Toxic - Zoe Blake Page 0,61
really need to stay,” called out a nurse over her shoulder as she ran alongside the gurney.
Without even looking at her, I nodded that I understood as I watched the man I loved, my husband, disappear through a pair of doors as they wheeled him into surgery.
As if in a daze, I slowly sank down onto my knees, buried my face in my skirts and burst into tears.
The hours ticked by with no word.
I couldn’t sit. All I could do was pace back and forth within the small confines of the private lounge they had given us to wait out Richard’s surgery.
My stupid skirts kept catching on the chair legs as I passed by.
“Your Grace, if I may?” said Harris.
It took me a minute to realize he was addressing me as ‘Your Grace.’
Looking down at his hand, I saw he held a knife. At my confused look, he gestured to the full skirts of my dress.
My shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes! Cut it off, Harris.”
“Stand still.”
He picked up a fistful of material and began to cut through the expensive silk as I leaned on his shoulder for support.
“I do apologize, Your Grace. I have sent some staff to retrieve some belongings for both of you but the hospital is locked down fairly tight with security and the entire city is on high alert looking for the shooter so it may take them awhile.”
The weight of the skirt fell away. I gave a grateful sigh, caring little that I now stood in only my bodice, a short silk slip that barely reached mid-thigh, and a pair of stockings, garters, and high heels.
One of his guards rushed over to drape a scratchy grey wool blanket over my shoulders.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out by the nurses?” asked Harris.
“I’m not injured.”
“Yes, but I was thinking more about shock.”
Giving him a weak smile, I shook my head no. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Harris nodded his understanding before turning to accept a hot cup of tea from a nearby staff member. “At least sit down and drink some tea. Richard would never forgive me if he found out I neglected you in any way.”
Taking in his brutal-looking face with its crooked nose, I almost felt sympathetic for the man. Richard had, after all, been shot on his watch. Taking the paper cup filled with hot tea from his hands, I gingerly sat on the edge of a nearby chair and sipped at its contents.
A nurse approached us. “He’s out of surgery and already coming out of the anesthesia. The doctor is with him now. I’ll take you to him.”
Abandoning my tea and blanket, I rushed to follow the nurse with Harris on my heels.
They led us into a darkened private room. The doctor was standing over Richard, speaking in hushed tones.
Richard was propped up slightly against some pillows. His muscled chest bare except for a thick white bandage taped in place in the center.
He reached for my hand. I clasped it close and held it over my heart as tears streaked down my cheeks.
“As I was telling His Grace, he is extremely fortunate. The bullet hit his sternum. A half an inch to the left and it would have punctured his heart.”
Richard shot Harris an annoyed glare. Harris’ shoulders lifted in a slight shrug.
It was an odd exchange, but I assumed Richard blamed him for not securing the cathedral better.
“We’re also fortunate it wasn’t a higher caliber bullet or it might have done some actual damage.”
“So, what are you saying, Doctor?” I asked anxiously.
The doctor smiled. “I’m saying, His Grace is one lucky son-of-a-bitch. He lost some blood and the impact of the bullet cracked a few ribs, but his sternum took the majority of the hit and deflected the bullet. He’ll have some bruising and one hell of a scar to brag about, but other than that, he’ll be fine in a few days.”
I threw myself on top of Richard, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Careful, love,” he said with a laugh, “or you’ll crack the other ribs.”
Shifting upright, I swiped at the tears on my cheeks. “I’m just so relieved you’re going to be okay.”
Richard’s face suddenly darkened. His brow furrowed as, despite his injury, he sat up straighter in bed. Looking over the railing of the gurney, his gaze surveyed me from head to toe. “Wife,” he growled. “What the hell are you wearing?”
My arms wrapped across my breasts and middle in a futile attempt to hide my scandalous