Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Will he live?”
“I am unsure at this point. He is losing a lot of blood and—” he cleared his throat “—he is not in the best of health.”
“Take him to the inn and see to it. Not here. Return when you are done.”
He bowed. “My lord.”
“Take me home, Edward. I need to see my wife.”
“With pleasure.”
We waited as Barnett was loaded on the cart and it rambled away.
“Can you ride?”
“Yes.” I was determined to return as I departed. Head held high, shoulders straight, my pride intact. Besides, it would give Maddie great comfort to see me riding to the house.
At Knight’s side, I shook my head. “I believe I require assistance.”
Edward chuckled. “It will be gladly given, my lord.”
Once in the saddle, I grimaced again. “Damn it all to hell, that hurts.”
“Lady Wheaton will tend you.”
I thought of my wife’s gentle touch. All at once, my adrenaline left me, and I felt the sheer magnitude of what had occurred hit me. My body seemed to deflate, and I felt my limbs shaking.
“Alexander?”
“I think perhaps I might—”
I couldn’t speak, unable to form words.
Edward grabbed my reins. “Shut your eyes, and for God’s sake, don’t fall off your mount.”
It wasn’t the glorious return I had imagined. I was barely able to remain upright. I heard Maddie’s voice, strained and upset. Edward’s assurances. I opened my eyes, meeting Maddie’s terrified gaze.
“I am well, my love.”
“You, sir,” she replied, her eyes bright with unshed tears, “are a liar and an imbecile.”
I wanted to laugh. To hold her and assure her that all was settled. But it was difficult to achieve when my legs refused to hold me up and I required Edward’s assistance and his strong grip to get me inside.
“Take him to his chamber,” Maddie ordered.
Upstairs, I was shocked when I realized it was my wife who tore away my sleeve. She muttered and tutted while attending me, ignoring my low groans of pain and discomfort.
“The baron?” she asked Edward, who was assisting her.
“Alexander shot him after he took a second attempt at hitting him.”
“I thought you said it would be one shot!” she exclaimed, horrified.
“We did.”
Her eyes grew round with anger, and she muttered something under her breath. It was most unladylike and something I was certain she had heard me say.
“That pigeon-livered cad. As useless as a flaccid cock.”
I was shocked and delighted at her anger and choice of words.
“Dr. Atwood is seeing to him at the inn,” I informed her. “I did not want him in this house.”
“Good. But he should be here tending you.”
“It’s just a scratch, my sweet,” I assured her. “Although if you insist on wrenching my arm one more time, it may detach.”
“Hush.”
I gasped as she poured something on my arm, the burn almost as bad as the wound.
“Damnation!” I yelled. “What was that? Brimstone?”
“Whiskey. It will clean the wound. Be still.”
“The whiskey is for my throat, not my arm,” I argued, but did as she requested. I wasn’t used to this demeanor from Maddie. No-nonsense. In charge. It was rather unsettling.
Dr. Atwood walked in, and I heaved a sigh of relief. He would take over now. Except he looked at what Maddie was doing and nodded in agreement. Even the herbs she had brought out from the healer in the village. Together, they wrapped my arm, and Dr. Atwood stood back, satisfied. “We will watch it and make sure it drains and does not become infected. I believe your wife has this well in hand.”
Maddie lifted my head, letting me sip some liquid. It was sweet and light with a slightly bitter aftertaste, but the cool was welcome on my throat.
“And the coward?” Edward demanded.
“I dug out the bullet and left him to his butler and solicitor.” He shook his head. “I asked the innkeeper’s wife to check on him and send for me if needed.” He met my eyes. “I turned after the first shot, thinking it was over. I saw what he did. You had no choice but to fire, my lord. He was aiming to kill you—of that, I have no doubt.”
Maddie gasped, and I reached out my hand to comfort her. The room seemed too hot and bright, and I struggled to reach her, the distance seeming to grow between us.
“I believe he will rest. The draught you gave him will help,” Dr. Atwood stated, nodding. “I will look in on him tomorrow.”
My eyes refused to stay open. I fought the heaviness, needing to talk to Maddie. To reassure her. I was home. I was fine. I would heal, and we would move on from this unpleasantness.
But I lost the battle and drifted.
CHAPTER 22
MADELEINE
“You should rest, my lady.”
The voice, with the gentle French accent, was Geraldine’s, interrupting the vigil I kept over my sleeping husband. Seated in a chair at his bedside where I had been ever since he had arrived this morning, I turned to find her hovering at the threshold, a look of concern etched on her face.