Chapter Fifteen
Trajan held Florence’s hand while the doctor stitched his wound.
In truth, he did not know which one of them was offering comfort, because they both seemed to need each other and took heart in holding on to each other. But he thought perhaps Florence needed him more.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. “Be strong for me, love. All right?”
She nodded.
He liked this feeling of caring for someone more than he cared for himself. They were betrothed, and although it had come about for the purpose of protecting Florence from Frampton, it had felt right and good from the start.
“I am going to rub a cleansing astringent on the area of the wound, Your Grace. This might sting a little.”
“I’m ready.” Trajan was inclined to like this doctor, who seemed a practical fellow and not prone to judging others. Apparently, he was the one who had treated his granduncle, and the staff thought very highly of him.
“So am I,” Florence said, tipping her chin up with determination. “What do you need me to do?”
“Just hold His Grace’s hand and offer him comfort,” the doctor said, arching an eyebrow and grinning at Trajan. “As you are already doing.”
“All right.” She cast Trajan another achingly vulnerable smile.
If this adoration was merely an act on her part, then she was a very good actress. But he knew there was no guile or artifice in Florence. She was earnest and honest almost to a fault.
And if he were being honest with himself, he had to admit his feelings for her were beyond anything he had ever imagined possible between two people.
He loved Florence.
There was also quite a bit of soul binding going on, too. That nonsense poets spouted about two hearts becoming one, or two souls recognizing each other through time, might not have been so nonsensical after all.
Blessed saints. The loss of blood had left him a bit lightheaded and not thinking straight.
Also, he was in a lot of pain. The stitches hurt, each one feeling like a pin going through his arm as the doctor sewed him up. Which was exactly what the doctor was doing, repairing the ugly gash with needle and thread.
He kept his mind on Florence. He was going to sweep her into his arms and kiss her breathless as soon as the doctor was finished.
He wanted to do more than merely kiss her. His clothes were mostly off anyway. And his bed was big and comfortable.
He shook his head and sighed. Nothing was going to happen between them while they had a houseful of relatives and a worried staff watching their every move.
Botheration.
Lord, he really wanted her.
“Your Grace,” the doctor said, taking hold of his shoulder as he was about to insert the final stitches into the gash.
“I’m ready.” Trajan turned to Florence, just wanting to look at her and make certain she would stay strong.
The breath caught in his lungs at the look of love she cast him.
The doctor finished stitching him up. He hardly felt a thing now. Was this because he was concentrating on Florence and staring into her eyes of love?
What was happening to him?
“Your Grace, I am going to…”
The doctor was saying something to him, but he was only half listening. “Right, fine.” His thoughts remained on Florence and her beautiful face.
He was going to kiss away her tears as soon as the doctor was finished with him. Yes, kiss her and see what else might come of it. Tonight, and every other night thereafter.
Why should he care what anyone said or thought?
And if not tonight, then they would be alone together in London soon enough.
Was it not a good time to bind their love? Drop the letters with the princess. Obtain the marriage license. Marry Florence. Make her his.
Not necessarily in that order.
That the two of them—
Ouch!
“Bloody blazes!”
The doctor had just poured a fiery liquid onto his wound that now had his body in flames, and not in any good way. That burned!
Of course, this was what the doctor had been trying to warn him about. He ought to have listened instead of gawking at Florence like a besotted idiot.
“Trajan,” she said softly, putting a hand to his cheek.
He gave a groaning laugh. “I’m fine.”
She smiled at him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, now that the doctor has taken care of you. Sebastian and I will help you into bed, and then I’ll order some broth with marrow brought up for you.
It is good for restoring your blood. You’ve lost quite a bit of it.
Mrs. Palmer has beef stock already made for tomorrow’s menu. It will do you good to have some now.”
Who knew that Florence had any nurturing in her? He liked that she was fussing over him.
But what a week this had been, and it was only halfway done. Betrothed, threatened, and shot, when all he had meant to do that first day was take a morning walk. He should have walked in the opposite direction.
Well, no. That would have been disastrous. He would have found Florence dead in his woods because the girl did not know how to lie her way out of any situation. Frampton would have confronted her and killed her.
He shook out of the thought and concentrated instead on the splendid kiss they had shared on the beach. That kiss made up for all the turmoil that had ensued…almost.
There was no rest to be had until Florence was safe.
But would she ever be safe while Frampton walked free and his evil doings were not exposed?
Trajan had to give this serious thought. Frampton had to be stopped.
What were they to do next? And how could he think straight when Florence was staring at him with big, soft eyes?
“Your Grace,” the doctor said, regaining his attention and proceeding to instruct him on the care of his wound.
Florence and Sebastian were listening attentively, too. Good, because Trajan realized those instructions were going in one ear and out the other. He was not at his best right now and could not seem to hold anything in his brain.
“How many stitches in all?” Sebastian asked.
“Twenty,” the doctor said, surprising Trajan, for he did not realize the wound had necessitated that many. Well, he had been stubbornly ignoring his injury while off chasing that assailant.
Florence was tearing up again.
“I forbid you to cry,” he told her in a soft and loving growl.
She laughed as she nodded and her tears still fell.
“The wound is clean,” the doctor assured him, “and you should make a full recovery within a few days. Get a good night’s rest, Your Grace.
Take it easy tomorrow. Cancel anything strenuous.
No morning ride, no lifting anything heavier than a teapot.
No driving a rig. You have plenty of staff who can help you with anything you require.
If you must leave home, then have someone drive you wherever you need to go.
Although I would urge you to remain in bed all day tomorrow. ”
Trajan nodded. “I’ve nothing urgent. I’ll do as you suggest.”
He hated to lie to the doctor, but could not risk his travel plans being reported to Frampton.
He cast Florence and Sebatian warning looks as he began to embellish. “I had planned to take Miss Newton and her aunt on a tour of Weymouth, perhaps a picnic and a fossil hunt, but this can wait for another day.”
“Yes, put it off for a day or two. Summon me at once if you develop a fever.”
Florence frowned. “Is it likely?”
“No, I believe His Grace’s wound has been thoroughly cleansed. But this happens sometimes.”
“I’ll be fine,” Trajan insisted.
Florence was still frowning. “I understand. Just do not be stubborn or needlessly heroic. Your healing is more important than anything to me.”
“Give me a kiss, Florence. You’re the best medicine any man can have.”
She blushed. Sebastian and the doctor chuckled.
But this was the last bit of merriment Trajan felt, because the fact remained that Frampton had meant to kill Florence.
How was he to protect her?