The Heir - Catherine Coulter [141]
“No, damn you, Paul, no! She is my daughter!”
The earl said calmly, “Please, Ann, if Paul wants you gone, please go. Gervaise shot her thorough the shoulder. He himself is very likely dead now. Please, do as Paul says.”
“Please, my darling. You would distract me. Please let me tend to your daughter as I should, Ann. Send Giles up when he arrives with my instruments.”
The earl didn’t say another word. He watched as Lady Ann turned slowly, grief and fear clear in every movement she made, and walked to the open door.
Paul called out, “She will survive, Ann, I promise you.”
Lady Ann nodded, then thought: Elsbeth was already here? She had witnessed some of this? She would speak to her. Lady Ann picked up her skirts and ran full-tilt down the corridor.
As Dr. Branyon cleaned the wound and probed the area to determine the depth of the ball, the earl told him all that had happened. His voice was low, his choice of words placing entire blame upon himself, which Paul said, even though he never raised his face to look at the earl, was utter nonsense. “No, it’s true. I was an idiot not to carry a gun with me.”
“No, you feared for Arabella’s safety. Now, is that all?” Dr. Branyon asked, his eyes hard upon the earl’s face.
The earl thought about it. “No, there are other things, but it is not for me to tell you. I think it only fair for Arabella to tell you the rest of it and that only if she wants to. All right?”
Dr. Branyon nodded. Then he straightened. “You know that I must remove the ball when Giles arrives with my instruments. You have had experience with wounded men in battle, Justin. You must assist me.”
“Yes, I will assist you. She will live, won’t she, Paul? She must, you know. She is my other half.”
“I know,” Dr. Branyon said, looking at the young earl’s face, a face he had come to know and like during the past weeks, weeks veiled in mystery and danger. And now, his Bella was lying here, close to death. But he wouldn’t say that to her husband.
The earl realized that he was clasping Arabella’s hand. He did not release it.
Arabella moaned.
Both men stiffened at the sound, their eyes meeting over Arabella’s still figure.
“It isn’t fair, Paul,” the earl said, his voice harsh, raw with anger. “It isn’t. It is too much for her to suffer you removing the ball from her shoulder.”
For an instant Arabella felt only a great weight upon her chest. With an effort she forced her eyes to open and focus upon the faces above her. She felt bewildered. “Justin—Paul? You are both here? How very odd. Oh dear, I cannot bear this.” She gasped, her back arcing. “I’m so sorry to be such a coward.”
The pain was unbearable, deep and rending. She pressed her head back against the pillow as hard as she could, again arcing her back upward, trying vainly to escape. She felt a damp cloth being daubed against her forehead, strong hands clasping her shoulders, holding her steady.
Slowly she began to gain control over the dizzying, scorching pain. She bit down on her lower lip until her mind focused itself where she wished.
“My dearest, can you understand me?”
Justin’s voice. He sounded so worried. She hated to hear him sound so very worried. She forced her eyes open. “Yes, my lord, what can I do for you? Just tell me and I will fix anything you require.”
“Do for me? Bella, you must be brave now. Do you understand me? The ball in your shoulder must be removed. Dr. Branyon is here. He is quite perfect, you know. He will shortly be your step-papa. He loves you a great deal. He will do a good job of it. He will keep you safe.”
“Gervaise distracted me, Justin. Otherwise I would have killed him. I bungled the job. I am sorry.” Did she hear a laugh? Then suddenly, she was no longer aware of him, only of the vast blackness of the pain that engulfed her.
The earl did not look up from her face until Giles entered on tiptoe bearing Dr. Branyon’s surgical case. He gazed at the sharp, slender scalpel and the array of other equally unpleasant