Page 42 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
Milly wiped at the blood, clearing the red, inflamed wound. Once that was done, Jack cut into her husband’s stomach with the scalpel, digging; the sound of blood and flesh shifting made Milly wince and fight back more tears. And then she saw it, the dull gleam of the lead ball as Jack worked it up to the surface. He deftly removed the ball and dropped it in a small metal tin Milly hadn’t even noticed he’d put next to his supplies.
“Clean the wound again,” Jack instructed. She did as he told her, and then she kept hold of Owen’s hand as Jack used a metal needle and thick dark thread. He stitched the wound, but Milly couldn’t watch that. She stroked bits of Owen’s dark hair out of his face and held her breath.
“Will he make it, Mr. Watson?” Mrs. Nelson asked. She clutched the bottle of gin to her bosom, her eyes wide and anxiety creating tense lines around her mouth.
Jack placed two fingers on Owen’s bare wrist and pulled out a silver pocket watch. For a full minute he studied the watch and held Owen’s wrist.
“His pulse is steady. A little weak, but I think he stands a good chance. Stomach wounds are usually fatal but sometimes the bullet passes through a spot that misses all vital organs. From what I could tell, we’re damned lucky it’s the latter. It’s blood loss and infection we need to watch for now.” Jack glanced around, then called out, “Mr. Boyd, get a few strong lads to help me lift him onto the bed. We’ll clean the wound once more and bandage him up.” Jack wiped his hands off on a spare cloth and turned to Milly, gently prying her grip off Owen’s hands.
“Let them get him all settled.” Jack’s voice was soothing, doctorly, and she nodded, letting go of Owen’s hand. She clenched her hands together as she watched the men lift Owen and put him on the bed. Mrs. Nelson volunteered to clean the wound and helped Jack bandage him up. Once she had gotten it all cleaned, Milly perched on the bed beside Owen and clasped his hand once they had tucked him beneath the covers. Jack remained with her, sitting in a chair opposite the bed, his eyes still sharp and clear. Silence lay thick between them and she almost thought he wouldn’t say anything.
“I’m so sorry I’ve done this to you, Milly. To you and Owen.”
She blinked and wiped at her eyes. “Owen told me some of what it was like during the war. I cannot begin to know how hard that must be to live with.” She paused and raised her gaze to his. “But you owe it to yourself not to take the coward’s way out. There are people here to help you. Owen, the Earl of Hampton, me. You have friends who love you enough to fight you for a gun. You owe it to them, too, to fight every day for happiness.” Like I have. She realized as she spoke that in the few weeks since she and Owen had married, they had struggled and successfully won some measure of happiness together.
“It wasn’t the war that made me lose myself.” Jack dragged a hand through his hair and his eyes drifted to the window, as though seeing something she could not.
“You mean Scarlett and the baby.” She didn’t make it a question.
Jack shrugged one shoulder, but the quiet grief in his eyes tore at her heart as she finally nodded.
“Would you take my advice, Jack?” They’d been through so much in the last hour she knew they were beyond the formality of last names.
“I’m listening.” He focused on her again.
“You still have a chance to live a life, possibly with Ms. Brandon. She begged Owen to release her from their engagement well after you’d gone. And it had nothing to do with the baby. She is still holding her heart for you. Trust my feminine instincts.”
A glimmer of hope, a tiny one, flickered in his eyes.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He stood and glanced at the door. “I’ll go have a word with Mrs. Nelson and have her send some food up for you while I wait for the town doctor.”
Milly nodded and watched him leave. The burden on her heart eased slightly. After a few minutes, Owen’s hands suddenly tightened around hers, and his eyes opened.
“Milly?” He choked out her name in a soft gasp.
She leaned closer, trying to put her face in his line of sight.
“I’m here.” She brushed an unruly lock of hair back from his eyes. “I’m here, Owen.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’m not dead.” He chuckled and then winced. “Must have passed out from blood loss and pain.” He attempted to sit up, but Milly pressured a hand on his shoulder.
“Stay down, you stubborn man,” she huffed. “You were shot.”
“I’m not likely to forget that.” He reached over and touched her hand, covering it with his. When their gazes locked, she was swept away by the tide of emotions.
“I meant what I said.” His tone was soft, but each word was clear and firm, her heart skipping a painful beat.
“Meant what?” she finally dared to ask.
“That you were the best thing in my life. You are,” he amended, smiling.
The bashful expression on a naturally seductive man stirred deep, confusing feelings in her. She was so used to his wicked smiles, ones intended to make her want to strip out of her clothes and climb into bed with him, but this smile…it was so much more…It was a smile of love, not seduction.
She hadn’t forgotten what she’d told him as she thought he was dying. I love you. She couldn’t deny it, but accepting it was terrifying. What if he didn’t love her back?
She couldn’t—
“Milly.” Owen sighed wearily and was pushing himself up into a sitting position before she could stop him. He swayed, cursed softly, and favored his stomach before he met her gaze.
