nose of their attacker, making the thief’s head snap back. Crimson blood spurted from the man’s nose, giving Garrett a small sense of satisfaction.
The bandit’s eyes narrowed. His grip tightened on the knife as he lunged.
Garrett feinted to his left, then delivered a series of powerful blows to the robber’s midsection. He crumpled, collapsing into a heap at their feet.
Garrett calmly turned to Madeleine, whose face was white with fear. He pulled her to him. “Are you all right?”
She stammered, “Y-yes. But we must see to you.”
Following the direction of her gaze, he stared at the blood flowing down his leg. The pain hit him, sharp and throbbing.
She reached for the hem of her tunic and tore a wide strip from the bottom, tying it tightly around his leg.
“Let us hurry, my lord. We must see to your wound at once.”
He sighed. “I do wish you’d quit my lording me, Madeleine. Garrett—or my love—would do wonders for my health.”
She rolled her eyes. “Get up on Ebony, my dearest Garrett, before I inflict more damage to you myself.” She smiled at him sweetly.
“Now that’s much better,” he said a bit woozily as he gave her a lazy smile.
With her help, he was able to mount Ebony, then he reached and lifted her in front of him.
The light had faded fast and the streets emptied quickly as they made their way to his London residence. He refused to take her back to the room she had been letting.
“We’ll send for your things tomorrow, love. But for now, you’ll return with me. I wouldn’t want to chance your safety.”
*
Three-quarters of an hour later, they reached their destination. Garrett’s home was small by Stanbury standards but Madeleine was impressed with it all the same.
She slid off Ebony as a lanky groom appeared. “Had a mishap, my lord?”
“Just a little fracas, John.” Garrett eased off the horse with a grimace and handed the reins to his servant. Madeleine quickly took his arm and helped him to the house.
A tiny housekeeper, who barely came to Madeleine’s chest, greeted them.
“Hello, Maude,” Garrett called out weakly. “This is Madeleine. She’s even feistier than you.”
Calmly, as though Garrett came in bloody on a daily basis, the servant said, “We’ll need to dress your wound, my lord, and then get you something to eat.”
Madeleine watched Maude take charge of Garrett, fussing over him as she led him upstairs to his bed, making sure his gashed leg was propped up with pillows.
“Madeleine can attend my injury, Maude. Just bring me a tender chicken with your famous sauce and I’ll be fine in no time.”
“Chickens are the very thing I need,” Madeleine proclaimed.
She and Maude went off in search of chickens and Madeleine asked the servant for wine, as well.
Soon, she returned to Garrett with a tray. He grinned lazily at her.
“I need to undress you, my lord,” she told him. “I must see to your wound.”
He grinned at her. “Will you see to others things, too?”
Exasperated, she pushed him back onto the pillows and unwound the strip of cloth from his leg. Both his pants and hose were soaked with blood, which had begun to clot. She removed his boots, followed by his clothing.
She cleaned the deep slice first with water then warned him, “This will sting,” before pouring wine over the gash. He sucked in air loudly through clenched teeth as the wine touched his skin.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Taking care of you the best I know how,” she replied tartly. “I’ll either save you or kill you in the process. We’ll just have to await the outcome.”
“You’re worse than facing a herd of bloody Scots,” he muttered. “It’s not even a scratch.”
She ignored him as he rambled on, rubbing the whites of eggs across the wound to provide a soothing balm. As she brought the skin close together, she chanted, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Mary. The wound was red, the cut deep, the flesh be sore, but there will be no more blood or pain until the Blessed Virgin bears a child again.”
Binding it with a clean cloth, she leaned back and surveyed her work.
He smiled. “Never have I had such a lovely nurse.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss upon her knuckles.
She looked him in eyes. “Oh, no, my lord, you aren’t to move a muscle.” She removed her hand from his and folded them both primly in her lap.
“Mayhap you are right,” he