He jerked the foil free and gazed, horrified, at the bright red blood covering the tip.
Cassie felt nothing, save a sharp prick high on her shoulder, near her left arm.
“Please,” she cried, her face buried against the earl’s wet shirt, “no more.” She clasped her arms tightly around his neck and sobbed softly against his chest. “Please, if there must be more fighting, let me be the one. I cannot lose you. I would rather die than lose you.”
She felt the warmth of his breath against her forehead. “You are forever a surprise, Cassandra,” he whispered, as his hands ripped through the bloodied material of her gown. He drew a relieved breath. The foil thrust was not deep.
“Please take me home, Anthony.”
“That will be in large measure up to Edward Lyndhurst, cara. Well, Captain? Has your thirst for honor been slaked?”
“Cassie, you are hurt,” Edward said, “My God, what have I done?”
Cassie turned slightly in the earl’s arms. “It is nothing, Edward. All that matters is that you and he are safe. Please tell me, Edward, that you no longer wish his blood.”
“Dammit, Cassie, think of what he has done to you. How can you want such a man?”
“I do not know, Edward, but the fact remains that I do. It is true, you know I would not lie to you.”
Edward blinked the rain from his eyes. He stared blankly as the earl lifted Cassie into his arms.
“I believe, Lyndhurst,” the earl said quietly, “that the die has been cast. I, for one, certainly have no wish to be impaled on your foil.”
Slowly, Edward nodded. “Your shoulder, Cass,” he said, staring at the red stain that was spreading over her gown.
“If you wish, Lyndhurst, you can accompany me back to The Cassandra. I will take care of her there.”
“But you cannot. It’s I who must—”
“She has made her choice. Enough, let us leave this place before we all succumb to an inflammation of the lungs in this blasted rain.”
Cassie raised her head from the earl’s shoulder. “Thank you, Edward. You need have no more fears for me. I am going home.” She was smiling.
“It’s but a scratch, cara. I will give you two days before I lay you over my knee.” The earl straightened and pulled the bedcover higher on her back.
“Do you wish some laudanum, my lord?” Scargill asked as he handed the earl the basilicum powder.
“Nay, if she suffers any pain it will serve her right. I have had enough of your dramatic antics, Cassandra, to last me a lifetime.”
“He is cruel, Scargill, but I shall make him pay, never fear.”
Her grin became a wince as he gently bound the wound with a light bandage. He pulled her damp mass of hair away from her body and tucked the covers more tightly around her.
“We will give her a glass of wine for her breakfast, Scargill.”
“Yes, my lord, right away.” Scargill sprinkled a goodly amount of laudanum into the red wine.
As the earl helped her onto her back and puffed the pillows behind her head, she eyed the wine warily. “I really don’t wish any, my lord.”
“Nonsense, it will put you in a better frame of mind, and, I trust, calm your shrew’s tongue.”
“Oh, very well,” she said, and downed the wine. “I do wish that you would give me a nightgown.”
Before the earl answered her, he turned to Scargill, who sported a beaming smile. “Thank you, Scargill. I believe I can well handle our patient now. Go remove those wet clothes. I want none of us to become ill.”
“Now about that nightgown, Cassandra,” the earl said after Scargill had let himself out of the cabin. The smile disappeared as he gazed down at her white face. “For God’s sake, what is the matter?”
“It is the wine,” she gasped, and looked wildly about for a basin. “Please, my lord, I am going to be ill.”
He got her the basin with not an instant to spare. When at last she lay against the pillows, pale and blown, he said gently, “Lie still, love. This time we will try some water, no wine.”