“Listen,” he said as the carriage slowed, reaching Logan’s house. “We’re marrying tonight or tomorrow.”
“What?” Her stomach fluttered. Had he lost his mental faculties?
“I’ve had one goal all these years. Find you and keep you safe. You have to let me do this just in case.”
At those last words, tears once again sprung to her eyes. He was worried he would die and his last wish was to see her cared for? “You’re going to live.”
“We both know I might not. It’s a gunshot.” The carriage stopped and for a moment they both held still. “I wanted to die, Clarissa. Right up to the moment I saw your blue eyes staring back at me and then…I wished to live again. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman whom I admire and…” He gave her a gentle smile as his fingers stroked her cheek. “Whom I think about all the time. Let me provide for your future. Whether I live or die, as a countess, you’ll be protected from his accusations. Whoever he is. He won’t be able to touch you.”
Her throat closed as emotion overwhelmed her. A sob broke free of her lips as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re not going to die. I won’t allow it. And I know you’ll keep me safe whether or not I’m your wife.”
He closed his eyes at that, his head falling back on the seat. “We’ll discuss it after I see the doctor.” He shifted, wincing. “But let’s get inside.”
She straightened, realizing he was right. She drew in a deep breath. She had to clear out the emotion and allow her brain to begin working.
With that, she snapped open the door. “Help,” she called, sliding out of the carriage and racing up the stairs. “I need help.”
Logan and his butler came rushing out the door. Within minutes they had Mason settled into a bed. The doctor had been sent for and Clarissa set to work dressing the wound.
She’d cut away his shirt and as she stared at the muscular ridges of his chest, she pressed her lips together to keep from whimpering.
This man had to be all right. How had they circled back to this?
And since they’d only just found each other, there was
so much to say. She’d love for him to convince her that she’d been wrong all these years and there was a chance they might be happy together.
And she wanted to hear more about his father, his childhood. She wanted to wash away his fears the same way she now washed blood from his abdomen.
Quite without meaning to, she began to sing as she worked. Amazingly, the pressure had stemmed the bleeding and she was careful not to interrupt the clotting as she wiped.
The hole was smaller than she’d imagined, and hope began to creep in. He might be all right.
“We’re back,” Logan called from the door. A doctor stepped in behind him.
“Thank goodness,” Clarissa breathed.
Logan, however, gave her a hard glare. “Penny told you not to go out alone. What were you thinking?”
“Logan,” Mason said from the bed. “That discussion can wait until later.”
Logan’s jaw clenched but then he gave a stiff nod. “Fine.”
Mason looked at Clarissa, his eyes pleading. “Give Logan and I a moment, love.”
“The doctor might need help.” She knew she should go as Mason wished, but she didn’t want to leave his side.
“Wait in the hall. It will only take a minute.”
With a deep breath, she turned and headed to the door. She hadn’t knelt in prayer since she’d left Dover but as soon as she reached the halls, she dropped to her knees and clasped her hands.
Please let Mason be all right.
Mason winced as the doctor gently rolled him over.
“At least the bullet went clean through,” he murmured. “And the bleeding has slowed significantly. Both good signs. The risk going forward is infection.” He looked toward the door. “Did I hear that Miss Hershel did a stint caring for soldiers?”
“Yes,” Mason gritted out. “I was one of them.”