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"'E's lost a fair amount of blood," Barnes had consoled Aurora as she'd bathed the wound, held clean cloths against it to absorb the still-trickling blood. "That sword I saw them men carry in 'ere looked real fierce. It musta cut yer 'usband pretty deep. But the bleedin' seems to be slowin' down now. Don't worry. 'E'll mend."
Aurora was thankful that Barnes appeared to be right.
"No more," Julian protested, shoving at Aurora's hands. "I'll wash later—after you've heated the water."
"I'm glad to hear that," Aurora murmured, leaning over Julian and smoothing his hair off his forehead. "Unfortunately, your wound requires cold compresses, not hot. So you'll have to endure the chill."
Julian cracked open one eye, then the other. "Aurora?" He turned his head a bit, frowning as he focused on his surroundings, the wooden table he was beside, the two chairs that held him. "Where are we?" he questioned over the sounds of clinking glasses and chortling men.
"In the Cove. Tending
to your wound."
Recollection surged forth like the tide. "Macall…" he bit out, jerking to a half-sitting position.
"It's over," Aurora said softly, easing her husband back down. "Macall is no longer a threat. He's dead. I believe his body's been disposed of." A shudder. "In truth, I didn't ask nor do I care. All that matters is you."
"So it really did happen," Julian murmured, gazing up at her, his expression intense as he assessed her state of mind.
"Yes, it happened." Aurora rinsed out the cloth, returned it to Julian's throat with shaking hands. "Mr. Barnes was kind enough to ask two of his friends to assist me. They carried you in, placed you in the quietest corner we could find, then left me to tend to you." A worried frown. "Your wound hasn't stopped bleeding yet. It's slowed considerably, but it hasn't stopped."
"Don't be upset by that." Julian reached up, his knuckles tenderly caressing her cheek. "The blade on Macall's sword was broad and thin…" He paused, drew a breath that was still slightly unsteady. "It was able to slash a fairly deep cut with very little effort. But he hadn't gotten down to the serious business of killing me yet, so no real harm was done." Ever so gently, Julian's thumb traced her lips. "Stop looking so worried. I'll be fine." He made an attempt to rise, then thought better of it, sinking back into the chair.
"Stay still," Aurora instructed.
He flashed her a weak smile. "I don't dare disobey. Not when you're so adept with your brother's pistol." His smile faded, his brows drawing together as he felt her hands tremble against his throat. "Soleil, you're very pale. Are you all right?"
She nodded. "He didn't harm me. Other than a stiff forearm, I'm fine."
"That's not what I meant." Julian's hand slid around to caress her nape in slow, soothing motions. "You just killed a man. That's a very courageous and difficult thing to do."
Aurora met her husband's gaze, tears glistening on her lashes. "Yes, I did. And I'd do it again in an instant if your life were at stake."
Profound emotion tightened Julian's features. "Barnes was right. I am a lucky man—lucky to have you, lucky to be alive…" He drew yet another shaky breath. "Perhaps even a merlin has its limits. Perhaps it's time I stopped tempting fate."
"Perhaps it's time you rested," Aurora countered in a quavering whisper. She lay her palm against Julian's jaw, her voice barely audible over the din. "I need to get more compresses, anyway. Mr. Barnes is still here. He seems to be taking his role as my guardian very seriously, not only by offering his aid, but by warning the other men to stay away from me. Thus far, they've all complied. So I can move about in relative safety. You, on the other hand, had best lie still, else I'll have one of those sailors stand guard over you. I won't have you jumping up and undoing all my hard work by reopening your wound and worsening the bleeding."
"Aurora—" Julian seized her hand before she could leave him, bringing her fingers to his lips. "Thank you. I'm grateful to know my life lies in such beautiful, capable hands."
"And I'm grateful you're alive—more grateful than I can say." Aurora broke off, seeking the right words to convey how terrified she'd been at the thought of losing him, how fervently she'd prayed that her determination would make up for her lack of skill. God, if that bullet had missed…
"It wouldn't have," Julian murmured, reading her mind. "You're too bloody good a shot."
"I never held a gun before in my life."
"Trust me, soleil. You're not a woman who needs teaching—at anything."
With a watery smile, Aurora leaned forward, brushed her lips to his. "I love you, Julian."
Rising, she made her way across the pub, skirting the tables and halting when she reached the counter. "Mr. Rawley?" she summoned the tavern keeper. "Excuse me, but may I have a few more clean towels?"
Rawley shot her a disgruntled look. "I already gave ye a half dozen."
"The wound was worse than I thought."
"Listen, lady." The tavern keeper slammed a goblet of ale to the counter, leaning over to stare belligerently at Aurora. "I've seen a lot worse in my time. In case ye 'aven't noticed, this ain't exactly London's West End. The only reason I even 'elped ye out this much is 'cause I took pity on ye. But the Cove's a pub, not a sick ward. So get yer 'usband up as quick as ye can, and get goin'."
"I intend to." Aurora tried to control her anger—and her nausea. The tavern keeper's breath was nearly as foul as his temper. Still, she needed his cooperation for a short while longer. And that meant holding her tongue. "Mr. Rawley, I apologize for disrupting your routine. I'd like nothing better than if Julian were well enough for us to take our leave. But that can't happen until his wound stops bleeding. It's slowed quite a bit. Another few compresses should do it. So if you'll just allow me a few more towels and just as many minutes, I'm sure we'll be able to accommodate your request."
