Fates: A Complete Historical Regency Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by K. J. Jackson

  Garek paused, staring at them. Months. It had been months since he had looked at them.

  “What? What are those for?” Miss Silverton’s left hand flew up, tucking under her upper right arm to hide.

  “Just a scalpel and tweezers. I am not about to dig into your skin with my fingernails.” His fingers wagged in a curl, motioning her to him. “Your hand.”

  “But that is a blade.” She glared at him, her hand solidly buried and not moving.

  “This will not hurt.”

  “No?”

  Garek shrugged. “Possibly a little. But it is better than leaving a shard in your hand and having it fester, then move up your arm and eventually kill you. That happens, and who will tear down the abbey?”

  Her frown deepened, but her hand slowly appeared. Garek grabbed it, tilting it to the bright ray of sunlight that was fighting through the tops of the trees.

  Just as he suspected, a multitude of grey shards were embedded into her palm. Some were stuck half out, some he could only see below the surface of her skin. Cradling her hand, he picked up the tweezers and made quick work of the shards that could easily be pulled free.

  Garek set the tweezers on the rock next to her and picked up the scalpel. Her arm twitched away, but his fingers clamped onto her wrist, holding her hand in place, resting on the inside of his forearm. “I will not cut deep. Just surface skin to get to the stone. This should not hurt too much.”

  With a deep sigh, she nodded, swallowing hard enough for Garek to hear. Her face scrunched, turning from him the second the small blade went onto her skin. Garek gently peeled away layers of skin above one shard until there was enough stone to grip.

  He continued on—five, six, seven shards freed without a whimper from Miss Silverton. She stayed as still as the boulder she sat upon until her face turned back in his direction.

  “Your hands are delicate, Mr. Harrison. I would not have thought it for how you swung that sledgehammer.”

  Garek didn’t answer, his concentration solely on capturing the tip of the last stubborn shard. If he didn’t get it, he would have to slice deeper, and that, he wanted to avoid. He clamped the tweezers and yanked.

  “Uuh. I rescind my comment. That was not at all delicate.”

  He looked up at her. “But the pain was short?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then my hands were delicate.” He stood. “Come down to the water. I need to clean this to make sure I got all of them, and then on to your right hand.”

  Miss Silverton’s left hand checked and the other hand washed, Garek was halfway through pulling the stone shards from her right palm when she squirmed. He paused for a moment but kept his eyes on her hand, giving her a chance to resettle.

  “How do you know to do this, Mr. Harrison?” she asked, taking a deep breath. “Are you a surgeon? You have the tools.”

  “I trained to be a physician, but after I took the Royal College exams and began to see patients, I realized that curing the occasional cough was not what I had hoped for. So I trained to be a surgeon.”

  “That is an odd choice, to descend from a gentleman to a laborer.”

  “Not for one that has witnessed what I have.” Garek shrugged, his focus diverting to pluck at another stone. “I apprenticed for years with a man who was both a physician and a surgeon before I had to leave to…to make my way north.”

  “Are you visiting someone in the area?”

  He glanced up to her face, then bowed his head, attacking the next shard. “No. I am in the area for work. I was told Farlington would have opportunity, but then I became lost in these woods.”

  “Farlington? Yes, you are lost. Farlington is a day’s ride west and another day’s ride north of here.”

  Garek pulled a stone splinter free, shaking his head. “I have never been good with directions. I had hoped these woods would be the end of the journey.”

  “Instead, I have only slowed you.” Her left fingers scratched at the linen he had wrapped around her left palm. “Although the selfish part of me is pleased you made such good progress on those cornerstones of the abbey. Your pile of rubble was far larger than mine. You work much faster than I could ever hope.”

  “I am also half again your size, Miss Silverton.” Garek blew free a fleck of dried blood, searching for any last shards. “You made plenty of progress. More so than I ever imagined a gentle woman could.”

  “Gentle?”

  “Yes, your clothes, your speech—I do not imagine you are a laborer?” Garek looked up to see her face had gone pale, losing all the pink from the cold.

  She shook her head, pushing him aside and jolting to her feet. “Excuse me, please. This…I have not been in my right mind. I never should have allowed you to stay…to touch me. Please, forgive me. You must think me wanton…a harlot. I did not mean to pull you into a compromising situation.”

  Her feet shuffled in a wide circle around him, but Garek caught her wrist before she could escape. He stood. “Please, Miss Silverton. I do not think you a harlot. Sit. Let me wrap this hand.”

  “No. It would not be appropriate.”

  “Appropriate? We have just spent half the night swinging hammers together—and you cannot afford another minute so I can wrap your hand properly?”

  She stared up at him, her eyes wavering. “One minute.”

  “One minute. For purely medicinal purposes.”

  She sat, offering her hand up with a tight, acquiescing smile.

  One last check for missed slivers of stone and Garek started wrapping her hand. “Tell me, Miss Silverton, why have you not been in your right mind?”

  Her head shaking, her eyes swung to the half-frozen stream. “Anger. It consumes my brain. I forget about everything, including manners, when it is in my mind. I only see the red and I cannot control it.” She looked to him, her blue eyes softening. “I apologize again. It was very kind of you to stop to assist me last night, and even kinder to tend to my hands. I do wish to pay you for your kindness.”

  “Again, it will be refused.” Garek tied off the linen along the back of her hand.

  A visible shiver ran through her body.

  “You are cold?”

  “Yes. Suddenly very much so.”

  Garek wrapped his tools into the leather wallet and stood, picking up his satchel. “Let us go back. I saw you had a cloak by the abbey.”

  Her arms clasped to her body for warmth, Miss Silverton stood and moved past him, and Garek fell in step beside her.

  A few paces and Garek looked down at her. Her cheeks were flush again, but this time it appeared to be embarrassment tinting them pink. Even though he had asked numerous times throughout the night without an answer, he was going to try the obvious question one more time. “Why do you want to tear the abbey down?”

  Her eyes stayed downward on the frosted trail. “Bad things happened there.”

  His imagination sped, scenario after scenario constituting “bad things” rushing through his mind. Bad things happening to an innocent. Instant rage. Rage he had to quell—for she looked innocent, Miss Silverton, but what did he truly know of her other than she liked to swing a hammer at a stone building in the middle of the night?

  He stopped, shaking free the horrors in his mind. Miss Silverton halted, looking up at him.

  He cleared his throat. “Bad things? To you?”

  Her head bowed and she started walking again. “To my father. To my sister. He was killed in there. She was alive…holding on. I found them. Found them in the blood.”

  “You found your father dead?”

  She nodded.

  “I am sorry for your loss.” Garek reached up, setting his fingers on her shoulder.

  Her head snapped up at the touch, eyes wide at him. She didn’t fully jerk away, but she did dip awkwardly, angling her shoulder away from his hand. She either didn’t want comfort, or was suddenly afraid of him. He hoped it was the former.

  His hand dropped to his side. “And your sister—she is alive?”
<
br />   “Barely.”

  “She is ill?”

  “She has not recovered.” Miss Silverton glanced up at him, her arms tightening around her body. “It has been a month. When I found her there were gashes—deep—in her leg, and they became infected. Green pus. Fever that will not yield. I have feared she was dead too many times since then to count.”

  “What is being done for her?”

  “Our family physician tends to her. There are times when I think she is mending, going to be well. But at other times…” She shook her head, her look drifting to the abbey coming into view through the woods. “Our physician bleeds her, but it does not appear to help. I have told him to cease, but he insists it is the only way.”

  “He bleeds her?”

  “Yes.” Her face blanched, her eyes closing as another shiver quaked through her body. “The disgusting leeches. To see them wiggle on her body. It makes me queasy just thinking about the repulsive little suckers.”

  “And you have asked him to stop?” Garek could not hide the edge in his voice.

  “I have.”

  “You are right to do so. Insist again. And again. And again. Insist until he stops, Miss Silverton.”

  Her blue eyes left the path to center on him. “What do you know of it? Did the doctor you apprenticed with not bleed patients?”

  “No. And I have seen far too many people nearly bled to death by the practice. The man I learned from did not believe in the method, and I agree. In most cases, it appears to do far more harm than good. You need to see that he stops the bloodletting and he must drain the infection from the leg properly. If he is above the labor of it, then find a surgeon to do so.”

  They walked to the side of the abbey and Garek picked up Miss Silverton’s dark cloak, snapping it free of frost before setting it about her shoulders.

  “Thank you.” Fastening the front clasp, she blinked hard and then wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her wrist.

  “Is something in your eye?”

  She wiped her eye again. “Maybe. One of the sparks, something flew at my eye hours ago. It is an annoyance that comes and goes.”

  “May I?”

  Miss Silverton nodded, and Garek set his satchel down and grabbed her shoulders, spinning her so the brightest rays of sunlight aimed at her eye. His thumb under her chin, he tilted her head upward, searching her left eye. The light lit up her eye, making her blue iris sparkle, and Garek lost himself for a moment, transfixed by the shimmer and forgetting all about looking for a rogue shard.

  He caught himself. Focus. He had to focus.

  “Blink.”

  She blinked several times, and then he saw it, the smallest sliver just below her upper eyelashes dragging down across her eye.

  “Would you like my tweezers or my fingernails coming at your eye?”

  “Can you get it with just your fingernails?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then no tweezers. As gentle as you were, I am not looking to repeat that scene by the stream anytime soon.”

  “It hurt more than you indicated?”

  “You did not see? I squirmed the whole time. And I could not watch what you were doing.”

  “Do not blink.” Garek pinched the sliver, extracting it from her eyelid. He flicked it from his fingers. “You should have said something. I could have been gentler with your hands. Better?”

  Blinking rapidly, she nodded as she smiled at him. “Thank you. And know that you could not have been any gentler than you were, and I am grateful. I merely do not take pain that well.”

  “So the next time you are out here tearing this place down, you will wear proper gloves?”

  She chuckled. “I will.” Looking around, her eyes settled on his horse. “I do feel as though I need to insist on paying you.”

  “Point me in the proper direction of Farlington and that will be payment enough.”

  Miss Silverton stepped past him, going to the back corner of the abbey. She pointed into the woods. “This trail will take you north to the main road—maybe an hour’s ride—but it does not veer, so it will deliver you to the road. Go left, follow the road to the west, and you should hit the crossroad north to Farlington by the end of the day. It is well marked.”

  Though he had only known her for a handful of hours, it panged his gut to have to leave her presence. But he inclined his head at Miss Silverton. “Then I thank you, kindly. I do hope your sister recovers well, Miss Silverton.”

  Garek gathered his great coat and satchel and went to collect his horse. Miss Silverton stood rooted to her spot by the back of the abbey, watching him without a word.

  His foot in the stirrup, Garek was halfway up his horse when her voice, sweet, cut through the silence.

  “Wait, Mr. Harrison.”

  Garek looked over his shoulder at her, dropping back to the ground.

  She moved across the clearing to him. “Mr. Harrison, what kind of work are you looking for in Farlington? Are you to set up practice as a physician there?”

  He hesitantly shook his head. “No. No practice. I am not particular of the work, just that there is some.”

  She took another step closer, her neck craning up to him, her light blue eyes on fire. “I am, quite honestly, a little—no, a lot—desperate for my sister, Mr. Harrison. I need her to live. And our physician does not seem capable of bringing her back to me. You are the only one who has offered me any other suggestions as to her health. As to what I can do to help her.”

  “And?”

  Taking a deep breath, her eyes implored. “Stay. Please stay, Mr. Harrison. I will pay you. Whatever you need. I do not think I can get our physician to stop what he is doing by myself. He dismisses me—anything I say. I need help. And you have training. You can help her.”

  Garek’s mouth set into a grim line. What Miss Silverton asked—tricky waters to wade into, he knew. The matters of life and death—what people believed a doctor could truly do for them—were constant battles between reality and hope. Thorny indeed. And it was a battle he had seen lost far too many times.

  He didn’t want to ask. Didn’t even want to consider what she suggested. Do not get involved—advice, pounded into his head for years.

  But his mouth opened, words falling before he could stop them. “Why do you believe I can help her, Miss Silverton? You know nothing of my surgical knowledge. I merely pulled a few splinters from your skin.”

  She stared at him, searching—searching his soul if he was to guess at what she sought.

  “It is your eyes, Mr. Harrison.” Her tranquil voice went low, reaching up to wrap him in its softness. “I have seen it in your eyes. I have seen more humanity, more compassion in your eyes in these past minutes than I have ever seen in our physician.”

  “Compassion does not heal people, Miss Silverton. If it did, she would already be well—you would have made it so.”

  “I need her to live, Mr. Harrison.” She reached out to grip his arm, the linen wrap across her palm pressing into him. “And I am willing to do anything to make that happen. Anything. I am even willing to chance the fate of a random meeting with a stranger in the middle of the night. And I am willing to trust the compassion I have seen in you. The light in your eyes. Once you commit, you will make it happen. I can see that. You will bring her back to me.”

  “I cannot perform miracles, Miss Silverton.”

  “I am not demanding miracles, Mr. Harrison. Only a possibility—give me that—the possibility that you can find a way to heal her.” Her hand tightened on his arm. Garek could feel the desperation in her fingers. “Please, Mr. Harrison, help me. I need her to live.”

  He stared at her, jaw clenching. If he could not help her sister…he could already see the destruction he would be forced to witness. Destruction he did not want to be a part of.

  But she only asked for possibility. For hope.

  Do not get involved.

  He swallowed hard. As much as it unsettled him, he could not deny her that—deny her hope. />
  Garek nodded. “I will stay. I will come with you.”

  Miss Silverton’s eyes closed, and she nearly crumpled with relief right before him. Only her hand, her grip on him, held her upright.

  “But I warn you, Miss Silverton, if your sister is not long for this earth, I can only ease her suffering. I cannot make her live.”

  “I understand.” Her fingers slipped from his arm as her blue eyes opened to him. “You, Mr. Harrison, are the very best thing that has ever come across me in the middle of the night.”

  He chuckled. “Shall I grab your hammers?”

  She nodded. Garek went to the side of the abbey and picked up both hammers, heaving them up to balance them on his shoulder.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “I will follow you.”

  Miss Silverton started off into the woods, and Garek grabbed the reins of his horse, following. He watched the back of her light brown hair swing with her gait, reminding him again of her natural radiance. But that was not the thing that gave him pause, made him question every step he took in her footprints.

  No, it was her voice. Her voice alone.

  The most alarming, beautiful sound to have ever floated into his ears.

  A voice that could take him to hell and back, if he let it.

  { Chapter 2 • Marquess of Fortune }

  Her hand on the front door knob, Lily paused, trying to ignore the rotting ache in her belly. She did not want to go inside. Did not want to face the unyielding dread.

  Every moment spent destroying the abbey had helped dissipate the constant gnaw at her stomach. But just as before, every step she took back toward the viscount’s main residence reversed the respite. There was one desperate second at the stables, as they situated Mr. Harrison’s horse, that she thought of running, disappearing into the world. Moving on from this place. Moving on from the horror her life had become.

  She gave herself a slight shake, exhaling her held breath. She could not do that to Brianna. Could not leave her in the hands of the physician and Mr. Sneedly. Her sister would be dead within a week if she did.