SOFIA PACED BACK AND forth while the surgeon worked on Ash. Hunter had tried to get her to leave, but she’d thrown such a fit that he’d let her stay. It helped that she was the one who had been keeping Ash’s lifeblood from leaving his body.
When the doctor said to remove her hand from his wound, she’d been so terrified he would die that it had taken Hunter physically removing her from the bedside in order for her to back away from Ash — from the love of her life.
Who was currently dying before her very eyes.
“I am doing what I can,” the doctor said with a heavy voice. “The bullet grazed his neck. Nothing was punctured, though the gunshot wound to his back…” His words died off as he continued to work on Ash.
The man she loved was motionless.
He’d awoken once — screaming. Hunter had knocked him out in order to gain enough time to produce some laudanum.
“Is it deep?” Hunter tugged at his jacket and paced the room. “Will he be… paralyzed?”
Sofia’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t thought about what it would mean — saving him. Would he ever forgive her if he was paralyzed because she’d chosen not to let him bleed all over the floor? Knees suddenly weak, she went over to the chair and sat. She hung her head in her hands.
Her bloodstained hands.
“It isn’t the new bullet wound I’m concerned about,” the surgeon said quietly. “It was a clean shot through the muscle. I’ve removed it. As long as there is no infection, we shall be just fine. My concern is the bruising across his chest near his heart. How long has he been this way?”
Hunter’s eyes flickered to Sofia. “Perhaps it is best spoken of in private.”
“No.” Sofia stood. “He is my fiancé, is he not?”
Hunter ground his teeth together and faced the doctor. “It is an old wound, one that has never quite healed correctly. His other two doctors have given him… months to live.”
Sofia gasped.
Hunter didn’t turn but simply said, “It was for the best he not tell you, Sofia.”
“For the best?” she repeated in a weak voice. “That I not treasure every moment we had together? That I not memorize every kiss, every touch?
The surgeon coughed.
Hunter paled. “He asked it of me, and after…” He licked his lips and looked down. “…it was the least I could do.”
With a glare, she pushed past Hunter and addressed the doctor. “Are you able to fix it?”
“I do not know what it… is.” The surgeon sighed heavily. “There seems to be an infection. It is dangerously close. If I had his permission to operated, maybe, but—”
“I give it,” Hunter said softly. “Whatever you need to do, do it. I imagine the infection will kill him if you do nothing.”
The surgeon’s silence was answer enough.
“Well?” Sofia crossed her arms.
“Right.” The surgeon was elderly, his glasses crooked on his face. Sweat poured from his temples as he leaned over Ash’s body and poured whiskey across his chest. “My lady, this is not the place for you to—”
“I’m staying.” Sofia clenched her jaw. “Remove me from this room, and you will need help removing that blade from your heart.”
The surgeon sputtered.
“Russian,” Hunter said as if that explained everything.
It must have, considering the doctor simply nodded and continued to slice open the skin in the middle of Hunter’s chest.
Ash let out a moan.
Sofia reached for his lifeless hand and gripped it.
He appeared so calm, despite the jumbled groans coming from his mouth. His face was passive. She could study him in earnest. He was a beautiful man from his full lips to his strong jaw, and those eyes — they were deadly when they gazed upon her. She’d do anything, say anything to make him stay.
“Ash… please be strong,” Sofia whispered in his ear as she pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Please, for us, be strong.”
Minutes later, the surgeon let out a whistle.
Sofia was afraid to ask if it was one of hopelessness or shock.
“I think…” The surgeon reached for a pair of forceps and leaned over Ash’s body, his face nearly touching Ash’s skin. “…I think— Ah… yes. That’s it.”
Sofia released Ash’s hand and walked over to the doctor.
He pulled something metallic from where he’d cut, and then the forceps caught a piece of something long, and he tugged.
Sofia almost lost her countenance, as he kept tugging and finally freed the piece of material from Ash, dropping it onto the bedside. The smell was horrendous, as if he had just pulled out a dead animal and cooked it over a fire.
Sofia covered her mouth while Hunter stared dumbstruck. “Is that a piece of cloth?”
The surgeon cursed under his breath. “Some doctors never learn. Tell me, did your brother often travel to small villages for work? Other countries?”
Hunter nodded.
“It seems a very young doctor made a very deadly mistake. He left behind what was supposed to be used to keep your brother from bleeding. Not only did he miss part of the bullet lodged in his skin, but sewed him up with the cloth inside. I’ve seen this practice only when there is fear of the patient bleeding out, but it has since been abolished because of infection. If a doctor uses this procedure, they are to remove the cloth within twenty-four hours, never leave it behind to rot.”
“So he’ll live?” Hunter asked the question on the tip of Sofia’s tongue.
“If he dies…” The surgeon needled some thread. “…it will not be because of what happened this evening. However, the infection is still in his body. He will need to fight it, and he will need much rest. There has been a lot of blood loss.”
“What else can we do?” Sofia blurted. “Are there any special herbs? Anything?”
The doctor tilted his head. “My dear, he simply needs something to fight for, something to make him strong.”
Sofia’s shoulders slumped.
“He means you.” Hunter’s voice was encouraging. “He has you, what more could he need?”
Sofia wasn’t convinced. “He was ready to leave me before.”
“He was ready to leave you because he loved you,” Hunter said plainly. “Because he couldn’t imagine a life where you would be forced to wed a man who was about to die, where you would be forced to wed a man you might believe to still be in love with someone who was no longer living.”