Page 87 of The Moonstone Pirate
Imogen, thinking to calm Deandra, made the mistake of trying to explain what the doctor was going to do to treat his wound. That might have worked to soothe someone who was thinking clearly, which Deandra was not.
“It is just a flesh wound, Deandra. But Dr. Hewitt will make certain there are no metal fragments lodged—”
“Metal fragments!” Deandra resumed her wailing. “Oh, Draco! You cannot die! Papa will be a disaster if he becomes earl. I’ll be left destitute.”
“You will never be left destitute, Deandra. I’ve already seen to your provision. Nor am I going to die. I give you my word of honor.”
“But the hot metal! And all that blood!” Her face turned ashen and she began to swoon.
Imogen caught hold of her to keep her from falling out of the wagon.
He was of no help, since his arm was still bleeding and he needed to keep pressure on the wound.
Imogen cast him an exasperated glance before returning her attention to his cousin. “Deandra, he will require stitches, but that is all.”
“Why is there so much blood, then? So much blood. It terrifies me.”
“I know,” Imogen responded with sympathy. “But your stubborn cousin is to blame for that. He strained himself whileclimbing into the wagon on his own instead of accepting help. I expect he is feeling a bit dizzy now. Are you feeling dizzy, Draco?” She tried to look sternly at him but merely looked adorable.
“I am fine,” he replied. “In the pink.”
He knew he was behaving like an oaf, but frustration did that to a man.
Deandra’s behavior was irritating, but she was young and had never seen anyone hurt before. Also, she looked upon him as a savior for her and her father, who was a scholar but truly incompetent at handling any financial matters.
What frustrated him were these mysteries that seemed to be piling up and remained unsolved. Was it not enough that Driscoll had been killed on his property? Why was someone now trying to shoot him? Or had Imogen been their intended target?
He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her thoroughly, but she already had his blood on her gown, and this was not an appropriate time to be feeling amorous. In his own defense, having to endure the fires that swept through him every time she ran her soft hands over his body was punishment enough.
Although he should not be thinking such wayward thoughts, the feel of her body beneath him as he’d shielded her from the falling glass still had him hot and lusting. That sweet body of hers, so soft and yielding…and him atop it.
He emitted a breath of relief when they reached the hospital.
Had he any doubts about his feelings for this girl—which, in truth, he did not—he’d be left with none now.
She was his.
He wanted to share a lifetime with her.
“Are you going to be a stubborn clot and refuse assistance again?” she muttered as the wagon drew to a halt and people started rushing toward them.
He hated having everyone fuss over him. So, yes. He was probably going to behave like a stubborn clot.
However, he kept the thought to himself and merely ignored the question.
Imogen hopped off and began issuing instructions to one of the young men who had rushed forward to assist them. “Elmer! Thank goodness! Find Dr. Hewitt right away. We need to help Lord Woodley into the private ward. He’s been shot. Be careful when you remove his clothes—there may be glass shards still in them.”
Elmer was nodding, but his eyes suddenly widened. “Lady Imogen, your hand is also bleeding.”
Draco growled. “Why did you not tell me?”
He cursed himself for being so caught up in his own injury that he did not look closer at Imogen. She had assured him that she was fine. Obviously, she wasn’t.
She glanced down. “It is nothing, a tiny shard easily plucked out with tweezers. Your injury is far more serious.”
“Have the doctor see to Imogen first,” Draco insisted.
She gasped. “Absolutely not. You are the one who was shot. Elmer, ignore him. He must be attended to first.”
