Daring Romance

Chapter 16

"I don't think you understand the severity of his condition," Ravenel said as he led the way to the double library. "He's hanging by a thread."

"I understand his condition quite well," Garrett said, proceeding along the hallway with heel-digging strides. "Any perforating wound of the chest is life-threatening. Furthermore, the Thames is contaminated with bacteria, nitrates, and poisonous chemicals. One can hardly do enough to disinfect him."

"But you think there's a chance of saving him?" he asked skeptically.

"I will save him." Garrett gave an impatient shake of her head as she heard the quaver in her voice.

They entered the library, two spacious joined rooms lined with acres of mahogany bookshelves. The interior was arranged with a few pieces of stately, heavy furniture, including a massive table running along the center and a long, low settee. An expanse of sodden Persian carpeting was heaped with toweling and cans of water. A foul scent competed with the acrid freshness of carbolic soap, commonly used for horses and difficult household cleaning.

The small, slim form of Kathleen, Lady Trenear, and the far more substantial one of her husband, Devon, were bent over a still form laid out on the settee.

Garrett's heartbeat was so rough that the lights in the room seemed to pulse in front of her eyes. "Good evening," she said, trying to sound composed, without success.

Both of them turned toward her.

Kathleen, a red-haired woman with delicate, almost feline beauty, regarded her with concern. "Dr. Gibson," she murmured.

"Countess," she said distractedly, and gave a cursory nod to the tall, dark-haired earl. "Lord Trenear." Her gaze went to Ethan.

If not for the continuous trembling that shook Ethan's long frame, she would have assumed he was already dead. His complexion was waxen, his lips blue-tinged, his eyes closed and sunken. They had covered his body with a quilt but had left his shoulders and one arm bare. His hand lay palm upward with the fingers slightly curled, the nails lavender-gray.

Setting down her doctor's bag, Garrett knelt on a folded towel beside the settee and reached for his wrist to check his pulse. It was nearly too weak to detect. His veins were colorless and flattened. Oh God. He'd lost too much blood. Anything she did was going to kill him.

Ethan jerked a little at her touch. The thick lashes lifted to reveal a flash of unearthly blue. His disoriented gaze settled on her, focusing with effort. A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "Garrett. My time's . . . run short."

"Nonsense," she said firmly. "I'll have you back to rights quite soon."

She began to pull back the quilt, but his big, cold hand slid over hers, stopping her. "I'm dying, love," she heard him whisper.

The words shook Garrett by the spine, as nothing ever had before. She was distantly amazed that she could manage a coherent reply. "I'll thank you to leave the diagnosing to me."

His fingers wrapped around hers. The feel of them was unfamiliar, devoid of their natural heat and strength. "Garrett . . ."

She used her free hand to ease the quilt down until the bullet wound was visible. It was a surprisingly neat, small circle. Given the elasticity of skin, the bullet was undoubtedly larger than the hole's diameter.

Ethan's gaze fixed on hers as he spoke with effort. "The first moment I saw you, I knew you were my share of the world. I've always loved you. If I could choose my fate, I'd never be parted from you. Acushla . . . pulse of my heart, breath of my soul . . . there's nothing on this earth more fair and fine than you. Your shadow on the ground is sunlight to me."