Betrayal. Georgina Devon
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Название: Betrayal
Автор: Georgina Devon
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781408933732
isbn:
‘I’d be doing you no favors if I didn’t warn you, lad.’
‘Thank you,’ Pippa muttered, trying to deepen her voice.
The surgeon looked at the patient. ‘This one is your special case. See that you let me know when gangrene sets in and the limb must be removed. You have until then to try and save the leg.’
‘I will do all I can,’ Pippa vowed, watching the steady, shallow rise and fall of the hurt man’s chest.
‘Meanwhile, there are others who need your services and your herbs.’ Turning from her, the surgeon bellowed, ‘Jones, stay with this lad and see that you get him what he needs.’
A tall, thin, battle-scarred sergeant ambled up. ‘Knew we was robbin’ the cradle for the fightin’, Major, but thought we wasn’t in need of babies to tend the sick.’
‘This young man has just performed as well as any army surgeon I know,’ the older man said. ‘Don’t go giving the lad trouble or I’ll have you confined to the hospital.’
Jones shuddered. ‘Horrible place. Dark and hot and stinking.’
‘A living morgue,’ Pippa whispered, her stomach churning. ‘Those poor men.’
‘Ah, Lord.’ Jones rolled his eyes. ‘The boy has that fervent look in his eyes. Now he’ll want to go nurse the bastards there.’
‘You are absolutely right,’ Pippa said firmly, squaring her shoulders and jutting out her chin. ‘Show me the way, Jones.’
‘What about this one?’ the surgeon said, stopping Pippa in her tracks. ‘Do you intend to leave him here, exposed to the elements?’
Pippa’s gaze travelled over the patient. He was tall and well-formed, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was a spectacular man. She didn’t want him going to the filth and squalor of the hospital.
He is your patient, she told herself. Patient and nothing more. He might not even live.
With difficulty, she forced her concentration to his medical problem. Because of the bands of muscles in his legs, it had been difficult for her to relax his calf enough to open the wounds so she could clean them. It was a good sign because of the strength it showed he had, but he had already been exposed to the wind, sun and rain too much. For the benefit of his limb, he should be sheltered.
‘If you can spare the men, Major,’ she addressed the surgeon the way the sergeant had done so, ‘I’ll give them directions to my lodgings. He…he can stay there. ‘Tis a single room only, but all that could be had.’
‘It’ll be done,’ the Major said. ‘And see if anyone recognizes him. He must have rooms of his own somewhere.’
It took some time before they found men to transport the unconscious soldier to Pippa’s lodgings, but when that was done, she set off for the hospital. She knew the men in the confines of the hospital would have less chance of survival than the ones littering the streets. Contagion spread easily in the crowded, dark places and probably the worst of the patients had been taken there.
She was right.
Loud moans woke Pippa from an exhausted sleep. Her head still ached from too many hours over the past weeks spent in the small, smelly quarters of the hospital, and it took her some time to become reoriented.
The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight entering through the single window, which she had opened in an attempt to get any slight breeze. It had not helped. Heat and humidity hung over Brussels like a pall, and she was sticky and miserable.
The moan came again.
It was her patient. Pippa rose from her pallet on the floor and hurried to the single bed where he lay. A sheen of moisture lit his forehead and the sheets were damp. His linen shirt clung to him, outlining the muscles of his chest and shoulders.
Pippa bit her lip and forced her attention back to his face. Even in the silvered light of the moon he looked flushed. She poured a small amount of bark into some water and knelt beside the bed. Gently she lifted his head and put the mixture to his lips. He swallowed thirstily.
‘That will ease the fever,’ she murmured to him, not expecting an answer. He had yet to regain consciousness since having the leg set, and she did not expect him to do so now.
‘Nothing will ease hell’s flames,’ he muttered, opening his eyes.
Their intensity held her spellbound. Although she knew they were bright from fever and sickness, they seared to her soul. She reached to put the empty container back on the nightstand and missed. It crashed to the floor.
‘Oh!’ Exasperation coloured the word. Now she would have to clean up the mess before she stepped or sat on a piece of glass.
‘Unless ‘tis a goddess,’ the man whispered, continuing his confused train of thought. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips.
Pippa’s attention snapped back to him. His gaze was roving over her face and down to the nightshirt she wore. The muslin sheath was loose, but the material was thin enough to show the swell of her bosom. She had removed the confining linen wrap because of the heat and now regretted the comfort that one action had given her in the moist heat. His intimate perusal was making her heart pound. She told herself it was fear that he would discover her charade.
‘You are mistaken, sir. I am a youth, not a maid.’
‘And I am the Prince Regent,’ he muttered, his mouth curving into a rakish grin. ‘No man of my acquaintance has such translucent skin. Nor eyes of such lustre. Green as new grass in a summer meadow. Or are they silver?’ he muttered, his voice turning querulous as he sought to focus in the dim light. Giving up, he closed his eyes. ‘God, but I hurt!’
‘You have been grievously injured,’ Pippa said, forcing her voice down an octave. ‘I…I have been tending you.’
Her subterfuge was wasted. He had passed out again.
Her worry of exposure was immediately replaced by worry for his leg. Was it worsening? Lighting a candle, she quickly examined him. The wound had finally scabbed over several days ago, but the bandage needed changing. Thank goodness there had been enough materials for her to have extra. She changed the dressing quickly and efficiently. Next, she had to lower his fever.
She soaked a cloth in water, wrung it out, and wiped it across his brow and cheeks and down his neck. Hopefully this would bring the fever down while the bark worked from inside. The water was warm, but it was better than doing nothing. She dipped and wrung the cloth again.
If he were not so well muscled and completely inert, she would move him and change the bedding, but she had learned early that he was too heavy for her. Instead, she lifted up his nightshirt as best she could and ran the cloth down his chest and across his ribs, tempted to follow the trail of brown hairs that led beneath the covers. Intellectually she knew that cooling his groin would ease some of the heat from his body, but just the idea of doing so made her stomach knot.
She did not know what was wrong with her. She never СКАЧАТЬ