Read Online Wicked Angel (Blackthorne Trilogy) by Shirl Henke - Free Book Online
Authors: Shirl Henke
Ads: Link
heaven a lung wasn't punctured. If one was, he would most certainly be spitting up blood and be unable to speak without a rattle in his throat.
"Lie facedown on the table," she instructed. "I'll have to cleanse the wound and perhaps stitch it."
"Now see here, m'dear. The need is not for a laundress and seamstress," Drum said. "We need a surgeon."
Alex swallowed a chuckle as he repositioned himself on the table. Joss and Drum faced each other like a pair of mismatched prizefighters. Although she was half a head taller than he, he remained coolly undaunted. "Forgive me for not making introductions earlier. Miss Jocelyn Woodbridge, may I present Mr. Alvin Frances Edward Drummond, Drum to his friends."
"You may call me Mr. Drummond," he replied without missing a beat. "Your servant, Miss Woodbridge." He clicked his heels and made a sketchy bow.
Ignoring his antics, she said "I'm going to get water and bandages. Hold this on the wound until I return." Joss seized Drum's hand and pressed it over the bloody linen she had replaced on the injury.
"Bossy chit," he sniffed.
"You should see her in a fight. She doesn't even need a knife—or a sword cane."
"A veritable Amazon," Drum said sourly.
Joss returned with medical supplies and began to cleanse the jagged puncture wound. "You must have moved just as
he struck the blade into you," she said, biting her lip in concentration.
"I regret I didn't hold still but I had other things on my mind, such as the other fellow who was trying to gut me," he gritted out as she poured some wickedly burning solution into the wound.
"Probably it's as well you did not, else you might have had your lung punctured by a deeper blow. As it is, the cut is jagged and messy but I don't think lethal—unless you take a fever."
As Joss stitched him, her hands touched the bare skin of his back, so dark and sleekly muscled. She occasionally assisted the doctors in surgery. The unclothed male body—at least the upper half of it—was no novelty to her. Yet Alex affected her far more than any other. When she had first recognized him lying caked with blood, her heart had frozen in her chest. How dare he risk his life in a wastrel's lark? She willed herself to anger, hoping it could drive away that other unnamed and terrifying emotion.
He is my friend. Of course I'm concerned for him. One thing Jocelyn Angelica Woodbridge had never done before was deceive herself. She knew the trembling that traveled up from her fingertips to form a knot in the pit of her belly was far, far more than concern over a friend. But she dared not admit it.
"The medicine I brought from the Muskogee will guard against fever," Alex said to keep his thoughts off the pain. "You know, you're almost as good at sewing me up as Grandma Charity."
"I take it she had a deal of practice working on you," she replied evenly. "I see you have scars aplenty from brawling."
"A few are from chunky, er, a Muskogee athletic contest ... close enough to brawling by your standards," he murmured, feeling light-headed from the pain in his back.
When she had finished stitching him, Joss enlisted Drum's aid with the bandaging, beginning by helping Alex to sit up so they could wrap the linen around his torso tightly to prevent more bleeding. She had to admit that for all his fussy ways and superior airs, the dandy was calm and not at all squeamish when it came to doing what needed to be done. Once she had finished with the dressing, she pulled a clean nightshirt from the chest in the corner.
Seeing it, Alex nodded. "Good. I'll need something to wear under my coat. That shirt is beyond repair."
"Surely you don't think you can walk out of here?" she replied incredulously.
"Certainly you don't
"Lie facedown on the table," she instructed. "I'll have to cleanse the wound and perhaps stitch it."
"Now see here, m'dear. The need is not for a laundress and seamstress," Drum said. "We need a surgeon."
Alex swallowed a chuckle as he repositioned himself on the table. Joss and Drum faced each other like a pair of mismatched prizefighters. Although she was half a head taller than he, he remained coolly undaunted. "Forgive me for not making introductions earlier. Miss Jocelyn Woodbridge, may I present Mr. Alvin Frances Edward Drummond, Drum to his friends."
"You may call me Mr. Drummond," he replied without missing a beat. "Your servant, Miss Woodbridge." He clicked his heels and made a sketchy bow.
Ignoring his antics, she said "I'm going to get water and bandages. Hold this on the wound until I return." Joss seized Drum's hand and pressed it over the bloody linen she had replaced on the injury.
"Bossy chit," he sniffed.
"You should see her in a fight. She doesn't even need a knife—or a sword cane."
"A veritable Amazon," Drum said sourly.
Joss returned with medical supplies and began to cleanse the jagged puncture wound. "You must have moved just as
he struck the blade into you," she said, biting her lip in concentration.
"I regret I didn't hold still but I had other things on my mind, such as the other fellow who was trying to gut me," he gritted out as she poured some wickedly burning solution into the wound.
"Probably it's as well you did not, else you might have had your lung punctured by a deeper blow. As it is, the cut is jagged and messy but I don't think lethal—unless you take a fever."
As Joss stitched him, her hands touched the bare skin of his back, so dark and sleekly muscled. She occasionally assisted the doctors in surgery. The unclothed male body—at least the upper half of it—was no novelty to her. Yet Alex affected her far more than any other. When she had first recognized him lying caked with blood, her heart had frozen in her chest. How dare he risk his life in a wastrel's lark? She willed herself to anger, hoping it could drive away that other unnamed and terrifying emotion.
He is my friend. Of course I'm concerned for him. One thing Jocelyn Angelica Woodbridge had never done before was deceive herself. She knew the trembling that traveled up from her fingertips to form a knot in the pit of her belly was far, far more than concern over a friend. But she dared not admit it.
"The medicine I brought from the Muskogee will guard against fever," Alex said to keep his thoughts off the pain. "You know, you're almost as good at sewing me up as Grandma Charity."
"I take it she had a deal of practice working on you," she replied evenly. "I see you have scars aplenty from brawling."
"A few are from chunky, er, a Muskogee athletic contest ... close enough to brawling by your standards," he murmured, feeling light-headed from the pain in his back.
When she had finished stitching him, Joss enlisted Drum's aid with the bandaging, beginning by helping Alex to sit up so they could wrap the linen around his torso tightly to prevent more bleeding. She had to admit that for all his fussy ways and superior airs, the dandy was calm and not at all squeamish when it came to doing what needed to be done. Once she had finished with the dressing, she pulled a clean nightshirt from the chest in the corner.
Seeing it, Alex nodded. "Good. I'll need something to wear under my coat. That shirt is beyond repair."
"Surely you don't think you can walk out of here?" she replied incredulously.
"Certainly you don't
Similar Books
