The Scot

“There now,” she said, nodding. “You see the importance of behaving yourself and shall be rewarded.” In moments, she had loosened the strips of linen that bound his ankles to the bedposts.

James breathed easier now, overwhelmingly relieved to see the columns of both legs right where they should be there beneath the blankets. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the welcome sight. One thigh was mounded over with what must be the bandages covering his wound. Gingerly, he tested his ability to move it. Bless God, it worked to some extent. It ached, but the pain was not piercing so long as he kept it still.

His head hurt much worse, as though it would explode. He reached up and explored his brow, feeling a sticking plaster.

“Either a bullet grazed it or you scraped it on a low hanging branch,” Susanna told him. “I stitched it myself.”

He heard the pride in her voice at the accomplishment. “Congratulations,” he snapped, busy raising the covers to have a closer look at the condition of his lower appendages. All was in order. And bare as the day he was born. He shot her a glance and saw her blush.

“Get that footman you spoke of. I need assistance.”

“I am here,” she informed him primly. “What do you need?”

James felt himself heat under her glare. And it wasn’t the fever. “Just get him in here! Now!”

She turned and trudged toward the door muttering. “I believe I liked you better when you were insensate.”

“How long was I out?” he asked. “Did I miss a day?”

“Three,” she answered succinctly, then disappeared into the other room.

Three days? She had tended him for that long? That must be why she appeared rather frazzled. He’d been a trial to her, James thought with a sigh. For three days she had nursed him dutifully and he’d rewarded her diligence and wifely care with sniping remarks and accusations. He would have to make it up to her somehow.

Before she returned, James had relegated his little wife to the status of sainthood and promised himself he would do all in his power to deserve such a woman. Had any man ever been so lucky? He didn’t think so.

The paragon swept in, her energies apparently renewed and the aforementioned footman in tow. She smiled at the servant. “Here is Thomas Snively who has been a godsend to us these past few days. I suppose you don’t remember him at all?”

“No, I suppose not.” James muttered, regarding the handsome, strapping fellow dressed in the fine hotel livery of dark wine trimmed in silver. “Snively.”

“Good morning, sir,” the man said. “We’re most happy to see you are better today. How may I assist you?”

Why was Susanna smiling so adoringly? Snively was obviously English, another mark against him, second only to his appearance. James felt the brutal stab of jealousy, a relatively unknown emotion for him and damned uncomfortable. He glared at Susanna, immediately reassessing her status as angel of mercy. “You may go now.”

Her lips pursed, the smile wiped away as if it had never existed. Of course, she was no longer looking at Snively. “I shall not be dismissed in such curt fashion!” she declared.

James closed his eyes and said softly through his gritted teeth, “Then I implore you, lady. Would you kindly vacate this chamber in order to spare yourself embarrassment?”

“Very well, since you put it so nicely.” She picked up her skirts and swept gracefully—and hurriedly—out of the room.

James heaved a huge sigh of relief and glanced up at Snively who looked vastly amused. “I make it policy never to strike a man bearing no threat, Thomas Snively, but I will have that smirk off your puckish face.”

“Yes, sir.” The smile sobered instantly.

“And your eyes off my wife,” James added.

“She’s an eyeful, I grant,” Snively said with a wry inclination of his head. He rocked on the balls of his feet. “But I have one as lovely at home who would slay me if I poached. Not that I’m inclined. Now should you like to test that leg or shall I fetch a bedpan?”

James groaned. “I’ve made a right jackass of myself, aye?”

“That you have,” agreed Snively as he approached and offered his arm. “But we’ll set you to rights soon enough. Ever been shot before?”

“No.” They continued to chat as Snively lent his support, seeming quite the expert at directing James in how to manage the damaged leg. In no time at all, he was standing, resting a moment or two at Thomas’s order, to recover from the dizziness of being upright after three days in bed.

Once he was back in bed, the dressings on his leg had been changed and the pain had subsided a bit, Thomas nodded. “This afternoon, I shall fetch you crutches. I expect you’ll be quite mobile in a few days’ time, though I shouldn’t attempt travel for at least a fortnight.”

“You sound like a doctor,” James accused.

“Guilty as charged. That is, I hope to be one day. I read medicine at University for six months of the year. The other six I work to finance my studies.”

James was impressed. “I wish you luck then. Believe me, I ken how difficult that must be.”

“I know you do. Lady Susanna told me about your work here in the city and why you do it. Most nobles would simply run up debts and let the devil take the hindmost.”

James ignored that. He knew it was true. “I need to send word to my employer. He’ll want to find a replacement.”

“Done, sir. Your lady asked me to discover your former address and settle matters with your landlord, so I did.”

“My tools and things? Where are they?”

“Here, of course. Everything but your clothing is crated and stored safely. I took it upon myself to ask the innkeep where you had been working and went to the construction site. Mr. Greaves sent his regrets that you were injured and produced a letter of recommendation and a cheque for the balance of your pay for the work accomplished. He bade me tell you that he will be hard-pressed to find another so skilled, but for you not to worry.”

For a moment, James was so overwhelmed he couldn’t speak. Then he shook his head. “’Tis good of you to go to so much trouble—”

Snively backed to the door. “No trouble at all, sir. It is common knowledge now, what you did for the earl. He has been quite generous to us during his visits to Edinburgh and is a particular favorite of the Royal Arms staff. I was glad to do whatever I could for you. You will let me know if there is anything else you need?”

James nodded. He felt humbled and not a little chagrined. He wished he were a wealthy man like Earl Eastonby so he could reward Thomas Snively properly. He found he didn’t much like being beholden, yet he would dislike it even more if he had to ask Susanna for funds. “I’ll owe you, Mr. Snively,” he said.

“It’s Tom, sir. And I shall hold you to the debt if you don’t mind. For starters, you might write a letter of commendation on my behalf to the concierge. I’m due a raise in pay and that might clinch it.”

“Good as done, Tom,” James promised. He trusted a man who understood obligation and the need to repay a good deed. “I want to thank you, too, for getting me through three days of fever.”

The footman threw back his head and laughed. “That was no fever, sir. A bit perhaps, but not enough to lay you low.”

“Nay?” James rubbed his aching head with the fingers of one hand. He realized then that the wound itself was barely sore, but the devil’s own cymbals were still clanging rhythmically inside his skull. “Then why do you think I was out for the count?”

Thomas explained. “Had I discovered before last evening that her ladyship was pouring liquor down your throat with an invalid-feeder to kill your pain, I would have dissuaded her sooner. If you’ll pardon the expression, sir, you’ve been drunk as a lord for three days.”

Chapter Five

“Susanna!”

She had just seen Thomas Snively out of the suite with an order for their evening meal and was about to rejoin the patient. The angry bellow from his room made her jump clear off the floor.

He must be still perturbed about the restraints. With an eye-rolling sigh, she trudged across the sitting room, snatching up the half-empty bottle of Scotch whisky as she went. She should have ordered more. This would hardly last through the night.

Her hair was falling down around her face, the chignon sagging to her nape in back. She hadn’t found time to give it a wash or more than a hasty brushing since before her wedding. Though she had left the room when Thomas had come to see to his needs every few hours, she had been afraid to stay away longer than absolutely necessary. Her father had made it very clear that her husband was her responsibility. And if the man died she would never be able to forgive herself.

She blew a frizzled strand out of one eye, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. “Yes? What is it?”