Page 27 of A Raven Reformed

Bexley looked slightly green around the gills as he stared at the wound. “Well, we’ll just see what the doctor says when he arrives, shall we?”

Giles held out a glass of amber liquid. “Drink this, old chap. It will help.”

Michael shook his head. Even pain wasn’t going to send him down that path again. A footman handed him a folded cloth and he pressed it against his torn flesh, gritting his teeth against the pain. Hopefully it would stem the bleeding at least.

Michael was relieved when he spotted Ash and Patrick returning. Leave it to the pair of them to run straight for a madman with a gun. Patrick carried a rifle, but they didn’t have anyone else with them.

After getting rid of the gun somewhere, they returned to the group just as the doctor arrived. “Must have just been a poacher who shot this way by mistake. We didn’t find anyone.” Patrick shrugged, and the others seemed to take it as a sufficient explanation.

“Let’s get him into the house, gentlemen,” the doctor said, after taking a quick look at the wound.

“I can walk now, thank you.” Michael shrugged off his helpers. He didn’t like feeling so weak and vulnerable. They all walked to the house together.

“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, I’m going to escort Lord Dalinridge up to his chambers where I can see to the wound.”

Michael was relieved when Ash followed him rather than staying with the group. He had questions that needed answering as soon as the doctor was finished.

“I’m glad you joined us, Lord…”

“Just Ash.” The doctor furrowed his brow momentarily but simply nodded.

“You can be my assistant,” he said, pulling chairs and tables where he needed them.

“Well,” Ash chuckled, “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Now,” the doctor said, drawing up a syringe. “Let’s get some morphine into you.”

“No,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“You’re lucky that it’s only a flesh wound and didn’t hit the bone, but it is quite deep and will need to be stitched. Trust me when I say you’re going to want something to ease the pain.”

Michael shook his head again. “I’ll be fine.”

“No disrespect, Lord Dalinridge, but I am the doctor here, and I am telling you, you’ll need it.”

Michael used a voice that brooked no arguments. “You can either treat me without it, or you can leave.”

The doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Very well,” he said with a huff. “But it is going to hurt… a lot.”

“I understand,” Michael said with a nod. Knowing how much of a vice alcohol could be for him, opium, in any form, was not something he ever wanted to try. He’d seen what could happen to people who became addicted to the drug.

“Let’s get that shirt off, then,” Dr. Humboldt said with a resigned sigh.

Ash helped him with the left sleeve, where the injury was. The doctor positioned his arm on top of a towel on the back of the chair and instructed Ash to hold him still.

“Brace yourself,” he warned before pouring some liquid onto the wound. Fire blazed through his arm and Ash had to fight to keep him still. He bit down on his fist to muffle the howl that erupted from his throat. The doctor had not exaggerated the intensity of the pain.

Ash’s hand squeezed his uninjured shoulder. His whole body was shaking by the time the pain began to abate. “You going to live?” Ash asked him.

Michael nodded. “Let’s get this over with, Doc.”

With a sigh, Dr. Humboldt set to the task of stitching the wound closed, asking Ash for different instruments as he worked. The stitches were painful and tedious, but nothing compared to the initial dose of agony. When he was finished, he covered the wound with some kind of ointment and wrapped Michael’s arm with a bandage.

“You’ll need rest to make sure infection doesn’t set in.”

“It’s not an ideal time for resting. You might have noticed I currently have guests?” Michael argued.

“He’ll rest,” Ash said, firmly. “I’ll send everyone home. I’m sure they’ll all understand.” The doctor gave Ash a nod of approval.

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