By Love Unveiled Read Online Free Page B

floor.
    “Out, out, before you murder him!” She pushed futilely at the stubborn old fool, sickened by the smell of scorched flesh.
    “Listen to the woman,” Lord Falkham ground out. “For God’s sake, Will, get him out of here!”
    William murmured something to the old man, and the servant left, grumbling as he went.
    “I hope you haven’t come to torture me more,” the earl growled. “The sword wound hurts less than the old man’s ministrations.”
    “I can well believe it.” One look at his red and swollen skin made her sick. She couldn’t wish such pain on even her worst enemy.
    Instantly she drew an ointment from her pouch and smoothed it over the burn. He grimaced.
    “Forgive me, my lord, but this should make it feel better shortly.”
    She turned her attention to his wound. Someone had removed his breeches, and a sheet had been draped over his groin and left leg, leaving only his right thigh exposed. An ugly laceration gaped open close to where his leg joined his hip.
    “The wound is serious,” she said, trying to keep her voice emotionless. He didn’t need her falling apart justnow. “But at least the sword went cleanly through. It doesn’t seem to have severed the muscle, so it should heal well enough. Just be grateful the men didn’t carry pistols.”
    “One of them did,” Lord Falkham said through clenched teeth. “But he was a poor shot, so I was able to wrest it from him. Unfortunately, he was a better swordsman than I expected.”
    William spoke behind her. “And you were a better one than he expected, eh, m’lord?”
    Lord Falkham’s clear gray eyes clouded. “I suppose I was.”
    Marianne tried to ignore the ripple of horror that washed over her. After all, Mr. Tibbett had said that the earl had served as a soldier abroad. And he’d had the right to defend himself against attack.
    Moving to the basin of water someone had placed nearby, she wet a clean linen cloth and began to wash the wound. The earl’s tight-lipped, rigid stance told her that every touch caused him pain, but she couldn’t help that. Father had believed that cleaning a wound helped it heal, so clean it she would, scrubbing away the dried blood and bits of fabric that clogged it.
    “Do highwaymen often ride the roads hereabouts these days?” William asked her while watching her work.
    “This is the first I’ve heard of,” she said, concentrating on her task.
    “Those were no highwaymen,” the earl bit out.
    William glanced at his master. “You think Tearle’s behind it?”
    “Of course. Aside from the fact that he hates that I’ve regained the manor—and the title—he fears what I could do to him if it weren’t for . . .”
    He trailed off to glance at her veiled face, for she’d unconsciously stopped her movements to listen.
    Hastily she returned to cleansing the wound. “Have you told the constable of the attack?”
    “No reason,” William replied. “His lordship left both men lying in the glade with their bellies open.”
    “That’s enough, Will!” Lord Falkham said sharply. She didn’t miss the meaningful glance he gave his servant. “There’s no need for the young woman to hear about such matters.”
    “I agree.” Her stomach churned at the image William’s words evoked, soldier or no soldier. “I abhor killing.”
    “Would you have preferred I let them murder me instead?” Lord Falkham snapped.
    “Of course not, but no man’s death should ever be discussed casually.”
    A glint of something that looked like a conscience flickered in his eyes. “I’m afraid Will and I have become far too accustomed to killing in the past few years. We saw many battles with the Duke of York.”
    “I can tell.” Thin scars marred his skin everywhere. The Duke of York’s men had served the French and then the Spanish armies, winning honor and fame. Hard to believe that the earl had been one of those.
    But it did explain why he scarcely flinched as she cleansed his wound, why he seemed