Blood Blade Sisters Series (23 page)

Brynne gasped and dropped to her knees, ignoring the doctor’s shouts of protest as he dropped down beside her.

The blood looked like it was coming from the man’s arm, but Brynne couldn’t see the injury through his clothes. She grasped the man’s torn sleeve and yanked hard, ripping it clean off. Dr. Oliver looked at her in surprise but turned his attention back to the injured man who had a gash on his arm that was pumping blood out at an alarming rate.

The man whimpered and Brynne spared a glance for him. He was hardly more than a boy. She doubted he was seventeen—if that. And he was terrified. He needed to calm down. His accelerated heart rate was only serving to pump the blood out of his body faster.

“Hi there,” Brynne said, trying to make her voice as soothing as possible. He turned his frightened gaze to her and she gave him the most reassuring smile she could muster. “You’re going to be fine, all right? But I need you to try and calm down for me.”

The man nodded, but his breathing didn’t slow. And neither did the blood. It didn’t help matters that Dr. Oliver was bellowing like a constipated mule for someone to bring him a stretcher and bandages.

Brynne shot the doctor a scathing look but turned to the injured man again. “Look at me, okay? Right here,” she said, pointing at her eyes.

The man obeyed her and she smiled at him. “There you go.” She fumbled with the hem of her dress and grasped her petticoat.

“What are you doing?” the doctor asked, the shock clear in his voice. Brynne could picture the look on his face, but she was too busy trying to save his patient to risk a glance. She grabbed hold of the bottom of her petticoat and yanked, ripping a long length from it.

“I’m going to wrap this around your arm. You keep right on looking at me,” she told the psatient.

Brynne went to wrap the bandage around his wound to form a tourniquet, but the doctor took it from her. Brynne took her eyes from her patient for a second and looked at the doctor. His face had softened. He gazed at her, almost bewildered, but at least he wasn’t trying to shove her out of the way anymore. He took the makeshift bandage and started to bind the man’s arm.

Brynne took the wounded man’s hand in her own. He whimpered again and she murmured soothingly to him. “What’s your name?”

“Edward,” he said. His voice was barely audible.

“Edward, that is my father-in-law’s name also. A good, strong name. Is it a family name?”

Edward nodded. “My father’s name.”

Dr. Oliver had finished binding his arm and motioned to some men passing by with a stretcher.

“Edward, Dr. Oliver is going to get you taken care of, all right? They need to take you inside the clinic.”

“Will you come, too?”

Brynne glanced at the doctor who nodded with no hesitation this time, although his brow was still drawn in perplexed wrinkles as he regarded her.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be right here. Ready?”

Edward nodded again and the men quickly transferred him onto the stretcher and carried him through the rubble into the clinic.

Brynne stayed right on the doctor’s heels and when there were no available nurses to assist him in stitching Edward’s arm, Brynne scrubbed her hands and did the best she could to help. The doctor managed to get the bleeding to slow and he repaired what damage he could inside the wound and stitched it up. Edward had long since fainted from the pain, which was a blessing.

He’d begun to dress and bind the wound when a shout drew his attention.

“Dr. Oliver!”

The doctor looked in the direction of the shouting nurse and swore under his breath. She and two other nurses where trying to hold down a patient with a head wound who was convulsing.

Dr. Oliver placed a wad of bandages over Edward’s wound and put Brynne’s hands on top. “Bind this as best you can for now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Brynne nodded and carefully wrapped the bandage around Edward’s arm. The movement caused Edward to whimper but he didn’t fully wake. Brynne looked at the rest of his arm. His shoulder had a huge bruise that was coloring nicely, and one of his fingers was definitely broken. Brynne gently probed his shoulder and Edward moaned again.

“Dr. Oliver,” she called. Edward’s finger needed to be splinted and his shoulder was dislocated. Resetting both the finger and joint would be better done while Edward was still unconscious.

Dr. Oliver glanced up but immediately turned his attention to stitching the bleeding gash of the patient before him.

After several minutes it became clear the doctor wasn’t coming back soon. Brynne bit her lip. She knew what to do. It certainly wouldn’t be the first broken bone or dislocated joint she’d set, and in far worse conditions than her present surroundings. In fact, her sister Cilla had received similar injuries when she’d been thrown from a horse when they were younger.

Brynne looked around. Everyone was scurrying to and fro, their attention focused elsewhere. Edward moaned again.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Brynne muttered.

She took Edward’s forearm in one hand, placed her other on his shoulder, set her feet, and pulled with a quick, hard yank. Edward jerked with a groan as his joint popped back into place, but he didn’t wake. Brynne went to work on splinting his finger.

Dr. Oliver returned right as she was finishing.

“Mrs. Forrester! How dare yo—”

“Shhh.” Brynne shushed him, shooting him a furious glare. If he woke the poor boy when she’d tried so hard to keep him asleep through the whole procedure she’d brain him with a bedpan.

The doctor sputtered, his face bright red with anger. Until he looked at his patient’s arm. His stitches had been dressed and neatly bound, the swelling at his shoulder had already reduced, and his broken finger lay, swollen but straight, between the others. Brynne felt a small rush of pride. She did damn fine work, if she did say so herself.

“Excuse me,” she said, elbowing the doctor out of the way so she could finish binding Edward’s finger to the small splint she’d found.

Dr. Oliver stepped back with a bemused expression on his face and let her finish up.

“All right then,” she said when she’d finished. “Did you have something to say to me?”

The doctor’s lips pursed in a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Let’s see to the others. Then we can speak in my office.”

Brynne nodded, tamping down the rush of adrenaline flooding through her system. She hadn’t felt this alive and useful since she’d arrived in Boston. She wasn’t sure how much of the feeling was stemming from helping Edward or from the upcoming confrontation with the doctor. The possibility that it might be the latter dampened the sensation a bit.

By the time Edward was peacefully resting, Dr. Oliver’s face had lost a bit of the irritated and confused look, and by the time they’d made the rounds to the rest of the ward during which Brynne helped bandage and clean up all manner of vile bodily fluids and messes, he’d lost it altogether. In fact, as they removed their stained aprons and washed the blood from their hands, the doctor kept glancing at her with bemused surprise. And a begrudging respect.

“What is it?” she asked him with a mild glare. “Did I miss a spot? Is there a smudge on my face?”

He grinned, and the laugh lines around his eyes made a reappearance. “No. You’ve surprised me, that’s all. Not many people do.”

“I suspect a great many women would surprise you if you’d give them half the chance.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Most of the gentlewomen in Boston are just that. Gently born, gently raised. Brought up to be patrons of the arts and the city, and preside at fetes and balls and fundraisers, and run their households. Very few could handle themselves as well as you did today.”

Brynne snorted. “I’ve field dressed bullet wounds and sewn up injuries with the needle and thread from my sewing kit. A little blood or case of the backdoor trots isn’t going to make me faint.”

Dr. Oliver’s eyes rose and Brynne flushed. He must think she was unforgivably crass.

“You’ll have to tell me about your experiences one of these days, Mrs. Forrester.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again, Dr. Oliver?” she asked.

His lips twitched and he rubbed his knuckle over his lips. “Why not? Why don’t you come back on Monday? We can give it a trial period and see how you do.”

Brynne released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She told herself it was because she was so looking forward to being useful again. It had nothing to do with wanting to see the arrogant ass. Even now, after everything she’d done that morning to help, he was still only willing to let her return on a trial. Fine. She’d show him what she was capable of.

“Well then, I suppose I will see you Monday then, Dr. Oliver.”

“I’ll escort you home.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Necessary or not, I will accompany you.”

Arguing further was pointless, so Brynne gathered her shawl and waited by the door.

Her heart fluttered as he strode toward her. She didn’t like what the sensation might mean. She would have to be careful around the doctor.

He smiled when he reached her and her heart jumped again.

Oh, yes. Very careful.

Chapter Three

If Brynne had realized what a commotion arriving home on the arm of
the
Doctor Richard Oliver would cause, she would have been more forceful in insisting he remain at the clinic. Cora was beside herself with smug excitement. She’d been trying to get Brynne to show some interest in the eligible bachelors around town, feeling she’d been a grieving widow for too long. But Brynne wasn’t ready for any of that and had told her so in no uncertain terms.

Judging from her mother-in-law’s expression, being escorted home by a handsome and seemingly unattached man made Cora as pleased as a cat with his nose in a fish barrel. It was, however, a huge disappointment for the woman Cora was entertaining.

Mrs. Morey sat ramrod straight in her chair, her hands folded primly in her lap, with the most scathing look of dislike Brynne had so far seen in this fair city. The look evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, to be replaced with a smile that barely touched her lips.

Brynne was a little confused by Mrs. Morey’s enmity in this particular instance. She supposed it might have to do with running into Brynne for a
third
time that day. That might be enough to drive the poor old biddy to drink. Then again, Mrs. Morey had never needed a reason to dislike Brynne. None of the society women Brynne had attempted to socialize with had been very welcoming. Brynne was damned thrice over for committing the unpardonable sins of having been born “out in the heathen west” instead of in their fair city, for having an obscene amount of money that came from a ranch and a mine she had worked herself, and for being widowed and independent and wanting to stay that way.

Brynne had never quite understood the society mavens’ disdain of her wealth. The vast majority of their families had earned their money the old fashioned way, by working for it in every industry from textiles to seafaring. Frankly, the way in which many prominent Bostonian families had made their wealth and what they chose to do with it was one of the reasons Brynne had assumed she’d fit in well.

Quite a few families had been a little less than ethical, or even legal, when it came to building their fortunes. There was more than one family in Boston who had a few fingers in the smuggling trade and rum-running, not to mention the occasional outright swindle. But, they were incredibly generous with their oft-times ill-gotten gains—patronizing museums, schools, hospitals, and many other worthy institutions. In truth, they weren’t so different from a girl who’d spent a few years raiding the corrupt wealthy of the west behind the mask of a bandit in order to save her town and ranch from going under.

The Bostonian elite weren’t flashy with their wealth either, and didn’t seem to approve of those who were, an attitude Brynne admired. But Brynne, with her hazy background, Catholic tendencies (thanks to her housekeeper and surrogate mother, Carmen), shiny
new
money, and murdered husband, was simply too…other, wrong, outside.

Even with all that, while she hadn’t been particularly accepted, she hadn’t been outright shunned. Yet. The looks Mrs. Morey was throwing at her suggested she soon would be, but she couldn’t imagine what horrid misstep she’d committed since earlier that day when she’d seen the old bat.

Until she noticed where Mrs. Morey’s eyes were focused. On Brynne’s hand, which was still looped through Dr. Oliver’s crooked elbow. Brynne let go and took a small step away from the doctor. Mrs. Morey’s smugly pursed lips had Brynne clenching her fists within the folds of her skirts. She had half a mind to wrap her arms around the good doctor and kiss him senseless right in front of dear old Mrs. Morey simply to prove that she wouldn’t be intimidated. But Brynne would hate for her mother-in-law to suffer any repercussions because of her. Besides, it might give Dr. Oliver the wrong idea, and he had enough of those about her already.

“Richard, what a delight to see you,” Cora said, coming toward the doctor with outstretched hands. She greeted him warmly and pulled him toward a sofa. “You must stay for some refreshment and tell us how you came to meet up with our dear Brynne.”

“Ah, that is a tale that must be told another time, I’m afraid. I must be getting back to the clinic. I simply wanted to make sure Mrs. Forrester made it home safely.”

Cora pouted prettily. “You work too hard, my boy. You need to learn to enjoy life a little more.”

“Ah, no worries, my dear Mrs. Forrester, I am always sure to enjoy myself whenever time permits.”

“Will we see you at the Cabot’s ball on Friday?” Mrs. Morey asked, fairly oozing sickly sweet charm.

“Certainly. I wouldn’t miss it.” Before Mrs. Morey could reply, Richard turned to Brynne. “And will you be attending, Mrs. Forrester?”

Brynne hesitated. She hadn’t planned on attending. She turned down most invitations. She preferred to stay home with Coraline than squeeze her body into an impossibly tight corset and subject herself to a room full of disapproval from which there was no escape.

Cora saved her from having to answer. “But of course, she’ll be attending.”

Brynne turned surprised eyes to her mother-in-law, who gave her a subtle wink. So much for politely declining.

“Excellent. I shall look forward to seeing you there.” He took Brynne’s hand and kissed it. “Until Friday, Mrs. Forrester.”

Brynne resisted the urge to pull away from him, disengaging herself as quickly as politeness allowed. It didn’t fool him, if the arrogant smirk on his lips was any indication. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Morey and excused himself.

The second the door closed behind him, Mrs. Morey pounced. “How in the world did you end up on the arm of one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston? Are you feeling a bit under the weather? Dr. Oliver is a wonderful physician, to be sure, even if his clinic is a bit of a distance from here. There are several very fine doctors who will come to you, after all, and you needn’t worry about them being indiscreet, no matter what is ailing you. No need to travel all the way to Dr. Oliver to keep your malady private. I do hope it’s not serious, my dear.”

Her tone held a false note of friendly interest, but Brynne could see right through her. Brynne forced a smile, biting back the retort that threatened to erupt. “I am perfectly healthy, thank you Mrs. Morey. I was merely at his clinic to volunteer my services. I stayed to help when a wall collapsed at a building nearby and some men were injured.”

“Oh my dear,” she said, holding a handkerchief to her nose as if Brynne had been wallowing in filth. “Quite noble of you, to be sure, but spending so much time around such…unfortunates mightn’t be the wisest course of action. Although, it certainly afforded you an opportunity to gain the attention of our dear doctor.”

Brynne wasn’t sure what the woman accused her of, but she resented the hell out of it. Cora must have sensed Brynne was reaching the limit of her patience because she jumped in before Brynne could respond.

“Well, I think it was splendid of you to help those poor injured men. I do hope it wasn’t too trying for you.”

“Not at all. I was glad to be of help.”

“And you’ll be seeing Dr. Oliver again?” Mrs. Morey asked, her expression almost daring Brynne to say yes.

“Yes. I’ve offered to help at the clinic on a daily basis.”

Mrs. Morey laughed. “Oh my dear, what in the world could you possibly do to help? Change bedpans? Mop floors?”

Brynne’s eyes narrowed further. “If that is what is asked of me, yes. I’ve certainly done far worse.”

Mrs. Morey’s amusement faded and she fixed Brynne with a withering glare. “I hope you really are doing this out of the goodness of your heart and not under any ill-conceived notions that you might gain Dr. Oliver’s notice or favor by playing the saint. He’s had his eye on my Elizabeth for several years now and I won’t have you ruining her chances with him.”

Ah. And there it was. Mrs. Morey didn’t want Brynne interfering with her plans for her odious daughter. Brynne very much doubted Dr. Oliver had any interest in Elizabeth Morey. She was as mean-spirited and obnoxious as her mother and was as ugly as a mud fence. Not that Brynne had any intention of trying to take the doctor’s attention away from anyone. She was only interested in working at the clinic as a way to do something meaningful with her days, not as a way to snare a new husband.

But she couldn’t resist torturing Mrs. Morey a tad. “Oh,” she said, feigning surprise, “I wasn’t aware that Richard was interested in any of the young ladies in town.” The use of his Christian name felt odd on her tongue and she’d never address him so to his face, but watching Mrs. Morey try to contain herself at Brynne’s informal use of his name was priceless. “We spoke quite extensively today and he never mentioned your daughter.”

Mrs. Morey sputtered and Brynne threw in one more barb for good measure. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Morey. I’m sure working in such close proximity with him every day will in no way interfere with whatever plans he may have in regards to your daughter.”

Cora sat on the sofa, her face as blank as she could make it, though Brynne could see how hard it was for her mother-in-law to keep herself together. Mrs. Morey excused herself very soon after, giving Brynne several parting glares as she flounced out of the house and Cora relaxed against the cushions with relief.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, I feared she’d never leave. I thought for sure she’d have a fit right here in our salon and we’d be forced to call your dear Richard back to see to her.”

Brynne’s lips twitched. “He is not my
dear
. Or my
anything
. I shouldn’t have needled her or led her to believe there was anything more between us than there is, but I couldn’t help myself. She is really worked up over this. Is he that great of a catch?”

Cora nodded. “Every momma of every unattached girl in the city is after the poor boy. He’s charming, utterly brilliant, and is connected to no fewer than five of the most influential families in the city by blood or marriage and by friendship or business to most of the rest of them. Throw in the fact that he has more money than a bank dipped in gold and a set of heavenly blue eyes that would make a woman twice my age swoon, and you’ve got yourself the most eligible bachelor in Boston.”

Brynne sighed. All she’d wanted to do was help at the clinic and ease a little boredom, and instead, she’d somehow managed to alienate herself even further from the group of societal mommas that could make or break her reputation. For herself, she didn’t care so much. But Lucy was getting older. At eighteen, she was certainly old enough to marry if she wished. The last thing Brynne wanted to do was ruin Lucy’s chances at being accepted. She had a hard enough road as it was, coming from the same rough-and-tumble background as Brynne. And Coraline didn’t need the stigma of a shunned mother following her for the rest of her days.

“As much as I hate to do anything that might make that old bag happy, I’ll make sure she knows I don’t have any designs on her darling doctor. In fact, the man is quite bothersome. I’ll only deal with him as much as necessary at the clinic. His virtue is quite safe from me.”

“If you say so, my dear,” Cora said. She dug out her needlepoint and started stitching, a smug smile barely concealed as she bowed her head to her task.

“Cora,” Brynne said, her voice full of warning.

“What?” Cora’s face practically shone with angelic innocence.

Brynne considered stopping the wild schemes and dreams she was sure were floating through her mother-in-law’s head, but knew it would do no good. She’d told the sweet woman a hundred times over that she had no intention of ever marrying again and Cora was equally as sure that she would. They’d come to a bit of an uneasy truce on the matter. However, Brynne had a sinking feeling that now that Cora had someone specific to set her sights on, the discussion might be revisited.

But for now, there was another subject that Brynne needed to discuss with Cora. One she’d been dreading. With the renovations of her home complete, it was time for her, Coraline, and Lucy to move into their own place. Leaving her in-laws was proving to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. Especially when she observed how happy Coraline was here. But it was time to stop beating the devil around the stump and get it over with.

Brynne was about to speak when the sound of tiny running feet and childish giggles rang through the corridor. Both Cora and Brynne turned toward the door, alight with anticipation.

Coraline flew into the room. “Momma!”

“Hello, my little chickabiddy.” Brynne scooped her up and nuzzled her neck. Coraline erupted in a shriek of giggles. Brynne watched her daughter laughing and her heart clenched. She snuggled into her, cuddling the little girl into her chest. No matter what sort of day she’d had, all it took was one moment in Coraline’s company and all was right with the world again.

“She looks so much like Jake,” Cora said, her voice pensive as she watched her granddaughter.

“She does,” Brynne agreed, smoothing Coraline’s black ringlets from her face. Coraline wiggled to get down and ran to her grandmother.

“Story! Story!”

“Why don’t we have Lucy read you a story,” Cora said, ringing her bell to summon one of the servants. “I think your Momma has something she needs to tell me.”

Brynne looked at her mother-in-law, surprised, not for the first time, at how astute the older woman was.

Beth, Brynne’s personal maid, came in and fetched Coraline, luring her away with promises of a sweet treat from the kitchens before she was taken to her aunt. Brynne smiled as they left. The whole household doted on her daughter. In fact, she and Coraline had been downright spoiled, fawned over at every turn by everyone in the Forrester’s household. They’d even welcomed Lucy with open arms. Which was another reason Brynne had delayed moving into her own home.

Still, after living under her in-laws’ roof for almost a year, Brynne longed for her own space again. She’d been used to being mistress of her own domain, taking care of not only her sisters, but a whole town.

She felt a sudden pang of homesickness for the Richardson ranch in California. The place where she’d grown up, met Jake, and fallen in love with him. She missed him so much sometimes she feared she’d go mad.