Page 33 of The Lady in Pearls
Seamus’s face turned ashen as he stared at Daphne and the coach driver clutching Lachlan’s body, blood coating their hands and the road.
“I dinnae mean to!” The lad’s bottom lip quivered.
“Help me get him into the coach,” she told the driver. She turned to the farmer and boy. “Do you have horses?”
“Aye.”
“Fetch the nearest doctor. Send him to the castle.”
The old man struck the boy’s backside. “You heard her ladyship!”
Seamus sprinted back into the underbrush. The farmer helped Daphne and the driver lift Lachlan into the coach. The farmer stayed inside with Daphne, who kept the blood-soaked bit of cloth pressed tight to Lachlan’s temple.
The ride back to the castle seemed to last forever. Daphne panted softly as she focused on Lachlan. His eyes opened halfway, as if he were dreaming and not losing a perilous amount of blood.
“My pearl,” Lachlan said drowsily and raised one hand to brush her cheek.
She clasped his hand in hers. “I’m here.” His eyes closed but his breathing remained steady. When they reached Huntley Castle, Daphne ordered the farmer and driver to carry Lachlan to the drawing room.
Moira rushed down the steps. “Lachlan!”
“He was grazed by a bullet.” Daphne caught Moira’s arm. “Have the footmen bring hot water and fresh towels.”
Moira whirled and rushed into the house, calling for footmen. Daphne led the driver and the farmer into the drawing room, where they placed him on a chaise lounge.
She continued to keep the cloth firmly pressed to his wound the entire time.
“What else can I do, my lady?” the farmer asked.
“Watch for the doctor.”
She wiped the blood on the side of Lachlan’s head, wincing.
“What happened?” Moira’s voice broke as she rushed into the room, two footmen following, their arms full of supplies.
“Hold this.” She took Moira’s hand and pressed it against the cloth to keep pressure on Lachlan’s wound. Then she stood and took one of the cloths from a footman. She offered him a whisper of thanks before she dipped the cloth in the bowl of hot water. She returned to Lachlan and pressed a new, clean cloth to his temple.
“Daphne, what happened?” Moira demanded again.
“One of the tenant farmer’s children was hunting and the bullet grazed Lachlan’s head. If it’s only a surface wound, he will be all right. Head wounds bleed more than others.”
Moira’s eyes were pinned to her son’s pale face. “How do you know?”
“My father had friends who served in the military and shared rather vivid memories from the wars. One of them mentioned that a head wound such as this bled a lot, but wasn’t fatal as long as the injured person was seen by a physician right away.
There was a commotion outside the drawing room and the boy from the forest appeared. Behind him came a gentleman in a black waistcoat and trousers. He carried a black medicine bag as he rushed to Lachlan’s side.
Moira and Daphne gave the doctor space to examine Lachlan’s head wound. Moira slipped a hand in hers and they clung to each other, holding their breaths while the doctor tended to Lachlan. He spent several minutes closing the wound with stiches and then cleansed it. When he finished, he faced them with a relieved smile.
“His Lordship should be fine. He’ll need his bandages changed daily until the wound fully heals. No riding, bending over, or anything else that requires physical exertion until the stiches have been removed.”
Daphne glanced at Moira and then she turned back to the doctor. “I believe we can manage that.”
“What can we do for him now?”
“For now, you must let him rest. I will leave you some further instructions before I go.”
“Thank you.” Moira wiped away a tear before she shooed the footmen away.
