Court of Flowers (Sutherland Book 1)

XXXIX | St. Vincent

"I cannot find the source of the bleeding," Dr. Pemberton informed them, brows furrowed.

"What do you mean you cannot find the source of the bleeding?" West demanded, scowling at the old doctor.

"Call for Dr. Kemper," Gabrielle said from where she was bound.

Rider turned to her and said, "You were not told to speak, woman."

West could feel everyone's eyes on him as he held Sasha's hand. The doctor focused on his work, bent over Sasha's midriff. He shook his head.

"What is it?" West demanded.

"I am quite certain no organ has been damaged. The bleeding is controlled, but—"

"She is still bleeding."

The doctor nodded.

"Who do you think sees over the king's health? Dr. Kemper is the best in the entire kingdom," Gabrielle insisted, her voice shaking. "She can be here fast if you call her now."

Rider narrowed his eyes. "I said, woman, that your—"

"Go to Sasha's villa and inform her maid to go to Belcourt and call for this doctor. Then go and get St. Vincent here now," West ordered to Darren who immediately ran out of the room.

Rider whirled away from Gabrielle to gawk at West in disbelief. "You cannot be utterly serious, West. St. Vincent?"

West turned to his friend. "We need all the best we can get."

Rider scoffed, looking around in disbelief. "A woman doctor and a bloody drunk. Perfect!"

"Get her out of here," West ordered, motioning his head at Gabrielle. "And that bloody bastard, too," he added, nodding at the unconscious Willoghby whose shoulder was covered in a bandage, courtesy of Tanner.

Rider and the two other men dragged Gabrielle and Willoghby out of the room with Gabrielle giving West a scornful look before she disappeared.

Tanner seemed restless as he paced about, hands on his hips. "I will get St. Vincent myself. I find the need to drag someone," he said, leaving West with Sasha and Dr. Pemberton.

"Sasha," West softly called, giving her hand a shake. She remained motionless. He turned to Pemberton. "You are saying that after the hundreds of duel wounds and other injuries you had to attend to, you cannot help with this one?"

The doctor started to tie a bandage around Sasha's wound, pulling it tight. He checked her pulse and murmured something under his breath.

"I demand to hear every bloody word you murmur, Pemberton."

The old man's wrinkled eyes slanted toward him. "Her pulse is weak."

West's hand tightened around Sasha. He had left her bleeding against the wall earlier. He could have saved a lot of time if he just went straight to her.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" he asked.

The doctor finished his task and slowly stood. He dragged a chair to Sasha's bedside and sat down. "We wait."

"You cannot be bloody serious."

The old man looked at him. "West, my boy, you know very well that it is the best I can do. Now, we wait and pray that St. Vincent will be less foxed than he normally is and that this doctor from Belcourt is better than me."

"There is no one better than you—"

"There is."

The finality in the doctor's words stopped West cold.