“Well, as you said, I have no training. I can do nothing without your help.”
She pulled him down and whispered in his ear, “But if you are forbidding me, as my husband, I will remind you that you do not have that power over me.”
He flushed and said nothing.
Lord Morpeth continued to worsen. He was delirious. He gave off a heat that filled the room. His pulse grew thready.
Alasdair knew that the crisis was imminent.
Lady Lyndmouth begged. Lady Morpeth looked grim.
In Lord Morpeth’s dressing room, with the butler Andrews and Arabella’s help, Alasdair took off his shirt and the swathe and sling. He tried moving his shoulder. He winced.
“Can you use the arm, Dr. Andrews?” Arabella asked.
She stood close to him. Even with his increasing fatigue, he longed for her, wanting to touch her cheek, to feel her hand on his chest.
“To a certain degree. ’Tis more that the pain inhibits movements I would normally do with ease.”
The butler helped him put his shirt back on, now allowing the right arm to be inside the right sleeve, and left the dressing room.
“You will be able to do the surgery?” Arabella asked.
“’Tis not advisable.”
Arabella said quietly, “So you will do nothing.”
“Usually, that is the best course.” Alasdair returned his right arm to the sling, leaving off the swathe. Arabella helped position it in place, and for a moment her hand lingered on his forearm.
“But not always,” she said.
“Aye, that is true. Only most of the time.”
“So we will wait until he dies.”
“I willnae kill him!”
“Are you worried that is what you will be accused of?”
“Nae, I am worried that I actually will kill him.”
“But you may also kill him from inaction. Sometimes, Alasdair, sometimes isn’t great harm caused by doing nothing in the attempt to avoid harm?”
It was the first time she had called him Alasdair since Lord Morpeth had dislocated his shoulder in the drawing room. Had that only been twenty-four hours ago?
He did not know if she was talking now about the surgery or about his own failure in regards to her. That years ago he had done nothing when every part of him had yearned for her. That he had let fear of rejection keep him from pursuing her. He had not risked failure. To protect himself, he had chosen to cherish her only in his heart rather than to cherish her in his arms.
And obviously, that had been a mistake. If he could take her at her word, she had yearned for him too and would have welcomed his affections. And, in time, she would have likely consented to be his wife.
And so much hurt would have been avoided.
If he had been brave. If he had risked himself.
Now the two of them, alone together in the dressing room. He thought of making a bargain with her.I will perform the surgery, Arabella, if ye consent to be my wife.It was a wild fancy that he quickly put away.
“Aye, Arabella.” He put his left hand to her cheek briefly and strode out of the dressing room.
“Every man with strong arms and a strong stomach will need to help. We must have the best light possible. And I will go now to the kitchen and look at the boning knives.”
