Page 44 of Hastings (Brothers in Arms #15)

CHAPTER 44

M addy woke up in Stephen’s bed. She smiled and started to stretch, and then realized she was terribly thirsty, and her arm was incredibly sore, and she couldn’t move it.

“Ow,” she said softly.

“Maddy?” She heard a chair creek and opened her eyes to see Hastings leaning over the bed.

“Why are you dressed already?” she asked. “What time is it?” Her mind was quite fuzzy.

“Stephen!” Hastings yelled. He looked terrible, which wasn’t easy for Hastings because he was so handsome.

“Are you ill?” Maddy asked with concern. “Here, lie down.” She started to get up, but that damn arm of hers still wasn’t working right. It hurt like the devil, though.

“Me?” Hastings asked, sound incredulous. “You got shot!”

That brought Maddy up short. “Did I?” she asked. She finally looked down at her arm. It was in a tight sling, and she could see some blood seeping through the bandage on it. “I’ll be damned,” she said. “That’s a new one.”

Hastings took her working hand in his and fell to his knees beside the bed. He kissed her palm. “Do not ever do that again.” He held his mouth on her palm for a moment and then kissed her wrist. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I was too slow.”

“ I was too slow,” she said. “I’m the one who got shot.” That seemed fairly obvious to her, and she wondered if he truly was not feeling well.

She heard Stephen’s steps pounding up the stairs, and then several others behind him. There was a lot of chatter and shouting, then Stephen came careening into the room.

“Maddy?” he said breathlessly.

“You don’t look well, either,” Maddy chastised him. “You both should be in bed with me.”

“Saints preserve us,” Mrs. Tulane muttered from the doorway.

“Mrs. Tulane,” Maddy said, horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that. They just, they don’t look well. Are they unwell?”

Mrs. Tulane was dabbing at the corner of her eye. “They’ll be fine, now, don’t you worry,” she said in her brusque voice. “I’ll just go and make some tea, then.” She turned and hurried from the room.

Essie was standing in the doorway, frowning at her, her arms crossed. Now here was someone who seemed perfectly fine. “Essie,” she said with relief. “What is going on?”

“You went and got yourself shot playing the hero,” Essie told her. “What a damn fool thing to do.”

“Heroine,” she corrected Essie. “I’m a woman. I’m a heroine.” Her eyes were getting very heavy.

“Yes, you are,” Stephen said, sitting on the side of the bed beside Hastings. He put his hand on her leg. “You saved my life.”

“Well, of course, silly,” she said. Then she yawned. “I couldn’t let them kill you, could I?” Her eyes popped open as memories came flooding back. “Bloody hell,” she said.

“Now she remembers,” Essie said.

“I’m sorry,” Hastings said in a broken voice. “I failed you. I should have seen it, the trap. Instead, I fell right into it. And it nearly got you both killed.”

“I didn’t see it, either, darling,” she told him, tightening her grip on his hand. She felt very weak. “And I practically invented it. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the divide and conquer.”

“I don’t think you invented that,” Stephen said, shaking his head.

“The way Dickie used it, I did,” she informed him. She looked away. “I guess you know how awful I am now.”

“I don’t know any such thing,” Stephen said softly. “You very nearly died saving my life. I don’t think that’s so very awful.”

“She didn’t nearly die,” a strange voice said. Maddy looked over at the door to see a smiling gentleman. “They’ll have you at death’s door and you’re in no such condition.”

“Maddy, this is Dr. Pearson,” Stephen said.

“It’s just a scratch,” Maddy told him. “Nothing vital was pierced.”

“I was going to say exactly that,” the doctor said with a surprised look.

“I’ve watched men bleed out,” she told him. “I know a little scratch when I’ve got one.”

“I told you both she’d be fine,” Essie said impatiently. “Honestly, Mads, the way they’ve been carrying on.”

Hastings had her hand pressed to his cheek and his eyes were closed. The tear that seeped out ran down onto her hand.

“Hastings, I’m fine,” she whispered. “I promise. I shall be up and irritating you in no time.”

“You better be,” he told her. “I’m not leaving your side until you are.”

Essie threw her hands up in the air dramatically and walked out, making Maddy giggle.

“In that case, go and fetch The Modern Prometheus ,” she told him, yawning again. “I want to hear the end of it.” Recent experience had taught her that giving Hastings a job to do was the quickest way to distract him.

Hastings fetched the book, but it was Stephen who read to them as they lay entwined on the bed. Hastings would not let go of her, and she reveled in his obvious care and concern for her. She listened to Stephen read of Frankenstein’s final days aboard Walton’s ship, his demise, and the final, wrenching anguish of the creature, dozing on and off.

Hastings lay with his head pillowed on her lap, his breathing even as Stephen shut the book.

“The monster was forced by the cruelty of others to do what he did,” Maddy said quietly.

“Yes, he was,” Stephen agreed.

“But I can’t like Frankenstein,” she mused. “His poor choices were what drove the monster to revenge and madness. Even as he lay dying, he bragged of his own brilliance and worthiness.” She paused. “Do you think the creature killed himself as he said he would? Because of the things he did? Because he wasn’t fit to live?”

“I don’t know,” Stephen said. “What do you think?”

“I think he thought about it.” She considered it for a moment. “But he was human, inside, for all the horror of his appearance. And where there is hope, there is life.”

“He’s still clambering around out there on the ice,” Hastings muttered. “He won’t trust himself back among society, but he doesn’t have the nerve to end it.”

Maddy shivered and Hastings immediately got up and found a warm shawl for her shoulders.

“Don’t go and catch a chill now that you’re on the mend,” he ordered. He lay back down next to her, crossing his ankles as he held her hand.

“Do you think I’m like the creature?” Maddy asked them, voicing the fear she’d been harboring for some time, but was unable to put into words until they’d read Mrs. Shelley’s work.

“What are you talking about?” Hastings asked in voice full of angry disbelief.

“I mean, someone made him into what he was, pieced him together into this horrible creature who did unspeakable things.”

Stephen put the book down and crawled onto the bed on her other side. “Absolutely not,” he told her. “You’re nothing like the creature. You’ve done what you had to do to survive. He did it out of revenge.” He leaned down and kissed her neck. “He would not have shoved me aside and taken a bullet meant for me.”

“If you ever do something so stupid again, I’ll…well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.” Hastings rolled over to glare at her from her lap.

“Again, you really need to work on your threats,” Maddy told him. “They are not in the least bit intimidating.”

Hastings growled and buried his face in her stomach, tickling her.

“None of that,” Stephen said, pushing Hastings off her. “The doctor said she needs to rest.”

“I’m fine, really,” Maddy insisted. “I mean, we are in bed, after all.” She batted her eyelashes at Stephen. “You could both take terrible advantage of me, and I couldn’t do a thing about it with this arm.” She wiggled her arm in the sling and then winced.

“Rest,” Hastings said, standing up beside the bed. “Although you do seem much improved. I’m going to see if Mrs. Tulane has any more of that soup for you.”