Lost in Your Arms Read Online Free PDF

more of their history.
    She could hear men moving below, a greeting, then the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Behind her, Mr. Kinman stirred and groaned, a great hulking man who feared the sight of blood. But only one thing was important now. To give MacLean a fighting chance. “MacLean.”She repeated his name, thinking surely he would respond to that above all else. “You could have lost an eye to the flying glass, but you were lucky there, too. And the break in your leg was dreadful.” As the sound of booted feet grew closer, she began the torturous process of unwrapping the limb. “But somehow you’ve thrown off any infection. You’ll walk again. So tell me, MacLean, why are you still asleep?”
    “He’s asleep, young lady, because of the blow he sustained to the head.” A bewhiskered gentleman stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in brown tweed and smelling of tobacco. A superior gentleman, and from his expression, one given to scorn and an unwarranted haughtiness. “I’m Dr. Bridges, and I demand to know what you think you’re doing!”
    Mr. Throckmorton stood behind him in the shadows, and for all that he allowed Dr. Bridges to take the lead, Enid addressed only him, “Mr. Throckmorton, I’m washing MacLean. He was filthy.” Enid tossed her rag into the basin. “Mr. Kinman, could I prevail upon you to discard this and bring more warm, clean water?”
    Mr. Kinman groaned again, then crawled toward her and held up his hands.
    She placed the basin in them and admonished, “Don’t spill it.”
    “I won’t,” Mr. Kinman whispered. Staggering to his feet, he headed for the stairs.
    Dr. Bridges’s luxuriant mustache quivered with indignation at being ignored. “Young lady, I am a trained physician, a graduate of Oxford, and what you’re doing is wrong.”
    “Perhaps it is, but what you’re doing is killing him.”She kept her voice low, for if she didn’t, she would have started shouting again, and that might disturb the patient.
    She glanced at MacLean’s slack features.
    Although she might come to shouting yet, if that would wake him.
    “Even a sick man deserves to be washed and to rest on clean sheets,” she said.
    “Those bandages were the only thing keeping the swelling down.” Dr. Bridges gestured toward MacLean. “Look at him! Now that you’ve removed them, he’s puffing up like a toad.”
    He was, and Enid’s heart sank. If only she’d had time to finish assessing MacLean before facing her opponent and her judge. “I’ll pack him in ice to keep the swelling down. Mr. Throckmorton, can you commandeer me ice?”
    “Indeed.” Mr. Throckmorton walked to the stairs, called down and gave the order, then returned to watch Enid and the doctor, weighing them both with austere resolution.
    Mr. Kinman returned, looking a little less ill and a great deal more interested in the conversation. He set the basin on the bedstand and offered clean rags and a small towel filled with ice. When she took them he offered a quick nod of encouragement.
    He didn’t like the doctor, either.
    Mr. Kinman stepped back to stand by Mr. Throckmorton.
    She placed the towel across MacLean’s nose and over his eyes, taking care that it should not block his airway. Wetting the rag, she stroked it over MacLean’sthigh. She could clearly see the scarring where the bone had protruded through the skin. Yet the bone had set straight and true. If he survived, he would walk again, and she recognized that miracle.
    “Fresh air. While you bathe him!” Like a spectator in a tennis match, Dr. Bridges looked from window to window. “The chill will kill him.”
    Enid’s indignation rose anew. “This chamber was like a mausoleum, not a sickroom. How is MacLean to know when to wake if he’s held in a prison?”
    “Wake? You think he’s going to wake? We can scarcely get water into him, and I’d like to know how you’ll do better, young lady!” The doctor’s whiskers quivered with resentment. “You’ve