Page 82 of A Slight Problem with the Wedding
“You are both miserable patients,” Ambrose said, putting an end to their discussion. “But the fact remains you are still bleeding, Julius. Stop grumbling and let Gory tend you.”
She asked Ambrose to fetch the basin and ewer off his bureau.
Julius frowned as he watched her dip a clean cloth into the basin she had partially filled with water and began to gently wipe the blood off his arm.
He continued to frown as she gingerly poked around the area of his torn flesh. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered as Ambrose looked on.
Gory sighed and turned once again to Ambrose. “Oh, and I’ll need a bottle of brandy. And more fresh cloths.”
“Robbins can attend to me,” Julius said. “I do not need my duke brother acting as my servant. Go back downstairs and see to your guests. I’ll be fine with Gory and my valet. In fact, I’ll be fine with just Gory to minister to my needs.”
He turned to her with a naughty grin and puffed out his chest. “You have the softest hands.”
“And you have a nasty gash where the shot tore through your arm. Be quiet and stop ogling me like a naughty boy.”
Ambrose, after casting him a warning glance, hurried off to do her bidding. The warning did no good, for Julius still had a naughty grin on his face. “Stop fussing and give me a kiss, Gory. That is the best medicine for me.”
She needed to make certain no metal fragments had lodged in his arm. The ball had gone clean through, but bits of it might have detached, and this was a danger. She tried to explain this, but he wasn’t listening.
Instead, he placed his hand to the back of her head and gently drew her toward him. “Gory,” he said, his expression raw and intense, “I’m glad it was me they shot. I would have turned into a mad, wild ape if they harmed you.”
He gave her the softest kiss, his lips barely pressing down on hers. Still, she felt the heat behind it and blushed when he released her.
“Behave yourself,” she said in a ragged whisper, trying to remain calm. That he had been hurt defending her had her stomach in knots and her heart in a twist.
She would never recover if she lost him.
“Oh, Julius,” She whispered, stifling the urge to cry.
“What is it, love? I did not mean to overset you, but I needed to kiss you. I needed to feel your soft lips against my mouth and feel your heartbeat against my own.”
“I liked your kiss. But I came so close to losing you. Julius, you were shot.”
“And lived.” He shook his head. “Come closer, Gory. I also need to hug you.” He held out his good arm to take her into his embrace.
She melted into his arms and hugged him as fiercely as she dared. “It should have been me, not you.”
“Never, love. Don’t you know by now that I’ll never let anyone hurt you?” He gave her another soft kiss on the lips. “No tears, Gory. Look at the good that came out of this incident.”
“What good? There is nothing good about your getting hurt.”
“Other than I now have my shirt off…and we are alone, and you have the chance to explore my musculature.”
“Your musculature?” She laughed and hugged him again. “Yes, this is a scientific opportunity I dare not pass up.”
She let out a breath, for he was so beautifully built. Firm. Muscled. There was something shockingly primal about her response to him. She had wanted to run her hands all over him when first seeing him without his shirt, the streaks of blood trailing down his arm.
She had never experienced womanly urges as powerful as these before.
Julius smiled, knowing exactly what she was feeling because he understood her so well.
She eased away when Robbins strode in with the bottle of brandy. “His Grace asked me to take over for him,” he muttered, sounding a little indignant at the thought of anyone, even Ambrose, thinking to take on his responsibilities.
“Pour me a glass, will you?” Julius asked his valet while watching Gory apply the brandy to a dry cloth. “I need a light refresher before Lady Gregoria gets her wicked hands on me and burns me by applying the brandy to the wound. A terrible waste of perfectly good spirits.”
“I’ll be as gentle as I can. Thank goodness it is merely a graze. However, even a graze is a serious matter since infection can set in unless the wound is promptly and thoroughly cleaned. Robbins, I’ll need bandages.”
“At once, m’lady.” The dutiful valet ran off to do her bidding.
