Part 32 (1/2)
”Tom, fetch the surgeon to Trees. The rest of you collect our friends and follow.”
”Aye, m'lord,” echoed all.
Mallatt whipped the team up even as Cavilon made to step into the coach.
Lord Adrian lay unconscious in Juliane's arms, her hand pressing the pad tightly to his wound.
”Another,” she snapped as the warm blood seeping through stained her hands.
Cavilon knelt on the coach floor. ”Put his shoulders in your lap. You will be able to staunch the blood more easily. I will help.”
The coach rolled on endlessly. Infrequent glimpses of Adrian's face in the moonlight fed Juliane's worst
fears for his life. She knew her happiness now lay only with him.
Finally there was a last lurch and Mallatt's shouts announced that they were at home at last.
A sleepy-eyed Holdt was jerked from drowsiness as Cavilon handed out the blood-spattered children.
”Quickly,” the comte ordered. ”The earl is wounded.”
The remainder of the night was a blur to Juliane. Lady Tretain took charge. The arrival of the surgeon signalled their removal from Adrian's chamber.
”Bess has a bath drawn for you. We can do nothing but await the surgeon's judgment,” the dowager told
her.
”The children have been given the fright of their lives. You must make yourself presentable and go to them.”
”But I-” Juliane turned to Adrian's door.
”To your bath. We will be told how he does.” With a wave of her hand, the dowager countess motioned
Juliane away.
Morning brought a false calm. The surgeon had departed with a.s.surances that the shot had been removed, and although his lords.h.i.+p had lost a lot of blood, his recovery was certain, barring infection.
Leaving a potion and instructions, he went his way, promising to return by evening to check his patient.
Juliane had seen to the children and then sat with Lord Adrian. She snuffed out the candles as full light flooded the room. He stirred. Taking his hand, she murmured softly, soothingly.
Adrian lay still for some time, then stirred once more. Muttering, he began tossing about.
”Mallatt,” Juliane called. ”We must hold him still. The wound will open.
”Adrian,” she urged, ”rest. You are at Trees.”
”Lie still now. You were shot. If you keep moving, you will start the bleeding again. Hush now, lie quietly.”
”Angel-my angel,” he struggled to open his eyes. ”Lost her.”
”No one is lost,” Juliane said softly, tears in her eyes. If only he were to speak so of her. Feeling him relax in her hold, she blinked back her tears. His eyes were open. His feverish gaze was neither hard nor cold as it met hers.
”Angel,” he sighed happily. ”You ... came ... back.”
Mallatt deemed his presence unnecessary and quietly left the chamber.
”You were wounded, Adrian. The man in the coach-he shot you,” she managed.
He closed his eyes tiredly and shook his head slowly. ”Were you ... harmed?”
”No,” she answered. ”The children were frightened witless but are well now. Andre has asked after
you.”
Lord Adrian smiled weakly. ”What happened to the one who shot me?”
”He was badly wounded.”
”Cavilon,” he sighed. ”Always dependable.”