“You’ve been shot before?” Regina turned a shade paler.
“Twice,” Daffin replied.
“What’s that?” Nicole asked from her perch on the other side of him.
“Daffin says this is thethirdtime he’s been shot at,” Regina replied.
Nicole nodded. “In his line of work, it comes with the territory.”
“No. No.” Daffin shook his head. “This is the third time I’ve beenhit.I’ve been shotatmore times than I care to count.”
Regina didn’t say a word. She continued to press her scarf to the wound as the coach pulled to a stop in front of Mark’s house.
“Don’t leave this coach until I’m certain the street is clear,” Daffin warned, wincing as he reached for the door handle.
“Mr. Hedley, please scan the road for shooters before we take Mr. Oakleaf into the house. It’s no worry. He’s only been shot. Take your time,” Regina said, irony dripping from her voice.
“The point is I don’t want you to be shot, either,” Daffin said, shaking his head.
Moments later, both the coachman and the footman indicated the street appeared to be empty. Regina and Nicole escorted Daffin into the foyer like mother ducks keeping an eye on their egg. The ladies insisted he go into the first drawing room and lie on the settee while Nicole ordered Louise, the housemaid, to prepare hot, soapy water and bring clean rags to treat the wound. Apparently, the ladies were intent upon setting up a makeshift hospital in the salon.
When Louise returned, Regina took the basin of soapy water and rags and dismissed her. The maid left with a sour look on her face.
“Why’s she so unhappy?” Nicole asked.
Regina set the basin on the table in front of the settee and began wringing out the clean rags. She lifted one shoulder, a sly smile on her face. “My guess… she wanted to see Daffin with his shirt off.”
Despite the pain in his arm, Daffin couldn’t help his snort. “Doubtful.”
“Mark my words. We’ll find her peeking in the keyhole if we bother to check,” Regina replied.
Nicole immediately put her hand to her forehead. “Oh, dear. I find the scent of blood makes me queasy in my condition. Regina, there’s no help for it. You’re going to have to treat the wound.”
Daffin met Regina’s gaze. She visibly swallowed.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“No you’re not. You’ve been shot, and I’m shaking,” Nicole insisted weakly.
Daffin’s nostrils flared. “I’m only angry the scoundrel got away.”
“Nevertheless,” Nicole continued, “I refuse to allow you to stay in my home with an untreated pistol wound you incurred on our behalf. Regina will treat it. Carry on.” With that, Nicole hurried from the room.
Daffin’s gaze met Regina’s over the steam rising from the water basin.
“Do you mind?” she asked quietly, gesturing to his shoulder.
“Please.” He watched her move closer. Her lips were parted and as she bent over him, her chest rose and fell. Sweatbeaded between her breasts. He knew he shouldn’t be looking there but couldn’t help himself. He swallowed, hard.
Louise had also brought a set of shears and Daffin pushed himself away from the back of the settee to allow Regina to cut his shirt from his wounded shoulder. He winced a time or two, but her touch was sure and gentle. He appreciated that. She wasn’t trying to baby him.
“Does it hurt terribly?” she asked.
“Not much,” he replied, gritting his teeth.Like the devil.
“Would you like some brandy?”
“Would love some.”
