Lost in Your Arms Read Online Free PDF Page B

unwrapped his leg. I hope you haven’t ruined that, too.”
    Dabbing the leg dry with a towel, Enid considered the situation. Mr. Throckmorton had no reason to trust in her skill, while Dr. Bridges held a degree from the most prestigious medical school in England. But Enid had to stay with MacLean. He needed her if he was to survive. More than that, the unconscious, emaciated form on the bed tugged at her soul. She didn’t know why; he should be no more to her than any other patient.
    In fact, if MacLean lived, she would still be bound to him, and if he died while in her care, she would be free. Yet something about this man tugged at her senses. Even unconscious, he exuded an aura of strength, of power, of irresistible allure. So she would do anything—beg, fight, even appease the doctor—for a chance to drag MacLean back to life. Nothing else was acceptable.
    So although conciliation stuck in her throat, Enid offered an olive branch. “You did an excellent job with the leg, Dr. Bridges.” Amazing though it seemed, he had. “A difficult break. Congratulations.”
    A profound silence settled on the room, and she glanced up from her ministrations.
    “An Arab physician set the bone,” Mr. Throckmorton said.
    Dr. Bridges whirled to face Mr. Throckmorton. “He’s going to die anyway! What difference does it make?”
    Mr. Throckmorton’s expression stilled. His eyes grew so cold that the temperature in the room dropped perceptibly. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been treating my friend inattentively because you believe he can’t be saved?”
    Dr. Bridges wasn’t an intuitive man, for he dared to answer, “I’ve done what I can for him, but I’ve never seen such dreadful wounds. Of course he’s doomed.”
    Mr. Throckmorton snapped his fingers, then moved to stand beside Enid.
    Taking the protesting doctor by the arm, Mr. Kinman hustled him down the stairs.
    “I requested the best,” Mr. Throckmorton said, chill fury in his tone. “And that’s what I got?”
    The anxiety that clutched at Enid’s throat relaxed, and in a careful, nonjudgmental tone, she said, “Dr. Gerritson, the man who trained me, used to say trouble comes when the physicians believe in their own infallibility.”
    “Your Dr. Gerritson sounds like an intelligent man. How did you come to train with him?”
    “After MacLean abandoned me, I had to pay off hisdebts. So I assisted the village doctor with all manner of injuries and illnesses. I didn’t faint at the sight of blood—I’d seen too much at the orphanage to get queasy about anything. After I helped him set the hostler’s collarbone, he offered me a place working with him. His wife said he was too old to work so hard. She was right. He died three years later, and here I am.”
    Mr. Throckmorton watched in silence as she bathed MacLean’s wounds. “Will you be able to save MacLean?”
    “I don’t know.” MacLean was so ill. “I don’t even know if I can keep him alive through the night. But I will try.”
    He didn’t reproach her. Instead he asked, “What can I do to assist?”
    If only all men were so astute! “I need an attendant, a sturdy woman of good size and sense who’ll help me move him, give him water and feed him should he come to consciousness.”
    “I’ll send Mrs. Brown to you. She’s our nursemaid, and a more sensible woman I’ve never met.”
    “I hate to deprive your children of their nursemaid.”
    “My daughter and my niece, and I assure you, my fiancée will be thrilled to have the children to herself.” Mr. Throckmorton’s smile twisted up on one side and down on the other, and he looked like a man who didn’t know whether he was delighted or deprived. “My fiancée was formerly their governess, you see.”
    Enid didn’t see, but she didn’t care, either. As long as Mr. Throckmorton filled her needs, he and his betrothed could do and be whatever they wished. “If Mrs. Brown is the best to be had, I’ll take her and gladly. I want maids