My Scandalous Viscount by Gaelen Foley Read Free Book Online Page B

had in the carriage. “I’m happy to say the bullet only grazed you. You need a few stitches, then you’ll be all better. Did you ever get stitches before, sweeting?”
    “No!” She cowered from the needle. “Does it hurt?”
    “Just a pinch. Nothing compared to getting shot, and you’ve already withstood that like a trooper.”
    She cringed again. He caressed her cheek, holding her gaze with stalwart confidence in his blue eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you sewn up in a trice.”
    “Wait, you’re going to do it? Where’s the surgeon—”
    “I can do it.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “I’ve done stitches loads of times, including on myself. It’s nothing. Just close your eyes and let me work, all right? The sooner we close this cut, the better off you’ll be. This will stop the bleeding. Now, relax. And trust me.”
    “I wish you would stop saying that.” She let out a low, unhappy, and dubious little moan, but she cooperated as he tilted her head so he could get started.
    Then, by the blaze of the lamps and candles everywhere, she noticed a long lock of her hair lying by some scissors on the table. “You cut my hair?” she protested.
    “Just the smallest bit! Well, I had to! It was in the way. I promise, you won’t even be able to tell. If you don’t like it, I’ll take you to the best milliner’s shop in London and buy you any hat you want. Now, can we please get this over with?”
    She closed her eyes again. “I hate you.”
    “I know, love.” She could hear the smile in his voice, feel the dangerous warmth of his charm. “Now, be still, or I’m going to kiss you again. Just like that day in Whitehall.”
    She smiled faintly, forgetting to scowl; then she peeked at him with one eye, and he flashed a roguish half smile at her. But when she saw him holding the needle over the candle flame to purify it, she went woozy again.
    Ugh, needles and bullets, all in one night!
    He took hold of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, but somehow stopped herself from squirming away, realizing he was only torturing her like this in order to help her.
    Then he got down to business, holding the torn ends of her skin together and piercing both with his needle.
    “I’ve decided,” he remarked in an idle tone as he worked, “that when all this is over . . . I am going to find you a husband.”
    “Oh, really?” she muttered, aware that he was talking to distract her from his work on her wound.
    “Mm-hmm. You need someone looking after you, I daresay. Some nice, safe chap to hold the leash.”
    “I’ll give you a leash,” she muttered.
    “Some good, solid, sensible fellow who’ll stop you from following every impulse like a harebrain. Why did you follow me? Just to snoop? Haven’t you ever heard what curiosity got the cat?”
    “Not to snoop,” she mumbled. “I was coming to save you.”
    “Save me? What are you talking about?”
    “I saw him. I saw the man. And I didn’t warn you. I’m so sorry . . .”
    “Oh, there, darling, don’t cry. I forgive you.”
    “That’s why I came over toward your theatre box tonight. I wanted to trade information, but you wouldn’t. You were so stubborn. What kind of viscount are you, anyway, that you know how to make stitches?”
    “You should see my fancy embroidery.”
    “Is this really the time for a joke, when a person has been shot?”
    “That’s the perfect time for a joke, in my experience. I have a good one for you. This toad goes into a tavern—”
    “I have blood coming out of my head!”
    “Yes, but not nearly as much as I’d feared. Believe you me, I’m thrilled about this. Delighted. You have no idea how happy I am right now that this wasn’t worse.”
    “Worse?”
    “I thought I was going to find the bullet lodged in your old noggin, but I’m happy to say, your clever brain’s untouched by all the fuss. It only grazed you. You were incredibly lucky, to be honest. An inch lower, and it could have taken off your earlobe and