Renard didn’t have time to ask the stupid, mechanical,stupidman what was so damn funny because Gregori stood and beckoned him forward.
“It’s a partial dislocation. The pain will increase until the muscles swell, possibly tearing in the event of further assault. The upper arm bone needs to be placed back in the socket immediately.”
Renard blinked. That was the most words he’d ever heard the man string together, but why the hell was he telling him?
“I’m right here,” Miss Forthright said, gaze narrowed. “Eyes and ears, and perfectly ablelegs.”
Renard internally smiled at her subtle threat. Gregori was too cold a creature for a woman like her, all fire and steel. Mood restored, he gave the other man his back and asked her, “What do you want to do?”
She jolted, seeming surprised he’d asked. “NowI get a say?’
“All of this has been your decision.” He stopped her with an upraised hand before she could skewer him with another well-aimed insult. “Aside from refusing to let you fall unconscious in a dark alley.”
Her expression closed as she went through her thoughts. He hadn’t forced her to follow him towards the harbor, nor to the warehouse. He’d made sure to keep her apprised of the direction he was heading and to not-so-subtly imply that he’d wait for her, but she’d walked on her own two feet, for most of the way, right up until this moment.
She shifted on the table and took in a lungful of air through gritted teeth. Part of her dress fell to the side, revealing a nasty bruise and unnatural jutting joint at her shoulder, almost as violently colored as her wrist.
Renard’s fists clenched. Her body, her decision. His own guardianship over his sister, troublesome and sweet Charlotte, had taught him the fear of how women were treated outside the protective embrace of a male relative. As such, he believed a woman had the right to choose when, where, and who would touch them... but if Miss Forthright didn’t do something in the next ten seconds, he’d have to leave the warehouse or else he may very well turn into a smog-breathing dragon and force the woman into letting the crackpot fix her. Renard would gladlytake the beating from her as long as she stopped grimacing in pain.
A change of tactics, then; she was sensical and, therefore, could be reasoned with. “Miss Forthright—”
“Let me attend you or get out,” Gregori said in that uncomfortable, bored tone he used. “I have work to get back to.”
Renard could’ve strangled him.
“All right,” she said. “Do it.”
Renard blinked. “Really?”
She arched a severely slanted brow at him. “Did you expect hysterics? Tears?”
“I expected you to say ‘no.’”
She lifted her chin, a new light of challenge sparking in her eyes. “I rarely do what’s expected of me.”
Women were already unpredictable creatures, confusing and, indeed, hysterical. Renard couldn’t fathom why when Miss Forthright said as much, with those wide and intelligent eyes fixed on him, it in no way made him wish to dash for the hills.
Chapter Four
The hard woodof the tabletop left Renard’s tailbone aching, but the ache in his groin was more pressing. As he held Miss Forthright against his chest per Gregori’s instruction, he hoped the woman mistook the hardness between them as one of the dozens of tools strewn about the warehouse and not the jutting erection straining against his button fly.
She was lean and soft against him, her back curve molding to his torso and chest indecently, perfectly. The light from the buzzing bulbs overhead bathed her profile in warm light, playing with the golden hues woven through her auburn hair. She had a beauty mark on her neck, perfectly hidden under the line of her jaw. No one would know it was there unless permitted intimately close. He liked knowing. And that smell of flowers, no perfumes or imitations, unlike anything he’d smelled on a woman’s skin. It was enough for a man to appreciate the vendors selling lilies and romance on the side of the street.
Gregori offered her a strip of leather to place between her teeth.
She reached for it and gasped.
Damn it!He should’ve stopped at the tavern for a whiskey... for her. He scowled at the other man. “Don’t you have something for the pain?”
Gregori shrugged.
If he hadn’t been holding Miss Forthright, he’d have punched the crackpot in the jaw.
“I’m fine,” she said around the makeshift mouth guard, her statement ruined when she grimaced again.
“Do something—now!”
Gregori shook his head. “I work with metal, not people.”
