The Blushing Bounder (An Iron Seas Short Novella) by Meljean Brook Read Free Book Online Page A

him at a run—too fast, and they were past her, and she could not even call out.
    A hand touched her shoulder. She looked round, and the inspector frowned at her, shook her head. “Newberry’s lucky. The man we pulled out wasn’t.”
    How lucky?
    The inspector seemed to read her face. “He’ll be all right. They’re taking him to my father,” she said, and suddenly swept Temperance up in her arms—carrying her easily, even when she began to run.
    Good Lord. The bugs did this?
    Ahead, she saw the brothers flag down a steamcoach, but they didn’t wait for Temperance and the inspector. With a great bellow, it started off, and the inspector tossed her into the waiting spider rickshaw and shouted a direction to the driver as she climbed in.
    They scuttled off at speed. Temperance gripped the side of the cart to keep from jostling into the inspector. Her breathing had eased, a little, but she saw the inspector’s gaze fall to her bloody handkerchief, saw the hardening of the other woman’s eyes.
    “They’re taking him to my father,” she said, “but with this sort of abdominal wound, he’s likely to become septic after the surgery, do you understand? Without the bugs he’ll probably die. He needs the transfusion.”
    Was she asking the wife’s permission? Yes, yes. Temperance nodded wildly.
    “Newberry told me last night that he wouldn’t do it unless you did first.”
    Oh. There was no question, then. She would waffle about saving her own life. She wouldn’t do the same with his.
    “I will,” she said.

    It was simple for her. Temperance lay on a sofa, while the inspector’s father with his brown beard and sharp eyes gave her an injection of his own blood through a small hollow needle. Then he gave her a sleeping draught, and when she woke in an unfamiliar room, it was the next day, and her chest did not hurt, and her legs were not weak, and she walked down a stair without needing to cling to the banister.
    The boy—Andrew—met her at the bottom of the stair, and led her to the back of the house where Newberry lay upon a table, a blanket over his hips, his chest bare and his stomach covered in a bandage. He lifted his head and saw her, but the red stubble on his cheeks had darkened his skin, concealing most of his blush.
    She took his hand. “Good morning, constable.”
    “Good morning, wife.” His eyes searched her face. “How do you feel?”
    “Wonderful. And you?” She looked to his bandages.
    “His lordship says that I’ll be completely healed by this evening. He’ll let me leave after dinner.”
    “So all is well, husband?”
    “Yes.”
    For her, too. Temperance rested her cheek on his shoulder and wept.

5
    I T WAS NOT THE first time Temperance had dined at an earl’s house, but it was the most pleasant. No one cared that her husband sat at her side, and she did a very good job of not staring at the countess’s strange mirrored eyes.
    But though it was pleasant, she did not want to sit. For months now, it seemed that she had always been sitting, or sleeping, or in her bed. She wanted to walk and run all the way home, and then dance with Newberry around the rooms of their cozy, perfect little flat.
    Perhaps they noticed her impatience. After dinner, the inspector wore an amused expression as she walked with them to the waiting steamcoach. Newberry assisted Temperance inside the carriage, then turned to the inspector, gave a nod.
    The inspector closed the door after he climbed in, and said through the open window, “It has been quite the day, and this is the first night that you are both in full health since your marriage began. I won’t expect you early tomorrow morning, Newberry.”
    She rapped on the carriage’s side. It jolted forward, and in the dark Temperance didn’t know if Newberry’s face was as hot as hers, but she guessed that it likely was.
    “Is she always so bold?” Temperance wondered.
    He sounded as if he were choking. “I believe so.”
    Temperance could not be.