Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman by Lorraine Heath Page B

mercy.”
    “You’re all the mercy I need.”
    Ainsley scoffed. “You never miss an opportunity for a bit of flirtation, even in a situation such as this.”
    Her heart that had begun an erratic patter with Stephen’s words settled into calm with Ainsley’s. Of course, Stephen would use any means to get her to do his bidding. Had he not enticed her into looking the other way when he’d wanted to sneak out of the Barrack Hospital for a short walk—in spite of the physician’s orders that he was not to leave his bed? Had he not given her a devilish wink that had caused her to slip him a flask of spirits? She’d have been summarily dismissed if Miss N had discovered her with the contraband. He’d made the simplest of gestures seem more daring.
    “She’s quite right, Major. I’ll be doing a good bit of digging around in there.”
    “Please,” she pleaded again, determined that she would be the one to prevail.
    Clutching her hand, Stephen pulled her down, his voice rough and urgent. “Only if you’ll ensure that he doesn’t cut off my leg. Promise me.”
    “I don’t think it’ll come to that, but the physician will know best.”
    “I’ll go bloody well mad if I lose anything else. Promise me.”
    The desperation in his voice tore at her heart. How many promises had she made and not been able to keep? They drove her mad, caused nightmares to visit often when she slept. But he didn’t know what he asked of her or he’d have not asked. She was fairly confident of that deduction. They were practically strangers, their time together far too short. So short that he didn’t seem to remember the night that they’d spent together. But she’d never forget what she’d seen of the fierceness in him when there was little he could do to prevent harm from being inflicted on another. He was courageous, strong, unyielding in his convictions. She’d witnessed his compassion when he’d reassured more than one dying soldier that he’d not let his brothers in arms down so the man could leave this world in peace.
    He’d lied in order to bring comfort. She could do the same. “I promise.”
    Leaning forward and kissing his brow seemed the most natural thing in the world. Just as protecting his son had been. She couldn’t explain the yearning in her heart for this man, but it was there, fervent and powerful. It had driven her to Paris, then to London, and finally to this place at his bedside.
    She felt the fevered heat of his skin against her lips, and she prayed they were not too late. That his leg could be saved. That he could be saved.
    “Will you assist me, Miss Dawson?” the physician asked.
    Dread coursed through her. She didn’t regret a single moment of tending to the sick and wounded, but it had taken more courage than she’d ever known she possessed to assist with the surgeries. Still, she gathered her resolve around her and straightened. “Yes, of course. I shall need to wash my hands. I must insist you do the same.”
    He brought himself up like a rooster whose feathers had been ruffled. It wouldn’t do for him to be out of sorts when he began hacking away. She needed him focused on his chore, not his pride, and so she explained calmly and quietly, “Miss Nightingale was convinced that cleanliness saved lives. It is next to godliness, after all.”
    He harrumphed. “Yes, of course. Quite right.”
    She’d not thrown out the name of her mentor lightly. She was well aware that ever since an engraving of Florence Nightingale holding a lamp had appeared in the London Illustrated News , she was considered a saint. Mercy suspected she could tell the doctor that Miss Nightingale advised jumping out a window before surgery and he would proceed to do exactly that.
    Ainsley ordered the servants to bring up warm water and cloths. Mercy fought off the images of the wards crowded with men that sought to distract her from her purpose. She’d felt a sense of relief when she’d left Scutari. She knew she’d done