AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Ten
‘Ican hear you and whether the plea comes from a woman or not, the answer is still no.’
Dr Able sighed at Lord Hockley’s matter-of-fact comment. ‘The procedure is going to hurt, my lord. Much more than I think you could possibly imagine. It has been some time since your injury, and your muscles have contracted too far for me to be able to push the ball back into the socket without a fight. It will be so much easier if you are relaxed.’
‘I am as relaxed as I am going to be so let’s just get it over with before they contract some more.’ Lord Hockley tried to get himself out of bed with only his good arm, and they both hurried towards him to help. ‘And we shall do it without any blasted laudanum and that is my final word on the matter.’
Without the shield of the blanket, he was apparently only completely naked from the waist up, so she was spared the onerous task of attempting to avert her wayward eyes from his most distracting places. They still noticed enough to see that he was as perfect a specimen of manhood as she had ever seen. However, the dislocated shoulder wasn’t the only bad wound his big body had experienced. There was a starburst scar the size of her fist marring the bottom of his ribs and another jagged slash just beneath it. Both long healed over but both had clearly been earned on the battlefield and confirmed his claim to have spent too many years in the service of others.
As he stood, she wrapped her arm around his middle to avoid his bad arm, and then wished she hadn’t because he was as solid as he looked. His skin was warm and smooth beneath her fingers. The muscles beneath bunched taut with the pain.
They got him to the table without incident, and then after two failed attempts, and much to his disgust, got him upon it only after Ned lifted him up. She could tell his weakness embarrassed him and dented his manly pride, but he thanked Ned regardless and allowed her and the doctor to assist in lowering him to lie flat. Prostrate, the rounded head of his humerus bone protruded above his pectoral muscle. The beginnings of a ferocious bruise bloomed over his collarbone and down his arm. He had to be in agony. Agony which was about to get worse before it subsided.
Without thinking, Sophie tenderly brushed his hair from his face. ‘Take some more of the laudanum, my lord. Please.’
The slight shake of his head was his only answer, but his eyes flicked to the door and she knew his reluctance had more to do with his brother than himself.
‘Are you worried about Archie?’
‘He needs me here and he needs me to be invincible.’ His jaw stiffened, and he turned to Dr Able. ‘Do it now.’ Ned stepped forward and that earned him a glare. ‘I understand this is necessary and can assure you that I do not require restraining.’
‘Actually, I have asked Ned to steady your legs, not restrain you.’ Dr Able stripped off his coat and tossed it to one side, calmly taking control. ‘Massaging the joint back into place will take some time and I need your spine straight.’
‘Massage?’ Lord Hockley seemed outraged at such a namby-pamby solution. ‘Can’t you just pop it back in with one good shove like all the no-nonsense, cutthroat sawbones do on the battlefield?’
‘I could if I wanted to risk more, and possibly permanent, damage to your bones, muscles and ligaments; however, my method is more effective.’ Dr Able rolled up his shirtsleeves. ‘And for the record, Lord Hockley, I perfected this technique on the battlefields of the Peninsula where I spent five years as one of those no-nonsense, cutthroat sawbones.’ He gestured to the starburst scar marring Lord Hockley’s washboard-flat midriff. ‘Shrapnel? Ours?’
His wary patient nodded, clearly rapidly revaluating the country doctor whom he had doubtless underestimated. ‘I managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and momentarily on the wrong side of the lines. Damn thing exploded mid-air beside me and threw me off my horse. Cracked a blasted rib to boot.’
‘And if I am not mistaken...’ Dr Able traced the deeper, jagged scar below it in the air with his finger ‘...that beauty is from a French bayonet. Did you fall off your horse again, Captain Peel?’
‘How did you know I was a captain?’
‘A gut feel borne out of encounters with too many cavalry captains who think they know better about everything than the higher ranks possibly ever could to recognise one when I see one.’ The physician smiled then. ‘It is ironic, is it not, that if I were treating this wound in Mont-Saint-Jean as the cutthroat sawbones-in-chief Colonel Able, I could order you to take the laudanum, yet here, where you now outrank me and as you apparently know better, we must do it your way.’
‘You were at Waterloo.’
‘I was indeed, my lord.’ Dr Able laced his fingers together and cracked them ominously to warm them up for the new battle ahead. ‘Are you sure you will not take more laudanum?’
There was a brief flash of indecision before he shook his head again.
‘Very well.’ The physician spoke directly to Sophie. ‘I am tasking you with distracting him, Miss Gilbert. Try to keep our stubborn soldier as relaxed as possible and hopefully, for all our sakes, this onerous, painful task will not take long.’
She positioned herself on the opposite side of the table to his injury and dithered over what to say and do, but as the physician took his bad arm and bent it at the elbow behind his head, she instinctively lent to his eye level and gripped his good hand. ‘Try to breathe evenly, my lord. Think pleasant thoughts.’
The pain was etched in his face yet still he managed a wry smile as the doctor rotated his shoulder and his fingers gripped hers for grim death. ‘Such as?’
‘I have no earthly idea. It just seemed the sort of thing people say at a time like this. I am prepared to concede that, with hindsight, it was not the least bit distracting.’
The sounds of bone cracking on bone accompanied his grimace and his neck arched on the table, the corded veins and muscles knotting beneath the skin. ‘Tell me something diverting instead then.’ Another crack and some stoic laboured breathing. ‘Something about you, Miss Gilbert, that I would find interesting.’
‘Alas, I fear I am as dull as dishwater, Lord Hockley. I am not the least bit interesting.’
‘As you have led an entire village in rebellion and thwarted all my best-laid plans to sell this god-awful house today, I sincerely doubt that.’ The ‘that’ came out through gritted teeth as the doctor laid a heavy palm flat against his misshapen shoulder, then he panted out the pain. ‘You are vexing, indomitable and bossy to your core, Sophie Gilbert.’ Her Christian name on his lips felt odd. Nice—but unsettling. ‘Another born captain who thinks she always knows best.’
‘Only a captain?’
His chuckle was strained. ‘What would you prefer? General Gilbert of the whinging Whittleston Rebel Alliance—one of the most formidable adversaries I have ever come up against. The good doctor and I could have done with you at Waterloo, Sophie.’
