Read Online A Most Delicate Pursuit by Pamela Labud - Free Book Online Page B

certainly don’t want anything to happen to you.”
    “Ah. Then you do care.” With that he winked at her and then ducked out of the cottage.
    Bea suddenly felt as if the floor had opened up beneath her. “That devil,” she muttered, still staring at the spot where he’d been standing.
    Of course she cared about him. She had from the very first night they’d met. But the expression he’d given her had suggested he knew the very secrets of her soul. The blasted man had unsettled her once again.
    Well, now it was her turn to challenge him. She only had to figure out how to do it.
    —
    After gathering breakfast for them, which included both the strawberries and four eggs he’d found not far from the cabin, he luckily found a narrow stream at the back of the property. Barely trickling, it would do for the moment. Though not as grand as was the habit at Summerton, he’d managed to boil the eggs over the fire in a pot that had been left over the fireplace.
    “Not a bad meal, eh?” he said. In spite of the nausea that stirred in his gut, he did his best to remain cheerful. He knew his fever was getting worse and he should have taken care of his shoulder, but he wanted to make sure she’d gotten some food and water in her. One of them would have to remain strong, after all.
    “It’s good,” she told him once they’d finished. “I do wish that we’d gotten some of our clothes from the carriage at least,” she told him, rubbing her arms and putting more branches on the fire.
    “Sorry, there wasn’t time…”
    He started to stand but a wave of dizziness came over him.
    “Here,” she said, suddenly at his side, helping him to the cot. “Your fever is worsening. It’s time we took care of your shoulder.”
    “I can’t argue with that, though I have to admit, I’m not looking forward to it.”
    Once he was lying down, Beatrice took the pot of now-cooling egg water and set it on the bench beside her. She paused a moment and looked over the wound.
    “I suppose we’ll have to get that shirt off first.”
    He nodded, and even that small effort made his gut roil.
    “It’ll be best to dampen it with warm water and then gently pull it away.” Holding his breath, he tensed while she set to work.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said once she’d begun to gently pull the fabric.
    “Argh!” he grunted as she gave it a final tug, freeing the cloth and the clotted blood from his tender wound.
    “Oh, dear,” she said. “Sorry. I think that’s the worst of it.”
    “Good.” He let out a breath and steeled him for the question he must ask. “Is the branch still stuck in the wound?”
    She sent him a worried expression. “It is. I don’t know how big it is or how deep. What should I do?”
    Licking his lips dry, Michael did his best to ignore the throbbing pain. “You have to pull it out. Then irrigate the wound. I don’t think we have any cloth to spare for a field dressing.”
    “I’ll use my shift. It should do nicely.”
    He faltered. In spite of his current condition, he found the thought of a shiftless Beatrice to be most disturbing.
    “Are you sure you should do that? I mean, you’ve need of your undergarments, after all.”
    “If I were attending a party, yes, but here in the wilderness? Who’s going to question it?”
    He let out a breath and did his best to calm his careening thoughts. “Of course, you’re correct. I was shot in Spain, you know. The other arm. No lovely lady there to care for it, though. The medic was a most disturbing fellow who had the appearance of a skeleton himself and breath that would knock down an ox.”
    “Tell me about the war,” she said.
    He gasped as she began pushing around the wound. “It’s not a fit discussion for a lady.”
    “You don’t have to tell me the gory details, but surely there was more than that. What about army life?”
    Bless her, Michael thought. She was doing her best to distract him. He’d never doubted that she was an intelligent woman,