Page 7 of Master of Games
She worked the sheers right down the middle, peeling back the layers as the hot water and cloth arrived.
Washing as much of the blood off as she could, she wrapped the wound tightly, trying to stop the bleeding.
He grunted through the pain. “I’m sorry,” she winced, touching his bare chest, his skin warm and rough underneath her palm.
“Don’t be sorry.” He let out a long breath, his chest rising and falling under her hand. “I should be the one who apologizes.”
Her heart stuttered again. Because this was not a handsome rake speaking but an endearing man. Drat him and his ability to work his way past her defenses. “It was a bit dull here anyway.” Not completely true, but good enough. “Believe it or not, you saved me from writing a novel.”
His eyes opened and he gave her a soft smile, the kind that crinkled his eyes but did nothing to soften the masculine line of his jaw. “Well in that case, I shall need constant care.”
He was back to his rakish ways, but this time, she didn’t mind so much, and she found herself smiling back as she looked away. “You are incorrigible.”
“I am. It shall take the strongest sort of woman to tame me.”
“Truer words,” she murmured, tying the cloth with more force than she intended.
He sucked in a ragged breath, lifting off the bed.
She immediately froze. “I’m sorry, Ironheart.”
“Might as well call me Caden.”
“Caden?” Something warm slid through her belly.
“My given name,” he answered with a grunt.
Caden Ironheart. It was a nice name for a beautiful man. Too bad his heart was black and hers was frozen. “Family name?”
“No, Tabbie, not an Ironheart name at all.” A darkness laced his words but she didn’t have a chance to ask as the butler appeared in the doorway.
“Doctor Merigold is here.”
“Bring him in,” she answered, straightening away. Caden Ironheart’s secrets would have to remain his own. Right now, she needed to make certain he lived.
Ironheart looked down at the wound as the doctor examined the flesh. “It’s already healing.”
“Yes,” he answered, even as Tabbie stared at him with confusion.
He’d been shot two days ago. A significant flesh wound, but a flesh wound nonetheless. He’d not have collapsed off his horse if he hadn’t spent the last two days losing the men who’d chased him relentlessly.
But he’d had to shake them first. He couldn’t risk bringing his enemies to Tabbie’s door.
Still, he maybe should have found another way to rest.
He’d not be able to marry Tabbie if he were dead.
And he did intend to marry her. In fact, he’d been making the journey here to propose. A fact she’d been trying to ask about, but he’d avoided, because Tabbie was not going to be a woman easily swayed.
Even her father had warned him of this fact, when Caden asked his permission. And then he’d sent Caden to give convincing Tabbie “his best go.”
It was unorthodox to say the least, that he’d travelled here alone, her father remaining in London and not chaperoning his daughter.
Caden had made sure her father was fine with all of this. “Would you prefer I wait for your return to Dover?”
“No,” her father had waved his hand. “Tabbie stopped being a debutante some time ago and I completely abandoned moderating her behavior not long after. She is her own woman and she damn near broke me when I tried to rein her in.”
Caden had laughed. “That’s what I like about her.”
