Page 61 of The Texan Duke
Keeping hold of her hand, he got to his feet and pulled Elsbeth with him, both of them ducking beneath the ruined walls to the edge of the woods.
He would bet that no human had been in this area of the forest in years. The undergrowth was so thick his boots sank to his ankles. He thought he saw the sharp nose of a fox, but it disappeared so quickly he could have been mistaken.
“You’ve lost your hat,” she said, her voice sounding breathless and thin.
“I don’t do everything with my hat on. My boots, now that’s something entirely different.”
She didn’t smile. Instead, her eyes widened as she stretched out her hand and touched his right shoulder.
“You’ve been shot!”
He pulled her behind a massive oak, bent his head back, and looked up through the archway of branches to a darkening sky.
At least it wasn’t snowing.
The sound of tearing fabric startled him. He glanced over to find that she had lifted the corner of her cloak and was ripping the hem of her riding garment.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re bleeding,” she said. “I need something to staunch the wound.”
Her voice was remarkably calm. He’d known nurses in the Civil War who hadn’t sounded as serene as Elsbeth did at the moment.
“I do wish I’d brought some extra handkerchiefs,” she said. “But I didn’t know you were going to go and get shot.”
“It’s not exactly my fault,” he said, grateful for the amusement he felt. It took his mind off the pain.
He glanced to his right and bit back an oath.
“I’ve only had this coat six months. The hole can’t be patched and I doubt the blood can be cleaned. And, damn it, I’ve already been shot there before.”
She hesitated in the act of pulling his coat off his shoulders and stared at him as if she’d never before seen a wounded man. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe he ought to apologize for that, too.
“He could very easily have killed you,” she said. “And you’re worried about your coat.”
He started to nod, thought better of the gesture, and said, “I think that was the objective.”
She was frowning at him as she pulled back his jacket and shirt.
“Why?”
He had a couple of reasons ready, but he didn’t think he had to tell her. Elsbeth had struck him as perceptive from the beginning.
Either someone didn’t like the fact that he was the Duke of Lothian, and in that he couldn’t blame them. Or someone was angry about his decision to sell Bealadair. Either way, he had a target on his back.
“It’s not in the same place,” she said. “Nearly so, but your other scar is a few inches to the right.”
He closed his eyes, but only for a moment as she pressed against the wound. This one hurt more and he couldn’t help but wonder if the bullet had hit his collarbone.
“We’re near Ainell Village,” she said. “There’s a physician there. I could go get him.”
He opened his eyes. “I have no intention of remaining here while you’re off getting reinforcements. No, Elsbeth.”
Just no. He was more than willing to tie her to him if necessary. Maybe his look gave his feelings away, because she frowned at him again.
This was the woman he’d lost his mind kissing just a moment ago. Now she looked like she wanted to smack him.
Chapter 20
