AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Alessandro watched intently as the ancient man examined Mélisande’s wound.
“No sign of infection,” muttered Sloane. “The fever is likely due to something else. But the wounds will fester if left open.” He dug in his case for a moment and retrieved a bottle, then lifted her eyelid to peer beneath it briefly before slipping another spoonful of laudanum between her cracked lips.
Not a drop was spilled. In spite of his age, Sloane’s movements were precise, his hands steady as stone. Removing several cauters from his case, he prepared for battle, moving to the hearth to position their tips among the hot coals. While they heated, he methodically cleansed the wound with strong spirits, reopening it and causing it to bleed afresh.
Mélisande did not even stir.
“You”—Sloane gestured to the men—“make certain she cannot move.”
Alessandro and Pelham each took a side while Burroughs lay across her feet. All watched in horrified fascination as Sloane retrieved one of the cauters and carefully inserted its glowing tip into the entry wound.
Mélisande, though heavily drugged, let out a ragged cry of agony and attempted to rise up off the bed as her flesh was seared by the red-hot metal. The three men held her down through her brief struggle until she slipped back into unconsciousness.
Alessandro fought down nausea as he watched a wisp of smoke rise, filling the room with the stink of charred meat.
Sloane tipped another few drops of sleep between his patient’s lips and waited.
When the physician repeated the process on the other side, where the bullet had exited her body, Mélisande remained quiescent. She was beyond the reach of all pain, slumbering peacefully in the arms of the laudanum.
Sloane redressed the wounds and bade the gentlemen keep her as cool as possible until the fever passed. Now there was nothing to be done but wait.
Alessandro remained at her side as she raved incoherently in her delirium. He held her hand as she shook with chills until her teeth clacked violently and a cloth-wrapped stick had to be inserted between them. He spooned laudanum and water between her cracked lips, rubbing them with grease to keep them from bleeding. He plied her face and body with damp cloths to keep her temperature down, to stop the burning of his beloved.
It took two days. Two days of hanging between hope and despair. At last, on the morning of the third day, she burned no more.
Mélisande opened her eyes to the beams of an unfamiliar ceiling. Someone breathed softly at her side. Turning her head, she saw Alessandro fast asleep, his head resting on his arm. Smiling, she lifted her hand to touch his hair and winced at the sudden fire that erupted in her shoulder.
Memory flooded back.
“Alessandro?” she croaked. The ragged sound surprised her.
He stirred, his eyes blazing back to life at the sight of her awake. “Amora! How do you feel?”
Mélisande observed the deep violet bruises beneath his eyes, the hollows in his unshaven cheeks, and thought him the most beautiful man she had ever seen. “I’ve been better,” she whispered, giving him a weak smile.
On the far side of the room behind her, a chair scraped across the floor. “Herrington is dead,” she heard David say.
She shifted slightly as he came into view, closing her eyes against the pain. “How long?”
“Three days,” answered Alessandro. “Try not to move. You don’t want to reopen your injury.”
“I’m thirsty,” she whispered from parched lips. Alessandro brought her a glass of water and held it to her mouth while she drank.
A short while later, Charlotte peeked around the door. “Melly?”
“It’s good to see you, Charlotte,” Mélisande said, smiling before she thought about it. If Herrington was dead, then that meant... “Are you all right?” she inquired.
“Oh, Melly! Can you ever forgive me?” the girl pleaded. “I’ve been such a fool!”
Mélisande’s eyes stung. “The fault was mine. I should have told you everything from the beginning.”
“And how is the invalid?” Reggie chuckled from the doorway, somber eyed despite his cheery smile. “You certainly gave us a good scare. What were you doing out on the field?”
“I should have listened when you told me to wait for you in the carriage,” Mélisande replied. Guilt filled her as she looked at Alessandro. “I thought Herrington was already dead when I saw him fall.”
“Well, he’s dead now, and good riddance,” said Charlotte.
Mélisande’s heart wrenched at the bitterness in her voice. “I’m so sorry. I never meant—”
