Page 81 of Crash Landing
If anything good could be said of this night, it was that the shot had torn clear through his arm, and no surgery beyond a few stitches would be necessary.
But that limb was a rather nasty mess at the moment.
Florence was undone by it. She cried as they left Hermia’s bedchamber and yelped in dismay each time he wobbled on the way to his quarters, which he did a time or two because his strength was fading fast.
“Florence, perhaps you had better remain with Hermia while Sebastian—”
“No! I am staying with you. Don’t you dare make me leave your side. I have to be with you. Imust.”
She cried even harder. Because she was dying inside to see him hurt.
“Hush,” he said gently, and kissed the top of her head again. “This isn’t your fault.”
“It isallmy fault.”
“Stop, love. Not even I thought Frampton was venal enough to send a man to kill you.”
“And he almost killedyouinstead. I don’t want to lose you, Trajan. I cannot. My heart will never recover. Don’t you see that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”
“Mutual, Florence.”
She shook her head vehemently. “How can you possibly think I am any good for you? All I’ve brought you is havoc and pain. But you are my dream man.”
He laughed.
“You are,” she insisted. “All my life, I was made to feel worthless by those who should have loved me. Then you came along and openedyourheart to me. You cared for me and protected me. I love you so much. I knew it from the first moment I set eyes on you.”
He laughed. “Our very first meeting on the Bromleigh property? You were up a tree even then.”
She nodded. “And so scared of my feelings that I tried to avoid you as much as possible. Please tell me you will survive this.”
He had never seen Florence, this strong, stubborn woman, sovulnerable. Knowing how guarded she had been all of her life, he understood what it took for her to open up and reveal how deeply she cared for him.
He groaned and kissed the top of her head once again because she had kept her eyes downcast all the while, too ashamed of herself to look up at him. “It is merely a flesh wound, love. I will survive it.”
“Promise me you will.”
“Not only will I promise you, but we are going to leave for London at first light tomorrow, just as planned.”
“No!” She stared at him in disbelief. “How can you risk it? You need to recover.”
“A night’s rest is all I need.”
“We’ll ask the doctor what he thinks,” she said, mistakenly believing the doctor’s decision would resolve this disagreement.
It wouldn’t. If he was still breathing come sunrise, Trajan was going to ride off with her to London. Nothing mattered more to him than getting rid of those infernal letters.
It was just after midnight by the time the doctor arrived to tend to his injury, which Trajan estimated would require over a dozen stitches to fix.
“That many?” Florence asked, paling.
“A bit more than that, I’m afraid. It could have been worse,” Dr. Pritchard replied. “His Grace is fortunate it is merely a flesh wound. There are no fragments of lead lodged in the muscle or bone, just a nasty tear that stitches will repair. However, it will leave a scar.”
Florence groaned.
Trajan caught her as she teetered. “You shouldn’t be in here while the doctor stitches me up.” Besides, his shirt was off, and that left him naked from the waist up. Not a proper sight for an unmarried lady.
Although there was nothing proper about anything Florence had done leading up to now.
