Page 76 of A Whisper of Desire
The man’s face fell. “I thought as much, as your wife is very young. A good thing, in terms of one’s ability to heal.” He took another slug of whiskey, as if building up his courage.
Darkness seeped into Maitland. “I saw the blood on her thighs. It didn’t come from her stomach.”
“No. I suspect she’s had a miscarriage. It would have been a very early pregnancy.”
“That’s the least of my worries. As long as she survives, there will be time for children later, once she’s recovered.” Maitland rose from his chair. “Now I’m going to sit with my wife. Thank you for confirming what I’d suspected.”
Colbert sighed and said, “The injuries to her womb were extensive. The risk of infection from the wood splinters was too great. Plus, I could not repair it; I had to remove her womb.”
Maitland froze in the doorway, the rest of Colbert’s words lost in the scream reverberating in his head.
Chapter 19
She couldn’t swallow. It felt as if she’d been in a desert sandstorm, as if sand and grit filled her mouth. She desperately wanted something to drink.
As if someone was reading her mind, a trickle of water passed her cracked lips and it was heaven.
“Get Maitland. I think she’s waking up.”
It was Hadley’s voice.
She tried to open her eyes, but stabbing pain in her stomach saw her squeeze them tightly shut. A groan escaped.
She heard hurried footsteps and then a large, warm hand engulfed one of hers while warm, soft lips were pressed to her forehead. She could smell Maitland. She tried to smile, tried to squeeze his hand back, but weakness invaded her bones.
“I think she knows it’s me. I saw her try to smile. Thank God. Marisa, come back to me.”
I’m trying,she wanted to yell.
—
A long period of time must have passed since her last sips of water, because she was thirsty again. A large, warm hand still held hers, and this time when she tried to open her eyelids they obeyed. The room was dimly lit, and she could smell the fire in the grate, but most of all she sensed that the large bulk sitting in a chair next to her was Maitland, and he was asleep.
Turning her head, she took a sharp breath and tried to let the pain wash over her. She looked at the man she’d given her heart to. Except for the quality of his clothing, he looked like a scruffy beggar. His face was covered in a beard, his clothes looked as though he’d slept in them for a year, and his hair was mussed and matted together like a bird’s nest.
How long had she been…ill?
Just then his eyes flickered open and tired, worried eyes swept her face. She read the relief in them when he understood she was awake and looking at him. A big tear welled in one green eye and he squeezed her hand. “Thank you for not leaving me.”
“Of course,” she managed to croak out.
He quickly rose and poured water into a cup and helped her rise up so she could drink. The liquid was the sweetest nectar she’d ever tasted. Once she’d finished, he gently eased her back onto her pillow.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been trampled by teams of horses. What happened? How long have I been”—she stopped and looked at the room; this wasn’t home—“here?”
She lay back, exhausted from saying only those few words.
“You’ve been floating in and out of consciousness for almost three weeks.”
“What happened? I remember being taken and then racing in a carriage, then it crashing, but from there, nothing.”
Something flashed over his face, some deep sorrow, but it was quickly gone, and perhaps she imagined it. “Isobel! Oh, no, is Isobel alive?”
“She’s fine. She wasn’t hurt at all.”
“That’s good.” Still, his look purveyed terrible tragedy. She quickly looked down her body and moved her legs to ensure that everything was in working order.
