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How heartless could one man be? As her chest tightened with fear, she shook her head. “He will bleed to death, you rotten bastard. How much do you want that treasure? For I can promise you this. If Hawk dies, I will outright refuse to help you.”
His face was a macabre mask in the flickering candlelight. As he took up his pistol once more, he bounced his gaze between her and the captain. “Fine. Go ahead but no talking.”
Relief poured down her spine. “Thank you.” Belle crossed the room. She kneeled at Hawk’s left side. “How do you feel?”
“I said no talking!” Philip screamed into the room, but she ignored him.
This was more important than his tantrum.
“I won’t lie. The wound hurts, and I’m losing too much blood too fast.”
“Let me see.”
“We are wasting time.” Philip swooped down upon them. He delivered a kick to Hawk’s side and then slapped her across the face with such force the corner of her lip tore.
Belle raised her gaze to glare at her brother-in-law as Hawk rallied enough that she feared he would go after Philip. “Another few minutes won’t matter. Now let me address this wound.” She shook her head. “I never knew you were such a blackguard.”
“Desperate times and all that.” He gestured with the pistol. “Get on with it then.”
“Give me your cravat, Philip.” When he didn’t immediately comply, she held out her hand and wriggled her fingers. “Now, if you please. I can only do so much.”
“Fine.” He yanked at the knot of the cravat. Seconds later, he tugged off the garment and threw the length of cloth in her direction. “Make it quick.”
“Men and their dratted weapons,” Belle muttered as she took up the garment. “Always waving them around thinking to get their way by bringing death and destruction. Well, I’m sick of it.” Also, she was tired of men thinking they knew what was best for her.
It was time to start championing for the futureshewanted.
“This might hurt,” she whispered to Hawk. “Help me remove your evening coat so I can get a look at how severe the wound is.”
A grunt was his only answer, but he assisted the best he could. Blood drenched a good portion of the left side of the stark white linen shirt. It had nearly soaked through his folded cravat.
The urge to retch climbed Belle’s throat as the metallic scent of blood choked her. She shoved those reactions away, for it was vital she do this.
Hawk roused. “Check to see if the ball went through. If it didn’t, that means it’s lodged in my shoulder and will increase the chance of infection.”
And if they were forced to search for a treasure in dirty, dank places, that risk rose exponentially. She forced down a hard swallow. When he leaned forward, Belle peered behind him. Blood had seeped into the back of the shirt and smeared against the sofa. Gingerly, she explored the area with her fingertips. “There is a definite hole in the shirt and in the flesh beneath.” At least that was some good news. “I’ll wrap it the best I can, but you need a surgeon immediately.”
“Tell that to the madman wielding the pistol.” A thread of humor went through Hawk’s comment, but it was short lived, for as she wrapped the cravat under his arm and brought it over his shoulder, he grimaced.
“Let me worry about that. You concentrate on resting as much as you can.” She made another three passes before tying off the ends. Still not satisfied the makeshift bandage would hold, Belle stood and then with a defiant look at Philip, she dug beneath her skirting for her petticoat. Ripping a large swath from the garment, she quickly folded it into a packet and secured it beneath the tied cravat. Another strip of the petticoat was sacrificed, and with that, she fashioned a makeshift sling. “That’s the best I can do right now but at least by keeping the arm semi-immobile, it might slow the bleeding.”
“Thank God for the many purposes of a lady’s unmentionables.” Hawk caught her hand in his. “It’s appreciated. There is much I would say yet this night.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Let us survive this first.”
“Enough talking. Your budding romance turns my stomach.”
“Only because you hold the love of coin more,” Belle shot off without thinking.
“Wench, I said enough.” Philip came over and with a strong hand wrapped around her upper arm, yanked her into a standing position. “I know enough of the clues I read to think the answer is in this room.” He shoved her toward the cold fireplace. “Start looking.” Then he waved the pistol at Hawk. “You too, Captain.”
“Fine.” He rose slowly to his feet.
Philip gestured with the pistol. “Go help her look over the fireplace.”
When Hawk came abreast of her, he brushed the fingers of his good hand over hers in silence comfort. “We have already searched this, Ravenscroft.”
“Then do it again.”
