Page 81 of The Lady's Last Mistake
“You made it this week, that’s what matters,” Grant said. “How is your wound healing, Amir?” It was promising, at least, that he’d not heard from Mr. Mansouri.
“My scab’s tight and itchy,” Amir answered. His father said, “He is hoping the sutures can be removed.”
Grant rolled up the boy’s trouser leg and was relieved to see the shin was wrapped in clean bandages. He’d sent plenty home with them, and it appeared they’d kept up with the changings. Unraveling the cotton linen, he prepared to seeinfection. But the gash was healing well, without swelling or weeping.
“You’re in luck,” Grant said. “The sutures can be removed, and it looks like the most you’ll suffer is a wicked scar to tell tales about when you’re old.”
Amir’s toothy grin gave him another infusion of good spirits. But not enough to lift him entirely from his high dudgeon, as Hannah had called it.
She returned to the surgery and brought forth the required tools. The boy grimaced in preparation for pain.
“It won’t hurt half as much this time,” Grant promised him.
“I came prepared anyhow,” Amir said.
“Prepared in what way?” Grant made the first snip of the black floss.
“What can you break, even if you never pick it up or touch it?”
Ah.A riddle. Grant smiled. “That is a challenging one. Let me think…” He snipped another section of floss and pulled it from the scabbing wound. He’d heard this one before but took his time. “A promise,” he answered after another moment. Amir groaned.
“All right. What about this: Why do bees have such sticky hair?”
He chuckled. “Do bees have hair?”
“Just answer it,” Amir said, though his father scolded him for being rude. Grant snipped and pulled more of the stitches, unbothered by the boy’s impatience. It was rather endearing.
“It must have something to do with honey,” he mused aloud.
“They use honeycombs,” Hannah said smugly, and Amir clapped.
“Know-it-all. I nearly had it,” Grant said. “Very well, Amir, we’ve time for one more before you’re ready to run out of here, completely healed.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the patient table. “This one’s hard: You keep me even after you’ve given me to someone else. What am I?”
Grant cocked his head and pushed back onto his heels as the answer came to him instantly. It might not have, had he not been wallowing all week. His mind had been spinning around the truth of his foul mood, refusing to stop and acknowledge it. But Amir’s riddle had finally brought him to a standstill.
He should have been overjoyed to have a nephew, as he’d wanted. To be off the hook with the marquess. He should have been relieved to know things could now go back to normal.
But he wasn’t any of those things.
“Well?” Amir prodded. “You don’t know, do you? Giving up?”
Grant shook his head, but his throat was too thick to speak.
He didn’t want it to be over. He didn’t want Cassie to walk away. To leave him. Grant wanted to be with her every night and every morning. He wanted her everywhere, wherever he was. The thought of her somewhere else,withsomeone else… Bloody hell.
He was in love with the woman.
When in Christ had this happened?
“Doctor Brown?” Hannah said softly. He blinked and turned, meeting her stricken gaze. “What is wrong?”
“A heart,” he said, looking to Amir. “You keep your heart even when it belongs to someone else.”
Amir clapped again and whooped as he hopped down from the table. “You got that one, doctor! I’ll think of more for next time.”
“Amir, as much as I like riddles, let us hope there is no next time.”
