repair the next.
He’d helped to treat fractures this bad, knew what the inevitable outcome must be, although his mind recoiled from it.
“Oh, God.” He sagged back against the pillows.
“Don’t worry.” Jane soothed. “Ariane will take care of you.”
“The devil she will. Fetch me a doctor. Are there no men on this bloody island?”
Ariane folded her arms across her bosom. “None that will be of any use to you. Most of them are like my son, still in tailclouts.”
“Please, monsieur.” Jane tried to ease his fingers awayfrom his injured arm. “The lady is very skilled. She will have that bone set in a trice.”
Xavier shrank away from her, snarling. “Set? Do you take me for a blasted fool? I have seen this kind of break before. I know that my arm is going to have to be … to be …
amputated.”
There. He’d managed to say the dread word, acknowledged it aloud.
Ariane’s brows shot upward. “You seem in quite a hurry to part company with your arm, monsieur.”
“Because I have no other choice.”
“I admit it may come to that. But I have had great success setting even worse fractures than yours. If you would just allow me to try—”
“No. Keep your damned witchery to yourself.”
“That’s enough,” Jane cried. She eyed Xavier sternly. “The lady wants to help, so stop behaving like—like a recalcitrant child.”
Color rose high in Jane’s cheeks. So his calm mermaid did possess a bit of a temper. Under other circumstances, Xavier might have found it amusing, even rather adorable. But he focused on Ariane’s stony countenance.
“Somehow I doubt that the lady is all that eager to render me her aid.”
Ariane lifted her chin proudly. “I am the daughter of Evangeline Cheney. My mother was a gifted healer and she taught me all her skills, all her wisdom, to help those in need, whoever they might be.”
“Well, I am the son of Marguerite de Maitland, a most accomplished courtesan and she taught me to be wary of witches.”
Xavier tried to sneer, but his lips twisted into a pained grimace. “Of course you have no need to ask who my father was because you have already worked that out. In fact, my mother had me christened for him. Louis Xavier Cheney.”
He tossed out the name as if he were flinging down a gauntlet and it had the desired effect.
Angry color flared in Ariane’s cheeks. “That—that woman dared give you my father’s name. You are a bastard. You have no right!”
“So I have been told. Perhaps now that you know all that, you are not quite so eager to lay your healing hands upon me,
sister.”
Ariane compressed her lips together and for a moment he thought she would storm out of the room. Then she issued a deep sigh.
“Your mother Marguerite brought a great deal of misery to my family, robbed my mother’s final days of all happiness and contentment. But it matters not to me what your name is or if you are the spawn of Satan. I am a healer and I believe I can help you.”
Jane captured his left hand between hers, adding her own plea. “Monsieur, you strike me as a man used to being his own master, issuing commands. I realize how hard it must be for you to consign yourself to the care of a woman. But I have seen Ariane perform so many miracles. You can trust her, I promise you.”
Xavier’s gaze shifted belligerently from Ariane’s stern face to Jane’s softer one. He didn’t know how far he trusted the Lady of Faire Isle, but he was surprised to feel himself yielding to Jane’s calm persuasion. Perhaps because he hadnever seen a woman’s face so entirely without guile. Perhaps it was because her eyes swam with genuine concern. But perhaps it was simply because he had no other damned choice.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he growled at Ariane. “Go fetch your saw or blade or whatever you are planning to hack me apart with and get some of your own back.”
“Fine. Jane, will you please cut away his shirt, while I go retrieve my weapon of choice.” Ariane
He’d helped to treat fractures this bad, knew what the inevitable outcome must be, although his mind recoiled from it.
“Oh, God.” He sagged back against the pillows.
“Don’t worry.” Jane soothed. “Ariane will take care of you.”
“The devil she will. Fetch me a doctor. Are there no men on this bloody island?”
Ariane folded her arms across her bosom. “None that will be of any use to you. Most of them are like my son, still in tailclouts.”
“Please, monsieur.” Jane tried to ease his fingers awayfrom his injured arm. “The lady is very skilled. She will have that bone set in a trice.”
Xavier shrank away from her, snarling. “Set? Do you take me for a blasted fool? I have seen this kind of break before. I know that my arm is going to have to be … to be …
amputated.”
There. He’d managed to say the dread word, acknowledged it aloud.
Ariane’s brows shot upward. “You seem in quite a hurry to part company with your arm, monsieur.”
“Because I have no other choice.”
“I admit it may come to that. But I have had great success setting even worse fractures than yours. If you would just allow me to try—”
“No. Keep your damned witchery to yourself.”
“That’s enough,” Jane cried. She eyed Xavier sternly. “The lady wants to help, so stop behaving like—like a recalcitrant child.”
Color rose high in Jane’s cheeks. So his calm mermaid did possess a bit of a temper. Under other circumstances, Xavier might have found it amusing, even rather adorable. But he focused on Ariane’s stony countenance.
“Somehow I doubt that the lady is all that eager to render me her aid.”
Ariane lifted her chin proudly. “I am the daughter of Evangeline Cheney. My mother was a gifted healer and she taught me all her skills, all her wisdom, to help those in need, whoever they might be.”
“Well, I am the son of Marguerite de Maitland, a most accomplished courtesan and she taught me to be wary of witches.”
Xavier tried to sneer, but his lips twisted into a pained grimace. “Of course you have no need to ask who my father was because you have already worked that out. In fact, my mother had me christened for him. Louis Xavier Cheney.”
He tossed out the name as if he were flinging down a gauntlet and it had the desired effect.
Angry color flared in Ariane’s cheeks. “That—that woman dared give you my father’s name. You are a bastard. You have no right!”
“So I have been told. Perhaps now that you know all that, you are not quite so eager to lay your healing hands upon me,
sister.”
Ariane compressed her lips together and for a moment he thought she would storm out of the room. Then she issued a deep sigh.
“Your mother Marguerite brought a great deal of misery to my family, robbed my mother’s final days of all happiness and contentment. But it matters not to me what your name is or if you are the spawn of Satan. I am a healer and I believe I can help you.”
Jane captured his left hand between hers, adding her own plea. “Monsieur, you strike me as a man used to being his own master, issuing commands. I realize how hard it must be for you to consign yourself to the care of a woman. But I have seen Ariane perform so many miracles. You can trust her, I promise you.”
Xavier’s gaze shifted belligerently from Ariane’s stern face to Jane’s softer one. He didn’t know how far he trusted the Lady of Faire Isle, but he was surprised to feel himself yielding to Jane’s calm persuasion. Perhaps because he hadnever seen a woman’s face so entirely without guile. Perhaps it was because her eyes swam with genuine concern. But perhaps it was simply because he had no other damned choice.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he growled at Ariane. “Go fetch your saw or blade or whatever you are planning to hack me apart with and get some of your own back.”
“Fine. Jane, will you please cut away his shirt, while I go retrieve my weapon of choice.” Ariane
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