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ng while in transit. Her eyes were closed again and her breathing was shallow and laced with a sharp intake of air.
His general pulled open the door, Morgan and Dr. Schaeffer having already arrived at the cottage.
Darien said, “Get some towels. Lay them over the bed.”
The old physician yanked back the comforter and sheet, then Morgan spread out the towels. Darien set her on the mattress and the doctor whisked off her boots as Darien tossed aside the jacket covering her and then unbuttoned her sweater.
Schaeffer groaned. “Good heavens.” His gaze fell on the gaping cut on her chest, but then lifted to Jade’s face. “We need more towels to clean her up.”
“No,” Darien said. “She needs the blood on her skin. I’ll explain later.” To Morgan, he said, “Help me get her sweater off.”
He lifted her hair as Darien eased the material over her shoulders and down her arms. He tossed the garment aside.
“Darien, look at this.”
The grave expression on the general’s face made his stomach clench. Glancing over Jade’s shoulder, Darien fought back more rage. The doctor took a peek as well.
“My God,” Schaeffer said. “Those are second-degree burns, with some bruising around the edges of the red patches and blisters. And it looks as though she has a fractured rib on the right side.”
Darien’s heart sank. The damage was so much worse than he’d imagined. No wonder she’d wanted to give up and let her injuries consume her.
“She needs morphine,” he insisted.
The doctor went for his medical bag and rooted around until he had the needle and vial in hand.
The physician said, “Her skin’s already damp and chilled from her soaked sweater. That should help to cool her back. But I can’t apply a towel at this point, because it could stick to the burns and peel away skin when it’s removed—and the more she loses, the more susceptible she’ll be to infection. Unfortunately, I do need her on her back in order to close her chest wound, and so she can rest.”
“What about something softer?” Darien indicated the pillowcase and Morgan quickly whipped one off the many pillows on the bed while Darien carefully unhooked her bra.
“That should work.” Schaeffer gently placed the satin case over her back, and Darien eased her down to the mattress, pressing a towel over her breasts.
As the doctor prepped the syringe, Darien said, “Not too much. She has to be able to feel something specific beyond the combination of all her wounds, but be sedated just enough to reach past the pain to heal.”
“Yes,” she said, though her eyes were closed and her voice was barely audible.
Darien delicately removed her pants and Morgan handed him another towel so he could dry her wet skin. Then he pulled the sheet and comforter over her, up to her waist, trying to help warm her.
“I’ll tend to the fires,” Morgan said. “Then I’ll alert Sheena.”
Schaeffer told him, “I’ve never taken care of Jade before. Or her father. He’d never been sick a day in his life, nor has she.”
“She possesses some exceptional gifts. Her secrets must stay within these walls.”
The physician’s chest puffed. “I’ve been practicing medicine for nearly fifty years, your Majesty. I value doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“Good, because you’re going to get an eyeful this evening.” He dragged a chair over to the bed for the doctor. “Just be extremely gentle with her,” he warned.
Schaeffer looked duly advised and suddenly a bit unnerved.
Darien sighed. Bring it down a notch. Don’t scare the hell out of someone who can help Jade.
But he was on edge. So much so, he paced the foot of the bed as the doctor tightened a leather strip around her upper arm and then rubbed alcohol on the inner crook of her elbow. Locating the vein he wanted, he pricked her with the needle.
Jade screamed bloody murder.
Darien pinched the bridge of his nose. The physician did not give up his post, but administered the drug, tidied up and then stood. That was when Darien saw how pale he’d turned.
“It was just a needle,” Schaeffer said in his defense.
