Page 84 of A Kiss Of Lies

Finally the doctor entered the drawing room. “The bullet’s out and her wound is cleaned and stitched. The dressings need to be changed regularly and the wound cleaned with alcohol. Now I’m afraid it’s a waiting game. Infection is the enemy.”

“Can I see her?” Christian asked.

The doctor nodded. “She’s not awake. Let her rest. She needs to conserve her strength.”

He didn’t need to say more. Christian had seen many men in the war survive their initial wounds only to succumb to the silent and invisible enemy—gangrene.

Christian shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you.” The doctor just looked at him with pity.

Before he went upstairs to see Serena, he turned to Hadley. “Please, let Lily know Serena is fine and I’ll come and see her tonight.” Hadley had taken Lily to the Coldhurst residence. She would remain there until they knew Serena was out of danger.

Once in her room, Christian sat next to Serena’s bed and took her hand in his. Closing his eyes, he prayed she’d live. He almost had his dream. Dennett was dead and Serena would be his wife—if she lived.

“Fight, darling. Live. We almost have our dream. Don’t let anything snatch my—our—happiness away. I love you so much. . . .”

He laid his head on the pillow beside her head and let the tears flow.

In his time of need, his fellow Libertine Scholars didn’t desert him. Jock Fanselow was being held by the magistrate, his arrest kept secret. They didn’t want anyone to know he’d been caught. The less the enemy knew, the better, since they were still so much in the dark over who wanted all six of them disgraced and then dead.

The men took it in turns to sit with Serena. Christian told them to talk to her. He remembered that when he had been delirious from the pain of his burns, the sound of those he knew had helped him to fight to stay in the land of the living.

Worry gnawed at him until his stomach churned with it. He hadn’t eaten or slept for days. His mind and body were stretched to breaking point. He was exhausted, frayed, and choked with fear that she’d die. If Serena did not recover . . . well, he would not think of that possibility. He could not face the world without her in it.

She was everything to him. Her beauty made him speechless and her kindness brought him to his knees. Every day since he’d met her, he thanked God for sending her to him. His dreams on the battlefields of Europe, of a full and happy life, fell or soared with her.

Plus, what would he tell Lily if she died? Christian had given her a good talking-to regarding her escapade to the dueling field, but he couldn’t scold too hard. She was too upset about Serena. Besides, Lily’s interference may well have saved his life. He’d never know if he could have bested Dennett.

He’d also finally relented and let Lily visit with Serena. He’d hoped it might make her open her eyes. Lily sat and chatted to her and was so brave. But she cried in the carriage all the way back to the Coldhurst residence.

With every moment that she lay comatose, he felt cold emptiness creeping back into his soul. His friends tried to reassure him, but they knew he was suffering. He didn’t even bother to mask his raw emotions. One day they too would meet a woman who was their reason for living, and then they would understand his terror.

He’d been out riding this morning. He had to clear his head and pour his energy into willing Serena to survive. He was just walking back from the stable when Arend came out of the front door and stood waving from the porch. “Christian, hurry! It’s Serena. She’s awake.”

Excitement flooded him, but he repressed it. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but it was a start, and as he began to run for the house, a smile tugged at his mouth. He raced inside and bounded up the stairs, his fatigue falling away like a loose cloak from his shoulders.

Serena was giggling at something Hadley was saying just as Christian burst through the door with Arend close behind him. When she saw his haggard face, her smile died on her lips—he’d been worried about her.

Love overflowed in her heart and filled her gaze as she reached out a hand to him.

He crossed the room to her bed in two long strides and stood speechless for a moment, staring at her with welling emerald-green eyes. He reached for her hand and grasped it firmly in his, as if he were never going to let go.

He sank into the chair by her bed, recently vacated by Hadley, and brought her hand fervently to his lips. His long-lashed eyes closed as if in silent prayer.

“I’m fine, Christian,” she whispered. “I’m strong like you and I’m going to live.”

He pressed her palm to his cheek and hoarsely said, “I’m going to bloody ensure you do.” He opened his eyes and, with a shaky voice, said, “I thought I’d lost you. I can’t live without you.”

“I don’t intend to ever get shot again. Once is more than enough,” she quietly said. “But Hadley’s told me the best news ever, Peter’s dead.”

“Yes,” and he broke into a beautiful smile. A smile that made his scars invisible.

He moved onto the bed and pulled her gently into his arms, careful of her heavily bandaged shoulder. She hugged him around his neck with her good arm and rested her head atop his hair, breathing in his scent. Right now his scent was the best thing she’d smelt in a long while.

She twirled his hair at his nape in her fingers, loving the feel of his hard body next to hers.

“Peter’s dead, and you’re alive,” she whispered into the room. “I still can’t believe I—we’re—going to get our happily ever after.”

He pulled back from her, and she could see him searching her face for her reaction. She stared at him defiantly. “I should be sad ,but I won’t pretend. I’m glad he’s dead.”

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