Page 75 of A Whisper of Desire
Maitland took the man’s hand as if he were God himself. The surgeon was not much older than Maitland. “Have you had much experience with terrible wounds?” he asked.
“I served at Waterloo.”
Nothing further needed to be said. Grayson had told them all about the horrors of the battle, and Christian’s recovery from his terrible burns. More than two thousand men had had limbs amputated. It had been a bloody mess.
Maitland stepped aside and let the lieutenant examine Marisa.
Once the surgeon had finished his examination, he looked at the three men and Isobel. “We need to get her to the barracks hospital before I remove the stake. The risk of infection is too great here, plus I need more instruments for any internal wounds. It’s only five miles.”
Chapter 18
The journey to Merville Barracks took almost two hours—much slower than Arend’s roundtrip.
They had to go slow so that there was minimal movement for Marisa. The only good sign was, as they pulled into the barracks, Marisa started to moan softly.
“I’m hoping she stays unconscious awhile longer. At least long enough for me to remove the stake and repair the damage as best I can.”
“I will assist you.” It was not a request. Maitland was not leaving her side.
“As you wish.”
—
Maitland held Marisa’s hand for the whole procedure. She was still unconscious; they gave her some laudanum, but obviously she could feel pain, as she moaned and squeezed his hand throughout. The lieutenant insisted on having several men present to hold her down, should she try to struggle, and it had been a wise move.
The surgeon tried to ensure Marisa’s modesty while operating, but really all Maitland cared about was that she didn’t die on the table.
He made sure that the surgeon washed the wound with alcohol thoroughly before, during, and after he closed her wound.
Christian and Grayson had explained how they thought Christian had survived because they had regularly soaked his bandages in alcohol. They had no idea why it worked, but that’s what they put it down to, considering men in better condition than Christian did not survive gangrene.
The operation seemed to take forever, but Marisa was still alive at the end of it. Thank the Lord.
As a stretcher, carried by two men, took her from the operating room to a private room in the officers’ quarters, Sean was busy washing her blood off his hands.
When Maitland made to follow, Sean called out, “Your Grace, please stay. We need to talk.”
Maitland’s heart began to beat fiercely in his chest. “She’ll make it. She’s one determined woman.”
“That’s good to hear. If we can keep infection at bay, I’m sure she’ll recover. The stake didn’t hit any vital organs.” He paused.
Maitland’s eyebrow rose. “But?”
Sean moved to his cabinet and poured out two shots of whiskey. He handed one to Maitland before downing the drink in one gulp.
Maitland didn’t drink his; he couldn’t be sure it would stay in his stomach. Watching the woman he loved be cut open, watching the pain flicker beneath her closed eyelids, watching men hold her down, feed her opiates…a shudder ran over his soul.
Sean guided them into his office next to the operating room. “Why don’t you sit?”
“I would prefer to go to my wife.”
“The opiates we gave her, on top of her concussion, will hopefully mean she’ll sleep the rest of the afternoon and night.” When Maitland didn’t respond, Colbert added, “Please sit.”
Tiredness washed over him. He sank into the chair and buried his head in his hands.
“Do you have children, Your Grace?”
His head snapped up. Colbert’s question was not one he’d expected. He simply shook his head. “I’m newly married.”
