Page 68 of The Unseen Hour

“—there was a time I accidentally stumbled on a slycat with a cub. That was an exciting day. Had to stitch up my own arm.”

I’d seen the scar when he’d had his sleeves rolled up, working in the garden.

He gasped as I sliced away another chunk of fabric.

“This will leave another scar, I’d wager. Probably not the way most people picture a duke.”

He hissed again at the next bit of fabric being pulled from his skin.

“Almost done,” I assured him, not reminding him that I’d then have to wash the area. “And I think you’re far more handsome than any duke who’s done nothing but sit on his estate.”

There was no biting comeback, no flirtatious commentary in response. That worried me more than anything.

“You know, I have a scar as well,” I admitted.

“Really. Tell me.” His voice was hoarse.

I told him about my fall from Pellix and our encounter with the wolf as I did the best I could to clean the area thoroughly without causing him further agony.

“Brave woman. Brave stallion. I think I’ll like Pellix,” he said.

Then his eyes fluttered closed.

I clutched his face, leaving streaks of dirt and blood on his cheeks.

“You have to stay awake! Tell me how to brace your leg!”

Something told me that if I let him slip into unconsciousness, he’d be in even worse danger.

I kissed him, desperately, trying any contact to rouse him that wasn’t painful.

“Maybe … should get injured … more often.”

I was crying by that point but kept my composure as well as I could.

He walked me through the steps to brace his leg, his voice growing fainter and fainter.

I used wood and rope from the garden supplies, along with some torn strips of clean fabric, following all his instructions to create a splint.

“There, done!” I looked up at him as I finished tying the last bit of fabric, gasping when I saw his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open.

“Orion! Ry! No!” I kissed his cheek, but he didn’t even move. I took him by the shoulders, shaking him. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I needed him to stay conscious. “You’re all right!”

If I said it enough, it might be true. I pulled him toward me, hugging him tight against my chest.

“Please wake up!”

“You know, this might be counterintuitive if you want me to have room to breathe, not that I’m complaining.”

I practically threw him off me, sobbing and laughing at once.

“You wretched man! You terrified me.”

I didn’t have any time to puzzle over whether he’d meant the comment to be as flirtatious as it had sounded. I just had to keep him conscious.

He’d made a soup a couple of days before, and I heated some over the fire. I brought it out along with some of the purple almost-potatoes, hand-feeding him. I sagged with relief as some of his color began to return.

Once I’d lectured him into sipping some water as well, he looked to be in no immediate danger of passing out again.