Page 6 of Master of Games
The villain had hurt Sophie, and then tried to steal her and marry her.
He was the stuff of nightmares. “Will he follow you here?”
“If he were following me, he would have caught me, I wasn’t moving very fast.”
The air hissed from her lungs. Because that made a great deal of sense and she hadn’t meant to be concerned for herself over him. “I’ll have the footmen start a guard duty regardless.”
He patted the back of her hand again even as four footmen descended down the front steps. “That is one of the things I love about you. You always know just how to handle yourself.”
Another little trill of pleasure raced through her. He was a flatterer, whose life might depend on her in this very moment.
Of course, he’d say such things. But deep in her heart, she could confess that his words were…nice. She’d closed herself off to wanting any sort of relationship with anyone but her father.
To be praised, to be needed…it was a lovely moment.
And one that she would do well to forget.
She pushed herself up, standing as the footmen descended the stairs. “Bring him in the house. Put him in the adjoining room next to mine.”
“Yes, my lady,” John, the footman closest to her answered. “And Christian has been dispatched to fetch the doctor.”
She nodded as she pointed down. “It’s his left arm. Lift him carefully. I know you know how to handle an injury, John.”
“I’ll treat him with the utmost care.” Together, the footmen lifted Ironheart, carrying him up the stairs and into the house, a trail of blood dripping as they went.
She followed, noting that Ironheart didn’t make a sound of protest, though it must have hurt terribly.
They carried him up the stairs and into a large bedroom that overlooked the front drive. Gingerly they set him down, placing him carefully in the bed, but she heard him groan, nonetheless.
“Fetch me sheers,” she said to one of the footmen as he settled Ironheart’s left leg into the bed.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Tell me those are for cutting off my clothes and not for putting me out of my misery,” Ironheart said on a long sigh.
“Of course they are for cutting off your clothes.”
“I have to confess, this is not how I pictured taking my clothes off in front of you.”
John coughed, seeming to choke on his own spit. Tabbie didn’t look away from Ironheart as she examined his clothes and the best way to remove them.
“Don’t be a cad,” she tsked as the other footman returned with the sharp metal instrument. If not for the extra ears, she’d likely add that she doubted he’d considered the proposition of disrobing in front of her at all, and if he had, it was in the way he pictured it with every woman he ever met. Another female to fawn over him.
Gently she approached him with the sheers, still trying to decide how best to get off all his layers of clothing.
Finally, she started with the wounded arm, cutting from the wrist, up the front of the arm so she could gently pull the layers of clothes away from the damaged skin.
She pulled the soaked fabric back to reveal the wound and nearly sighed with relief.
The ball of lead had gone through the flesh and not hit the bone.
“I need a clean cloth to wrap it and put some pressure on the wound,” she called to John.
“Already coming, my lady.”
She kept cutting across his chest, and down the other arm. “It’s a shame to ruin such a fine coat,” she breathed as she worked. Mostly, she was attempting to distract herself from the rippling muscle being revealed underneath.
But her attempt was quickly foiled. “The lead ball already ruined it, and I’m far more concerned about the damage to my skin.”
