Page 48 of A Touch of Charm
Stan appeared busy with the cold water Mary drizzled on his wound. Giving Andre a minute or two before tending to him. For the moment, he had to steady himself, for he almost grew weak and let his emotions get the better of him.
Thea’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but there was a new light in them, a spark of hope that banished the embarrassment of her ordeal. She leaned into him, her breath mingling with his, and whispered, “I know.”
At that moment, Andre and Thea were bound by a shared setback, and a passion that crackled like lightning around them. He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckle, a silent vow of protection and devotion.
And Andre reminded himself that he mustn’t cross the line that would soil her with the touch of a bastard.
He couldn’t do that to her; he loved her too much.
Chapter Eighteen
Andre’s attention lockedonto Thea’s injuries, each wound a problem to be solved, and he forced him to suppress the anger toward the attackers. How dare they touch the princess, much less push her against a tree in the park. As much as he despised violence, there was no other response he had for blackguards like that.
The rhythm of his work—cleaning, assessing, bandaging—was a balm against the storm of conflicting emotions that churned beneath the surface. While he emptied and refilled the small wash basin with clean water and picked some gauze and clean towels from the cabinet, he found clarity, a reprieve from the questions that loomed unanswered in his life. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a muted truth lingered: no matter how proficiently he navigated this world of healing, there would always be parts of his life that eluded his control—his heart among them. He resolved to confront those truths again as he worked, but only after ensuring Thea was safe and whole. For now, this was all he could focus on.
By the time Andre had applied the arnica tincture on Thea’s leg and covered it with a wet cloth to cool it while she rested, Mary was sitting on Stan’s lap, the bleeding wound forgotten, and Stan told her a story.
“She climbed every tree, I’m telling you; Mother said Thea was more akin to a monkey than a princess.”
Andre saw what Stan was doing and gave him a reassuring nod; the distraction of the patients was always a good idea to calm them and made the work for the doctor much easier, given that Andre had to close some of Stan’s stitches again—even if it was the patient, Stan, distracting the little nurse.
Mary’s eyes were wide with joyful admiration. “My Thea can climb trees?”
“I’m rather quick, too,” Thea called from behind Andre, who’d retrieved a few small white muslin squares to tap Stan’s wound clean. The stitches were still intact, and the wound closed. The strain of defending himself had made it bleed again. What concerned Andre was the redness around it and the small white pustule in the corner of the suture.
Infections of flesh wounds were common. The low-life criminals who didn’t have anything better to do than to injure innocent and good people used such dull and dirty blades that he had seen patients die from the infections more often than the wounds themselves.
He wouldn’t let this happen to his friend.
Andre touched Stan’s forehead.
The prince was still feverish.
That explained why he didn’t see the intruders sharply and why his reaction had been slowed.
“Stan, you need to rest so the infection can heal.” Andre tried his sternest doctor voice, but getting the ton patients to do what he said was difficult, much less a prince.
“I’m fine,” Stan said.
Andre cleared his throat. He didn’t want to worry Thea, but he had to explain to Stan that this was more serious than he seemed to think.
“Miss Mary,” Andre said, “I would be most obliged if you could ensure that our patient, the princess, keeps a healthy fluid balance so her knee can heal.” Mary’s eyes widened, her gaze focused and alert as she folded her hands in front of her.
“Yes, certainly.”
“Can I entrust her to you?”
“Yes,” Mary said as seriously as an adult on a mission.
“Thank you.” Andre turned back to Stan.
But then he noticed that Mary stood primly and didn’t say anything.
“Is something the matter?” Andre asked.
“To what do you entrust her to me?”
“To give her fluids.”
