Married By Morning (The Hathaways #4)(17)

“What are you going to do?” she asked, bewildered.

He sounded rather sheepish. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to wait here until you send someone for me.”

“Why?”

“I have a—” He paused, searching for a word. “Splinter.”

She felt indignant. “You’re going to make me ride back alone and unescorted and virtually blind, to send someone to rescue you? All because you have a splinter?”

“A large one,” he volunteered.

“Where is it? Your finger? Your hand? Maybe I can help to … Oh, God. ” This last as he took her hand and brought it to his shoulder. His shirt was wet with blood, and a thick shard of timber protruded from his shoulder. “That’s not a splinter,” she said in horror. “You’ve been impaled. What can I do? Shall I pull it out?”

“No, it might be lodged against an artery. And I wouldn’t care to bleed out down here.”

She crawled closer to him, bringing her face close to his to examine him anxiously. Even in the shadows, he appeared pale and gray, and when she pressed her fingers to his forehead, she felt cool moisture.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It looks worse than it is.”

But Catherine didn’t agree. If anything, it was worse than it looked. She was infused with panic as she wondered if he were going into shock, a condition in which the heart did not pump enough blood to maintain the body. It had been described as a “momentary pause in the act of death.”

Stripping off her riding coat, she tried to lay it over his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Trying to keep you warm.”

Leo plucked the garment off his chest and made a scoffing sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. First, the injury isn’t that bad. Second, this tiny thing is not capable of keeping any part of me warm. Now, about my plan—”

“It is obviously a significant injury,” she said, “and I do not agree to your plan. I have a better one.”

“Of course you do,” he replied sardonically. “Marks, for once would you do as I ask?”

“No, I’m not going to leave you here. I’m going to pile up enough debris for both of us to climb out.”

“You can’t even see, damn it. And you can’t move these timbers and stones. You’re too small.”

“There is no need to make derogatory remarks about my stature,” she said, lurching upward and squinting at her surroundings. Identifying the highest pile of debris, she made her way to it and hunted for nearby rocks.

“I’m not being derogatory.” He sounded exasperated. “Your stature is absolutely perfect for my favorite activity. But you’re not built for hauling rocks. Blast it, Marks, you’re going to hurt yourself—”

“Stay there,” Catherine said sharply, hearing him push some heavy object aside. “You’ll worsen your injury, and then it will be even more difficult to get you out. Let me do the work.” Finding a heap of ashlar blocks, she picked one up and lugged it up the pile, trying not to trip over her own skirts.

“You’re not strong enough,” Leo said, sounding aggravated and out of breath.

“What I lack in physical strength,” she replied, going for another block, “I make up for in determination.”

“How inspiring. Could we set aside the heroic fortitude for one bloody moment and dredge up some common sense?”

“I’m not going to argue with you, my lord. I need to save my breath for”—she paused to heft another block—“stacking rocks.”

Somewhere amid the ordeal, Leo decided hazily that he would never underestimate Catherine Marks again. Ounce for ounce, she was the most insanely obstinate person he had ever known, dragging rocks and debris while half blind and hampered by long skirts, diligently crossing back and forth across his vision like an industrious mole. She had decided to build a mound upon which they could climb out, and nothing would stop her.

Occasionally she stopped and put her hand on his forehead or throat, checking his temperature and pulse. And then she would be off again.

It was maddening not to be able to help her—humiliating to let a woman do such work without him—but every time he tried to stand, he became dizzy and disoriented. His shoulder was on fire, and he couldn’t use his left arm properly. Cold sweat dripped from his face and stung his eyes.

He must have drifted off for a few minutes, because the next thing he was aware of was Catherine’s urgent hands shaking him awake.

“Marks,” he said groggily. “What are you doing here?” He had the confused impression that it was morning, and she wanted him to awaken before his usual hour.

“Don’t sleep,” she said with an anxious frown. “I’ve built the pile high enough that we can climb out now. Come with me.”

His body felt as if it had been encased in lead. He was overwhelmed with weariness. “In few minutes. Let me doze a bit longer.”

“Now, my lord.” Clearly she would bully and badger him until he obeyed. “Come with me. Up with you. Move.”

Leo complied with a groan, lurching until he had staggered to his feet. A cold burst of pain radiated from his shoulder and arm, and a few helpless curses slipped out before he could stop himself. Oddly, Catherine didn’t rebuke him.