Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Fifteen

L i-Na was no stranger to a sickroom. She had often cared for the Zhong daughter even when she’d been just as ill. She’d learned the basics then and had brought that knowledge to London with her. But she’d never been asked to serve at a man’s bedside. She had seen the anatomy, of course, and had heard it discussed enough among the Lyon’s Den upstairs ladies. But tonight, Lord Daniel was in her sole care, and she wasn’t at all sure what to do.

He was weak and feverish, but he needed to be out of his dirty clothing. She started with his heavy boots, pulling them off him with unsteady hands. She wasn’t embarrassed. She was tired. The wheelbarrow had been difficult enough. Carrying him into the castle and to his bed had been the hardest physical labor she’d ever done.

Her main concern was cooling Lord Daniel’s fever. She could tell by touch that it was dangerously high, and he needed to be wiped with a cool cloth. That would be her next task. She would have happily sent for someone to help her, but she had no means to contact anyone. No footman or maid to send with a missive to a doctor who might live miles upon miles away. She was alone here until Mrs. Hocking came tomorrow, and she had never felt the isolation so keenly.

Or such freedom.

She had never touched a man intimately. She had never had the luxury to study the bones and muscles of a mature man. She had never examined what was covered, and now she had no choice.

She began with what she could manage. His boots were off, but now she tugged at his wet stockings until his feet were revealed. The Chinese looked closely at feet, and though she had never thought a man’s feet very attractive, she readily noted that Lord Daniel had strong, healthy bones. His joints were straight, the form pleasing, and…and perhaps even a man’s feet could be handsome.

She focused next on his coat and shirt. He was a big man, and she hadn’t the strength to move him around in order to pull them off. Which meant she had to cut them off his body. And though that grieved her, she knew he was a wealthy man with a full wardrobe. He would understand.

Such were the thoughts she distracted herself with as she found scissors in his workroom before she cut his attire. They did little to absorb her as she revealed his body, and soon she was looking at him as an artist thinks about form.

Broad shoulders created from a broad stroke of collarbone across to the top of the arm. Heavy muscles in his arms like more thick lines that tapered and thinned until the elegant stretch of his fingers. He had scars, she realized. A white line across his right biceps of a wound long healed. One finger had a thicker knuckle, no doubt from an injury long ago, but that did not detract as much as emphasize the beauty in the rest of his hand.

She lay his arms along his torso while her gaze greedily wove around his chest. A fine taper of chest hair emphasized the breadth of body, and she was fascinated by the whirl that circled the flat disc of his nipples. She lay her hands flat upon him, feeling for his heartbeat and measuring the strength of his breath.

Both were fast from the fever. Thankfully, she did not hear much noise in his lungs. And now it was time to cut away the rest of his clothes.

She ran her hands down his sides and beneath his waistband. She was searching for the button fastenings, but instead, found the hard jut of his hips and the narrowness of his waist. There was little fat on this man, and that worried her. He might need the reserves to fight this illness.

She found the fastenings and unbuttoned what she could, but that did not help her pull it off his body. In the end, she resorted to the scissors again. She cut away everything at once. He was becoming restless as his fever climbed and she needed to cool him quickly.

She focused on her task as the corded length of his thighs bulked and released beneath her hands. His knees were like a broad dot of bone that stroked two ways—up to his hips and down to his feet. His thighs, though, added to the upward stroke. His muscles were thickly defined, each a heavy sinew that wound upward.

And here she could see a man fully naked. She noted the wiry hair and his large organ, heavy and straight. Even here, Lord Daniel was broad and strong. A solid line that had weight even in this part of him.

He fascinated her.

She tugged away the last of his wet clothing and then began the work of cooling his fevered body. She trailed a wet cloth across every inch of him. And in so doing, she studied him, she caressed him, and she learned that—physically—he was a very powerful man.

And now, finally, all she had overheard from the women at the Lyon’s Den made more sense. She experienced for the first time how it felt to be attracted to a man’s body. And as she worked, she relived all that she had heard from those ladies. And she imagined herself doing such things with him.

It was enough to keep her wide awake through the long night.

By the time Mrs. Hocking arrived, Li-Na was exhausted. Lord Daniel’s fever had continued to climb. His cough was worse, and he had not kept down the weak tea she’d managed to make. The woman had taken one look, covered her nose and mouth with her apron, and said, “I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Sometime later, the countess arrived. Li-Na was wiping down his lordship’s legs when she heard a gasp. She was slow to turn, her mind feeling dull, when the woman came into her line of sight.

“He should be covered!” the lady cried as she twitched the coverlet over her brother-in-law.

Li-Na pulled it back. “He is too hot. He must cool down.”

The countess drew breath to argue, but another voice interrupted.

“She’s right. Let him cool.” It was Mrs. Hocking, her apron still over her nose and mouth as she stood in the doorway. When Li-Na turned to her, the woman continued. “He’ll be fine for a bit. Doctor’ll be here by nightfall. Though the witch woman is closer.”

“No,” the countess said, her expression stern. “I can just imagine what my father would say about me if he found out I took medicine from a witch instead of a doctor.”

Mrs. Hocking shrugged as if she’d expected as much. “I’ll make some broth. You get some rest.” Then she turned and walked out.

Li-Na stared after the woman, struggling to get her mind to where it needed to be.

“She’s right,” added the countess. “I’m here. You can rest.”

“You’ll keep washing him? He needs to be cooled.”

The countess bit her lip, her gaze jumping back and forth between Li-Na and her brother-in-law. In the end, she grabbed the wet rag and flopped it on top of his member.

“That will keep it proper,” she said firmly. “I will wash the rest of him.”

That would work.

“If his fever keeps building, you must wet a sheet and lay it over him completely. Then rewet it as it dries.”

The lady’s eyes widened. “You think he is that ill? You think—” She cut off her words, her expression bleak.

Li-Na remembered that less than a year ago, the countess had lost her husband to a wasting disease. How terrifying this must be to her. Lord Daniel was her only advocate in a world that would not listen to a woman. If she’d been less tired, she would have minded her words. But she was exhausted, and the thought was spoken aloud.

“He will fight his illness as fiercely as he has fought for you. If I had someone like him, I would never have been chained in a ship and sent away from everything I ever knew.”

The lady’s gaze sharpened. “I wasn’t asking if he is a good man. I know he is. I want to know if he will d—” She couldn’t say the last word, but Li-Na knew the question. Would Lord Daniel die?

“My answer was to tell you to fight for him as fiercely as he fights for you. Keep him cool. Give him teas to settle his stomach. Do you know what kind?”

“The doctor will.”

That was good. She should go sleep now. She had done her best when she had no help, but now Lord Daniel’s people were with him. They would see to his care. She could retreat into the shadows and return to her tasks as normal.

Except she found she did not want to leave. She wanted to stand beside him and watch over his rest. She wanted to make sure he could drink the broth and keep it down. She wanted to be with him until he was strong again. This man who had shown her the stars and caused her to feel again had somehow become important to her.

She headed back to the bed. “I can stay—”

“Go,” the woman ordered in a tone that said she would not be crossed. “I will take care of him now.”

Li-Na nodded and retreated. It was the logical thing to do. She was exhausted and they were here to take over his care while she rested. And yet her feet were slow, and her heart pushed her to go back. It wasn’t possible. As soon as she crossed the threshold into the workroom, the countess firmly shut his lordship’s door and threw the lock. There was no choice now but to go to her bedroom and rest.

She resented every moment of it.

And when she slept, she dreamed of a night sky torn apart by storms.

She woke hours later to the sound of the countess’s voice. Li-Na heard anxiety in the words, then the impatient tones of a man who did not wish to be questioned. There were many such men in London, and she did not like the idea of such a man here. Especially if he oversaw Lord Daniel’s care.

Li-Na leapt to her feet—not even bothering with her shoes—and rushed into Lord Daniel’s room. Thankfully, the door had been unlocked while she rested, and she was able to push her way inside. What she saw stopped her cold.

The countess stood before a tall man with a large moustache and an irritated expression. In his hands, he held the implements for bleeding a patient. Over his shoulder stood the vicar, or so she assumed by his vestments. He held a Bible in one hand as he extended the other.

“Come away, my lady,” he said.

But the countess was shaking her head. “You will not bleed him,” she said firmly. “You did that to Peder and he got worse. Every time, he got worse.”

“I understand your concern,” said the doctor. “When a patient does not improve, one often wants to blame the treatment. But I promise you, this is for the best.”

Li-Na had heard of such a thing—bleeding a patient of his ill humors. It sounded ridiculous to her, but she was not a doctor and this was not her place. Even in China, she would not have been allowed to speak back to a man who gave medicines.

But one look at the doctor had her stomach turning with anger. His nose was in the air, he glared at the countess as she refused to allow him close to Lord Daniel, and he used his height to full advantage as he snapped out his words.

“You are being hysterical, my lady.” He turned and snapped his finger at the vicar. “Help me, here. Give her some laudanum.”

Li-Na did not know the medical customs of the English, but she would bet her life that this man was more interested in his authority than in healing his patient. And that was enough to get her to stand with the countess. But rather than argue directly with the man, she used strategies she had seen employed in the Lyon’s Den with unruly gentlemen. Beginning with an appeal to their vanity.

“Oh, my goodness,” she gasped. “You are a doctor!” She put all the admiration she could into her voice as he turned to look at her. “You are a learned and intelligent man, I can just tell,” she said, dropping into her Abacus Woman whisper. Then she let worship fill her expression.

“Who are you?” he said with only the barest softening in his tone.

“I am his lordship’s bookkeeper,” she said as she dropped her eyes in a modest display. “I will make sure you receive proper payment. Your opinion is most prized.” She smiled. “Come out into the grand hallway. I will get your money now.”

“I must administer the treatment,” he said firmly.

“You will not—” the countess began, but Li-Na stepped physically between the lady and the doctor.

“Don’t be distressed, my lady,” she said as she used her body to press the doctor back. Then she looked up as if awestruck. “You are surely well-educated in this matter.”

“Of course, I am.”

She nodded vigorously even as she crowded the man such that he would back up. He didn’t. Apparently, he enjoyed having a woman press up against him. And though it made her skin crawl, she was able to gesture him to back out of the room.

“Please, please,” she whispered. “I will help you with the mistress.” Then she turned to the other man in the room with a wide smile. “My lady wishes prayer now. Vicar, you must help her with this. Prayer is the best medicine at the moment.”

The doctor stiffened. “It most certainly is not!”

“I know!” Li-Na whispered. Then she pointed out of the bedroom. “I will help you!” she said as she continued to back the doctor out of the room. “Pray, vicar. Please pray with us!” By which she meant with the countess because she continued to push the doctor out the door.

By the time she and the doctor were outside, the vicar’s solemn tones could be heard. “Let us bow our heads, my lady…”

Excellent. Another man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice. He would be in there praying for a very long time. Hopefully long enough for her to convince this supercilious doctor to leave.

“Now see here,” the doctor said in imperious tones. “I must be allowed to give treatment to his lordship. There’s been fever in the village, and he likely picked it up from helping one of them. The children do fine with it, but the adults sicken as he has. It’s a touchy business and so I must cup him!”

Li-Na’s heart leapt at that news. “The adults recover?”

“Usually. But they would recover faster if I cupped them. So let me be about my work.”

Bleeding a person never helped, as far as she had seen in London. Indeed, she thought the English practice exceedingly strange.

“I will help you,” she lied. “I will convince her ladyship to let you cup his lordship.” She smiled and ducked her head in apparent modesty. “Sometimes it takes a woman to convince another woman.” She dropped her voice. “You understand that she is very powerful here. If you upset her, what will she say about you? It can be very hurtful when a lady says bad things about you.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.

“Her husband died under your care. And if his lordship does, then what will she say back in London about you? What will she say here?”

“His lordship is very sick.”

The words shuddered through Li-Na, leaving terror in their wake, but that only strengthened her resolve to get a true healer here. One that cared more about his patient than his reputation. Best to get the man paid now and off the premises.

“Mrs. Hocking,” she said. “Is there a meat pie for the doctor? You make the best pies. He should have one while I get his payment.” She gazed up at him as if he were a god. “Two shillings for your troubles.” That was a great deal more than any London doctor received. “And a promise that I will convince her ladyship that you know best.”

He folded his arms. “Then I will wait. Make sure she comes to her senses soon.”

“Perhaps you should tell Mrs. Hocking what should be done for his lordship. She will help me convince the countess. Servants can be very persuasive, you know. Of course, you know. You are a brilliant man.”

It had been a long time since she’d had to grovel like this. Not since she was a servant in China had she flattered a man until her eyes rolled of their own accord. Meanwhile, she ducked her head and tiptoed through the vicar’s prayers into the workroom. She’d found his lordship’s lock box on her first morning here. He didn’t even lock it. She pulled out two shillings and quietly grumbled at the cost. Ridiculous to pay a man this much just to leave because he was an idiot, but such was the way with men sometimes. And women, too.

She made it back out to the doctor, but she spoke to Mrs. Hocking. “The doctor brought his own carriage, yes? It is ready for him?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Hocking said. “My eldest is outside caring for the horses. We knew they’d be coming.”

“Good thinking,” she said, meaning it. Then she held out the shillings to the doctor as she walked out of the castle into the courtyard. If he wanted his money, he would have to follow her.

He did. In the end, she had him up in his cart with the reins in his hands before she gave him the coins. “I’ll summon you as soon as I can. I’ll make the mistress see.”

She didn’t wait for him to cluck at his horse. She slapped it on the butt and made it start forward. She bowed to him as he left, giving him this last show of false respect. Then she turned and headed back into the castle, only to run straight into the Vicar who was watching her with a heavy expression.

“Oh, sir!” she enthused. “Have you finished praying already?”

“Who will you turn to now that the doctor has left? He is the man of medicine here.”

“Is there another doctor near?”

“None.”

She nodded. When a man was useless, there was usually a woman who was more than capable. “I will speak with the countess. I am sure after your prayers that his lordship will recover.”

He shook his head, disapproval in every line. “I have another family to visit,” the vicar said, his tone dark. “Five souls, all feverish like this.”

“Has anyone died from it?”

“Not yet,” he said darkly. “But one never knows with sickness. I will return this evening, and if I deem his lordship is failing, then I will bring the doctor back.”

Li-Na bowed her head as the vicar headed for his horse. As she stood with her head bowed and her hands clasped, she evaluated the heat of the day and the position of the sun. If the vicar returned this evening, they had precious little time to help Lord Daniel. And by all that was holy, she would see that he survived.

She waited long enough to hear the vicar mount his horse, then she turned and headed inside the castle. She met Mrs. Hocking in the great room and didn’t mince words. “Who is the medicine woman here? The one you went to see for the fever powder for your son?”

Mrs. Hocking nodded grimly. “I’ll get her for you, but you should know. People think she’s a witch and will say you truck with witches.”

She guessed that an accusation of witchcraft could be dangerous, but Li-Na didn’t care. “Will her powder bring down his lordship’s fever?”

“It helped my son.”

“Then they can call me a witch. I don’t care.”