Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, Awed, Old Soul in Wonderland, nadiaabigailv, Pink Dynamite, caroltrivilini and Guests! Getting reviews is probably as exciting for me as it seems to be for readers to get a chapter update. :)
Opening her eyes, her breath hitched. Brigands knelt over the man on the floor and then looked at her. Tears rolled from his eyes.
"Is it her?" The man's voice had a harsh hoarseness to it.
Brigands held out a hand to her.
She stepped closer, never more frightened. This moment would bring Heaven or Hell. The man's face came into view. One eye swelled almost shut and the soot and beard and cuts distorted his features. But those blue eyes. A sob escaped as her hands flew to her mouth. Brigands caught her as her legs collapsed.
The man reached across his body and held out his left hand. "Tanya." His face crumpled.
Her hand shook hard. She touched his fingers. Then his arm. Then his face. It wasn't a dream. Oh god, it was him. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs from the depths of her heart and she leaned down, wrapping hers arms around his neck.
He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Don't cry."
"They...they s,said...you...were dead," she sobbed.
"They have to...think I'm dead," he rasped and held her.
Joy and relief hit with such force that the fear still lingered of this being a dream. Of waking up and realizing he was still dead.
"My lady." Brigands set a hand on her back. "He needs tending. His arm is broken and burned."
Sitting back, she wiped her eyes with her skirts. His right arm near her sat at an odd angle and part of the shirt had burned to his forearm. "You need to see the surgeon."
"No surgeon. No one can...know I'm here." He drew in a shallow breath and closed his eyes like he hurt.
"He's right," Brigand's said. "The burn will give him away. We must tend to him, and you must still be in mourning."
"Let's get him cleaned up and in bed." While Brigands fetched water and rags, she unbuttoned his shirt. "Where does it hurt?"
"I think my ribs are broken," he said breathlessly. "My back hurts terribly like it's burned."
"What happened? Brigands, I need scissors to cut off his clothes." She unbuttoned his pants.
"Don't," he whimpered. "My hip."
She pulled her hands away and took the rag from Brigands. "What happened to you?" Dear god, tears threatened seeing him in so much pain.
"The hall floor...collapsed into...the study," he breathed and held his side.
"It fell on you?" She started with cleaning his face as Brigands cut off the singed clothes.
"No." He winced when she wiped near his temple.
"Dear Jesus," Brigand's whispered and made the sign of the cross.
Falling through the floor of a burning building...he shouldn't be alive. Keep calm. He needed medical care, not tears. Her spine stiffened and skin thickened. "Brigands, get Grandfather to set his arm. And bring chloroform - we can't risk anyone hearing and he can't have laudanum." She wiped clean his neck and shoulders as Brigands hurried out.
"I just...wanted to get to...you." He gasped and closed his eyes as he seemed to battle a wave of pain. "I don't care what...he has to do..." His chest gave a single heave and then he grabbed her hand and held tight as he both panted and tried not to breathe.
"What hurts most?" She held his hand tight.
"Ribs," he whispered. "Promise..." His brow furrowed with his eyes still closed and he puffed tiny, rapid breaths, bringing to mind a helpless injured animal.
Tears fell. "What will help until he comes?" This horrible helplessness while he suffered created a restless, climb-the-walls feeling. This must be what it felt like to go insane. She gave soft strokes to his chest in hope of it easing the pain or his distress.
"Promise don't...go 'til...I'm out."
"I'll be right here the whole time, love."
Grandfather burst in wearing his nightclothes and stopped in his tracks. "By the Spirits, it is true." Brigands followed and pushed him inside and locked the door.
"He has burns. His arm and perhaps ribs or back are broken. I haven't gotten any farther. His hip hurts too much to move him." The distress grew hearing all of his injuries listed. He shouldn't be alive. He might be paralyzed from how she and Brigands had jostled his back, but what mattered was he was alive.
Grandfather knelt with a medical bag and looked at Mark's arm without touching it. "I'm going to give you just enough chloroform to set your arm and check you for other injuries." He doused a rag and held it over Mark's mouth.
Mark's hand still gripped tight and his brow remained furrowed as he panted. She looked at Grandfather in confusion.
"Mark, you need to draw deeper breaths."
He did, followed by a soft cry of pain. His grip loosened slightly.
"One more, honey." She stroked his hand as the tears finally came.
A cry melted into a sigh and then he went limp.
Grandfather shoved the rag at Brigands. "Get it out of this tiny room or we'll all be unconscious. Tanya, find something to splint his arm. If there's a way to get a rag soaked with sea water, the salt will help to bring down the swelling of his arm."
She nibbled her lip. "The crate! If we break off slats, we can use them as a splint. The sea sprayed at the back of the ship - we'll get water there." She grabbed Brigands' proffered hand. "We'll be right back."
The stress must've given Brigands strength - he ripped three slats right off a crate and then handed her a slat. "Tie a rag onto this." She did and he took it and held it out over the railing where the waves sprayed. "Let's go."
She hurried back to the room with the slats. Brigands closed the door and untied the rag.
Grandfather had Mark's arm set and had already started cutting Mark's shirt from the burn across the side of his forearm.
"Did you wash?" She lowered her bulk beside him.
"With what water? Fresh water is rationed so we don't run out - it'll take three or four weeks to reach America."
Setting her hand over his to stop him, she met his eyes. "Then we take sea water and boil it if we must. He didn't make it this far to die from infection."
While the men left to figure out a way to gather water and have the kitchen boil it without asking questions, she rolled Mark just enough to look at his back and braced for a terrible burn. A long sliver of wood had driven into his ribs from the side and bulged under the skin down to his hip near his spine. It entered in his back two fingers in width and gradually tapered to one finger. Only by an act of God had he not been impaled to death. How he had ever made it out of the house and to the boat by himself was a a miracle.
Dear god, there was no good way to remove it. An incision the length of a forearm would surely get infected, but any slivers left embedded that deep in the skin would fester. The door opened and she looked at Grandfather.
He carried a pan of steaming water and slowly knelt, his eyes wide in horror. Brigands knelt in slow motion too.
"What do we do?" Fear gripped, cold and hard as her hands shook. "He'll get infection."
Grandfather released a shakey breath. "We remove it. At the first sign of infection, we make an incision to see if it's matter left in causing it."
A tear fell and she nodded, swallowing hard and drawing a deep breath. It had to work. There was no other option on a boat in the middle of the ocean with limited means.
She held him on his side and looked away as Brigands and Grandfather pulled the wood from his back while the chloroform still had effect. The scraping vibrations could be felt through Mark's body.
"This must be why it hurt him to breathe - it's pressing against his ribs." Sweat glistened on Grandfather's brow in his effort to remove the wood in the exact manner it had entered. Mark gave a drugged groan. "Hold on. You won't want this done when you're fully awake."
The thought of Mark feeling it scraping and the pain it must be causing made the room dip. The metallic hint of fresh blood singed her nostrils. The rocking from the sea only helped her stomach roll.
"Suck it up," Grandfather snapped. "He can't move much yet, but he's conscious and needs you. The pain is dulled, but it still hurts. Hold him still and let him know you're here."
Forcing down the bile, she stroked Mark's shoulder and gently adjusted how she held his broken arm alongside his body for support until Grandfather could splint it. The bones of his arm grated. Oh dear god. Another drunk groan of pain. "I'm here, Mark." The words came out weak.
"My lady," Brigands said in that gentle voice of his. "Look at me."
She did and blinked when spots blanketed him for a second.
He held her eyes. "Don't think of what is happening to his body. He's weary and frightened and needs your comfort. He will endure what we need to do to heal him if he has you to see him through it. He needs you to be strong."
Mark needed her. He needed her to be his rock. The dizziness and nausea eased a degree. She looked down and although his face couldn't move yet to portray his pain, weak moans broke the silence and tears leaked out from behind his closed eyes. Ever so careful to not move his arm, she laid down on the floor and faced him. Unable to be tight against him because of her belly, she cupped his stubbly jaw in her hands and stroked with her thumbs. "I'm right here. There's a long piece of wood in your back that they're getting out so you can breathe better. I'm staying right here with you."
The soft moans stopped and the tears slowed. His body began to tremble from pain as the drug wore off. His breath morphed to pants of agony again.
"We're getting you fixed up as fast as we can." She brushed a kiss over his lips.
"A man doesn't always weep from pain to his body, my lady."
She glanced up at Brigands and then looked at Mark's face, his brow able to slightly furrow in pain now. Her face crumpled. He'd been weeping because he'd thought her gone. Taking his good arm, she cradled his hand to her chest and stroked his cheek with her other hand. "I won't leave you. They almost have it out, honey."
The moment Grandfather pulled the bloody barb out, Mark drew a deep breath like he could breathe again. His hand tightened in hers and his face contorted in pain.
"There we are," Grandfather said. "We'll clean this up but leave it open to let out the ill humors. Brigands, see to this while I stabilize his arm?"
"Yes, sir." Brigands traded spots with Grandfather. "You hold your lady tight, my lord. She got quite white there for a moment but refused to leave you."
Mark's eyes cracked open but closed again as he hissed in a breath and jerked away from where Brigands cleaned the wound.
"You're doing so good, my Mark." She blinked the tears to clear her vision.
"We need to get a bandage on. I'll pass it to Tanya to reach under you since her hands are smaller and won't make you move as much," Grandfather told him.
"Here." She sat up and tore strips off her petticoat. "You need to save the clean bandages for directly on the wounds. My petticoat is just washed."
Once she cleaned his back and chest and the bandage was on, Grandfather checked the rest of his backside for injuries before rolling him onto his back again. Poor Mark's chest heaved and his brow grew damp again as Grandfather unwrapped the saltwater rag from his arm. "Tanya, wave this around to cool it. A chilled rag will give him some measure of relief."
She sat beside Mark again and waved the rag as Grandfather leaned down to look at the shirt that had burned to Mark's arm. Then she handed Brigands the rag and leaned down to Mark's ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about it that you're not clothed. I'll finish washing you and - "
"I don't care," he panted and grabbed her hand as Grandfather began to peel away the shirt burned to his arm. "Carbolic acid," Mark panted.
Her eyes widened in horror. "What?! Your books said that can cause fits and colic and - "
Grandfather set a hand on her back. "That's the method of treating burns of this degree to keep infection from setting in. It is mixed with oil and - "
"No!" She set a protective hand on Mark and glared at Grandfather. "The risk of poisoning is too great."
"Then what do you propose, Tanya?"
"Debried like what the surgeon did with the spider bite. And you said once that you have aloe, Grandfather. We pack the burns with herbs that you would use."
Grandfather looked at Mark, who nodded his consent. He applied a dressing directly onto the burn and wrapped it. Then he applied the splint. "We'll see by morning how much it debrieds."
It would mean Mark having pain for several days to come each time the dressing would be removed and hopefully peel off more dead flesh. She touched his cheek. "If you disagree, you don't have to do it this way." He gave a single nod, so she took the rag and finished cleaning Mark. A gash at his temple and a few cuts on his body and a swollen knee were the last of his external injuries.
Grandfather and Brigands helped him up slowly to get in bed. Poor Mark's nostrils flared as he breathed through the pain. Once settled, Grandfather palpated Mark's hip that he favored and she covered Mark with the sheet for modesty. "You aren't leaving bed for a few days - you may have a pelvis fracture. The best place for you is a hospital. The boat may be able to dock in Spain."
"No," Mark rasped. "We get to America so..." he grimaced through another wave of pain, "Tanya doesn't birth at sea. Once...she births, she's not traveling...until the bleeding stops."
She sank onto the side of the bed. "Mark, if you need to be in the hospital - "
"No." He slipped his good hand into hers. "There's nothing they'd do...that can't be done here."
"You at least need the infirmary on the ship! Your voice is raspy from the fire, you have burns and broken bones and - "
He closed his eyes and seemed to clench his teeth against another bought of pain. "I didn't...goddamn climb out of a fire," he gasped through his teeth, "to spend weeks...in a hospital." Then he tried to shift but ended up groaning in agony.
"Grandfather, go get the surgeon. We'll tell him that he's just another passenger - "
His hand tugged hers and she looked down at Mark.
Pain creased the corners of his eyes. "We have one chance...for them to believe I'm dead. D..." His hand clutched hers as he closed his eyes and paused for a moment. The agony seemed to pass and his grip relaxed. "Don't risk it. I'll be alright if...you stay."
When she looked at Grandfather, he nodded. "We will give him a couple days. If he doesn't improve, then we'll see. He was injured a day ago and couldn't have had an easy time getting to the boat. He's exhausted. Give him some good rest." He looked at Brigands, who nodded in agreement. "Rest with your husband. You're between our two cabins, so yell if you need help." Then he turned to Mark with a cup of powders mixed in water. "Drink so you can rest."
"I don't need...sleeping powders." He tensed from pain again.
"You will not be able to rest without them." She slipped a hand behind his head and set the glass to his lips. He thankfully drank without protest.
They both left and she got up and locked the door. Then she turned with her hands on the small of her back and surveyed Mark in the lantern light. His chest rose and fell a bit too fast and pain offered a perpetual squint, but he seemed to at least tolerate his discomfort right now.
"You look beautiful," he said breathlessly.
Her eyebrows rose and a slight smile tugged. "I see the powders are having effect. Are you trying to woo me in your sorry state, husband?"
"It's been four weeks...without you," he gasped and pressed his lips together as he held his breath for a moment. Then his chest fell with the release of his breath when the agony seemed to pass again.
"No, it just goes to show how much pain is affecting your judgment." She walked over to the bed. It was either climb over, scoot him or squeeze in the tiny walkway between the wall and small bed.
"Won't get in bed with a man...who isn't your husband?" His eyes lost some of their focus from the drug already.
Pursing her lips, she tilted her head. "We aren't legally wed anymore, are we? How very scandalous of us." She shrugged. "When you are better, I shall ask how you intend to rectify that. But no, I was debating how to get in bed without leaving you in tears."
"Promise to kiss me...and I'll bear it."
So she saddled along the side wall as best the babe allowed, climbed on the bed and slowly scooted back toward the headboard. The poor man panted with his eyes squeezed shut, the jiggling hurting him. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't be in the same bed - "
"Stay," he breathed before she could finish.
Pressing back to the edge of the bed, she gave him the hand's worth of extra space.
His head turned to her, and sadness filled his eyes.
A slight smile tugged. "I don't want to hurt you. If you want me closer, just say." She slid closer and rested her head on his shoulder when he spread out his arm. But her belly on his side would hurt him, so she laid crooked.
Fingers on her back pried her closer. "More." When he kept prodding until the only choice remained to rest her belly on his side, he grunted in discomfort but didn't let go until she settled close. A second later, a soft sigh of contentment released from him and he rested with his eyes closed. Quite a bit of the pain lifted from his face.
She rested a hand on his chest and frowned at his breaths not coming clear and crisp under her ear like usual. "Your chest has an almost whistle sound. Can you breathe alright?" The need to sit up and check him tugged, but it would cause the poor man so much pain to be jostled.
A soft grunt. "It's the smoke."
"Will it cause pneumonia?" Worry gnawed. He looked so weak and ill, and the medical care would only be as good as the surgeon should Mark not be in a condition to advise what to do.
"Not if you let...me sleep."
But worry wouldn't let sleep come. Pressing up on her hand so as to disturb him as little as possible, she leaned across and listened to the other side of his chest.
"What are...you doing?" He didn't sound pleased, like he wanted to sleep.
"Shh!" There. A slight crackle whenever he drew in a breath. Using her arms, she slid up to a sit at the headboard to avoid jiggling his pelvis. "You're not breathless just from pain but because you can't breathe. There's a wetness in your lungs. Sit up and cough."
"Tanya," he begged, the dark circles under his eyes revealing his exhaustion. His eyes drooped from the sedative too.
She met his gaze and cupped his cheek. "I learned today what it felt like to..." blinking back the tears, she swallowed hard when a limp swelled in her throat, "to be your widow. I don't care how much you'll hate me these next weeks, but if you need to cough, I will nag all night until you cough. If you need bedrest, I'll tie you down to keep you in bed. If you need to go to a hospital, you can rip my head off as much as you please but I'll take you to a hospital. I'm not losing you again." A tear splashed onto his shoulder.
He looked at her for a long moment. There'd be nothing she could do if he refused to move. "Put a pillow...behind me at the...headboard." When she did, he used his good arm and pushed himself back to a gentle incline. Tears welled in his eyes from pain, but he didn't object. He used his broken arm to reach for the rag on the nightstand. A grimace of pain made her clench her teeth for him. He held the rag to his mouth and gave a cough. Terrible, wet coughs took over and wracked his poor body.
She set a hand on his chest in hopes that the vibrations wouldn't rattle his chest so. Her heart stopped when he turned the rag - the coughs brought up a bit of black and gray matter. "Mark?"
His chest heaved in an attempt to catch his breath as the violent fit faded. "Smoke."
"It's not old blood?"
He shook his head.
The man slept soundly the rest of the night. Fear of losing him still held strong. So she kept watch while he slept - afraid that at one moment his chest would stop rising and falling during the night.
Brigands came in the next morning. She stood up from the edge of the bed and held her throbbing back. "He's been sound asleep all night," she whispered.
He frowned. "And you haven't slept at all, have you?"
She shook her head and her face crumpled. "His chest had smoke and fluid in it last night, but he seems to have coughed most of it out."
"Oh, my lady, no more tears." He pulled her close when the tears came. "He's here and young and strong. We'll get him better. Then you'll be wishing for the days when he wasn't barking at us all."
That won a watery laugh, and she took his offered handkerchief. "What if he wasn't supposed to cheat Death? What if - "
"'What ifs' will drive you to insanity. None of us know what time is left for us. We just must remember to cherish it. Fear has a way of making us forget - don't forget that love can be as powerful of a medicine as anything your Grandfather or the master can do with their bottles and bandages. Come. Go sleep in my cabin. I'll sit watch with him."
She took his hand at the door. "I shouldn't speak so, but...I do not know if Grandfather is a skilled medicine man. I am going to be a terrible granddaughter and ask that you..." She bit her lip and hesitated.
"Ask that I stay with His Lordship if you cannot," he offered in a gentle tone.
She nodded. "I trust that if Mark isn't conscious and I'm not here that you will see he has proper care. I am not familiar with Grandfather's work. Based on conversation, Mark was impressed, but..."
He gave a single nod. "I will make sure he's still alive when you wake up."
"And don't tell - "
"I wouldn't dream of telling your grandfather, my lady. Go rest. The master will have my head if you wear yourself out."
"Thank you."
He escorted her to the room next door and knocked. When his wife opened the door, he said, "I told her to sleep here, and I'll watch him for a bit."
Teresa beamed and held out her hands. "Come, come. You look exhausted, dear."
She let the woman lead her to the bed and help her off with her shoes. "I know I'm imposing terribly - "
"Nonsense. You had a terrible day and a hard night." The woman tucked her in and said something, but her eyes already drifted shut.
She startled awake to an empty cabin room. A sickening feeling took hold that Mark coming back had been a dream. Not even grabbing her shawl and shoes, she held her belly through the nightgown and shot out of the cabin and into hers next door.
Teresa sat in a chair beside the bed and Brigands froze mid-reach to hand Mark a glass of water. Mark reclined in bed, with his broken arm propped on a pillow along his side. All eyes stared at her.
A huge sigh of relief and then a flush of embarrassment crept up. She must look a fright. Reaching up, she touched the long braid that had at some point become a big tangled mess. Curling her bare toes on the wood floor, she let go of her belly and closed the door. "Um, I thought maybe last night was a dream."
Brigands gave Mark the glass and smiled. "We've kept him in one piece, for the most part, my lady." Teresa stood with a grin of her own while Mark took a drink and handed the glass back to Brigands with a nod of thanks.
"It seems my wife has a way of making 'slug-a-bed' an endearing thing." Mark cracked a smile.
Her jaw dropped in surprise and she beamed. "You can breathe better and your voice doesn't sound as hoarse." She patted over and sat at the foot of the bed. "You look a thousand times better."
"Your grandfather realized he had a partially dislocated hip, not a fractured pelvis," Brigands added. "The master has been looking much better since it was fixed."
"Brigands insisted on staying for the torture. He informed me that he preferred to face my wrath rather than yours." She must've given Mark a puzzled look because he explained, "Apparently you ordering him to stay overrules me ordering him to leave." A slight twinkle glinted in his eye, as if he found it amusing.
Instead of blushing as he probably wished, she raised her chin - and pretended her cheeks didn't burn. "I can wear the pants just as well as you."
"Yes, you can, my dear." Then he turned his smile onto Brigands and said something.
Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. He'd a time or two called her 'sweetheart' during intimate conversation, but he'd never used 'my dear' or any term of endearment casually in public conversation. She blinked in surprise when Brigands and his wife slipped out the door.
"Did you get some sleep?" Those blue eyes had far too much intensity now that they weren't clouded with pain. His messy hair gave him a devil-may-care aura, and the beard made him look rugged and burly, particularly without a shirt on. His voice had a slight husky, rough quality yet from the fire. "Tanya?"
"Hm?" He was so unbelievably gorgeous, despite the broken arm and cuts and bruises. And he was all hers to have and to hold forever.
"Did you sleep well?" A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Oh dear heaven, she was gawking! Dropping her eyes, she swallowed down the flutters and nodded, suddenly feeling so shy.
"Now that I'm not ready to scream in pain, I expect a proper greeting from my wife, being back from the dead."
Pushing herself up, she locked the door and closed the shade to the window. Sunlight filtered through the shade, casting everything in a soft yellow glow. She padded over to him and stood beside the bed for a moment.
He held out his good arm.
It wasn't proper, but a kiss and hug just wouldn't do for the love and joy that overflowed for having him back again. For having a chance at happiness. For having the man who held her heart to live out each day with for forever. She peeled off her nightgown and tossed it to the foot of the bed.
He grinned and took her hand to help her on the bed. "Ah, Tanya, I love your spirit."
Slipping under the covers, she draped herself over him as best as possible with the babe in the way and propped up on her elbow. She stroked his whiskers and smiled. "That isn't all you love about me."
"Isn't it?" His smile grew. "Are you telling me that I must tell you that I love you?"
"I certainly recall it being said a time or two in the past month." A soft giggle came out, the happiness so profound that a body should burst from having this much of it. "I think I like your beard. But I shall not let you kiss me until you tell me that you love me."
His smile faded as he held her eyes in all seriousness. "I love you enough to have walked through fire to fake my death so I could come with you. I love you enough that I chose you over terrible pain last night just to be near you - "
She set a finger to his lips. "I've never asked you to prove that you love me or how much. I just ask that you tell me that you love me."
"I love you." He cupped her cheek and pulled her down for a kiss. "I love you." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you." A kiss to her brow. "I love you." Another kiss on her lips that deepened into sending her heart racing across the sea with his.
