“Wa…wat…er.”
“Yes, but not too much.”
Oasis listened as Sister Madeline prepared her medication out of sight. The old nun would surely know what had happened to her. How else did she end up here? The nun returned and Oasis obediently followed the instruction of ‘open your mouth’, ‘swallow’ and ‘take tiny sips’. She moaned softly when the nun laid her back against the pillows.
“The medication will start to work in a short while. In the meantime, could you tell me how you feel?”
“My chest…it’s heavy.”
“I had to operate on you. The blade penetrated the upper part of your liver and I had to remove a part of it.”
Oasis stared at the nun. “You cut…”
“Only a very small part. Whoever stabbed you turned the blade for maximum effect, but it seemed they got interrupted before they could finish.”
Oasis closed her eyes. It would seem that she had come very close this time. “Do you know who?”
“No, but there are six of your men in the morgue and more injured are coming in as we speak.” The nun gently cupped Oasis’ cheek, prompting her to open her eyes. “But before you get any ideas, you’re in no shape to get out of this bed.”
Oasis nodded in acquiescence, but her thoughts were lingering on the six bodies in the morgue. She felt the bile rise inside her at the agony the families of the men must be going through right now. Six bodies and more injured, meant only one thing. The leadership of the underworld was being challenged. She had put these men at risk and their families would surely share the same sentiment. She turned her head to look at the nun.
“How long…how long before I can get out of here?”
“Not soon, milord. Opening that wound again would result in you bleeding to death.”
Frustration at the news, made her grip the sheet in a tight ball. She can’t lie here and do nothing. Not while her men were being slaughtered on the streets. She needed to talk to Caleb. They must find a way to contain this. “I need to talk to one of my men.”
The nun looked at her long and hard, before she nodded. “But only after you’ve rested awhile. If you want to heal faster, then adding tension to your injuries will have an adverse reaction.”
Irritation at the nun’s inability to realize the urgency of the situation, Oasis forgot about her injury and lifted herself on her elbows. She fell back with a loud groan and immediately felt a sheen of sweat pop out on her face. The pain was excruciating and for a moment she was unable to speak as she clenched her jaw to ride out the wave of agony. Sister Madeline was frowning at her, her eyes cold. “People are dying on the streets, Sister. I need to do something.”
“Well, I know what I’ll do next time you fail to follow my instructions,” the nun hissed. “I’ll lock you in here and forbid anyone from seeing you.”
“You can’t do that,” Oasis gasped. The thought of being cut off from the world while there was carnage on the street, was too much to imagine. What would be left of her people when she eventually left this place? And why in damnation was she suddenly feeling so weak and drowsy. She glared at the nun. “You…you drugged me.”
“Oh, don’t be such a hypocrite. We’re all capable of deception. Now sleep and I’ll have someone waiting for you when you wake up.”
Oasis was still glaring at the unrepentant nun when darkness swallowed her.
***
Tia thought her face would tear as a broad smile came over it when the small hand grabbed her finger. Her heart was near bursting from tenderness at the trust the tiny human bestowed on her. Sleepy blue eyes held hers as the small mouth sucked hungrily on the teat of the bottle. No matter how many times she had been doing this, Tia doubted she would ever get tired of it. She adored the babies in the ward and made it a point to stop by each and every one of them during her weekly visits. Discarded by their parents in the most horrid of places, the public knew to bring the infants to the hospice where they were taken care of before they were transported to an orphanage outside the city. She gently brushed the smooth cheek and chuckled when the infant girl let out a contented sigh before she resumed her mid-afternoon feeding.
“You would make a wonderful mother, Your Grace.” Tia looked up to find Sister Madeline standing a few feet away. The infant spat out the teat and gave the nun a toothless grin. Sister Madeline’s gaze softened as she approached them and gently ran her finger down the baby’s rosy cheek. “Greetings, my beautiful Aurora.”
Tia watched the interaction with interest. Sister Madeline, too, would’ve made a great mother. Just like herself. Maybe motherhood, no matter how fitting, was not for every woman. The fact that Aurora was here in her arms, was a good example that motherhood was not something all women found endearing.
“He woke up and is asking for someone to talk to.”
The sudden change of topic caused Tia’s head to snap up to meet Sister Madeline’s. “I don’t understand.”
“Lord Pope woke earlier and requested to speak to someone regarding the state of affairs on the streets.”
“And you thought to come to me? Why?” Tia gently slipped the teat of the bottle into Aurora’s mouth.
“He is reckless and I need someone with him who will make him understand the severity of his injury, even in the wake of what’s transpiring on the streets.” The nun fixed her with a strong gaze. “He needs someone who can keep a level head or else I will stop all visitation to his room until I’m convinced, he won’t risk further injury and will make a full recovery.”
Tia looked down at the now dozing face of the baby. Was she ready to face Pope? Better yet, was he ready to face her? His instruction was to reveal his identity were he to die. He didn’t die and now she knew who he was. A noble lord who moonlighted as a criminal underworld boss. But that was the least of their problems right now. The streets were running red with the blood of his men and maybe together they could find a way to end this before the bloodshed become any worse than it already was.
“I’ll meet with him.”
“Good. Now…”
A young nun appeared in the door of the room. “My apologies, Sister, but milady’s manservant was brought in for treatment.” Tia surged to her feet, jostling the dozing baby and causing her to cry. She planted a quick kiss to her cheek and handed her off to the young nun before she ran from the room.
There was no way that this senseless war was going to claim Burton too.
X
‘The Mouse and the Trap’
“I must say that that scar makes you look rather dashing.” Tia took a sip from her bandy, her eyes tracing the thin scar running from Burton’s left cheek to this jaw.
“If only Janine thought so, too,” Burton added with a chuckle. “To her it seems the knife had come too close to decapitating me.”
Tia rolled her eyes at that. No amount of words could describe the terror she had felt when she entered the emergency hall and saw Burton on a gurney, unconscious and bleeding from a head wound. It had taken three nuns and two orderlies to wrench her away from his body so they could begin treatment. Within an hour, Burton was back on his feet and assisting the orderlies with bringing in more beds from storage, in-between wheeling gurneys and transferring patients. She had stayed close to him for a while longer to ensure that he was truly and completely out of danger before she had returned to her duties.
“She will always worry, because she loves you.” As soon as the words were out, Tia realised what a hypocrite she truly was. Was Burton not doing the same? Worry about her because he loved her? Instead she called him out for being the worst kind of chauvinist when all he wanted to do was to keep her from harm’s way. He had proven his point nicely. He, himself, a strapping man, didn’t even last one day on the street without succumbing to the violence. How would she have fared? Tia grabbed Burton’s hand and held it gently between both of hers.
“I’m sorry for everything I said this morning.” She glanced at the clock and grimaced. It was already way
past midnight. She looked back at Burton and found him smiling at her. “What?”
“We were both right.” He brought her hand to his lips. “It’s not safe to be out there, but something needs to be done.” He sat back, the look in his eyes inquisitive. “I heard that Pope regained consciousness.”
Tia nodded as she sat back, too. They were sitting outside in the garden, even at this hour. After a full day spent indoors, the idea of willingly subjecting themselves to be enclosed by another set of walls, was too much. A moth’s wings beat against the glass cover of a nearby lantern in its quest to get closer and closer to the mesmerising flame. Tia could empathise with the moth. She, too, had followed the light of her conviction to bring about change in the lives of the needy, the voiceless. Now she found herself so close and yet still aching to be closer. Will there ever be an end to this cause? She couldn’t help but wonder what would be left of her when all this was over. Would she be satisfied with the solitary life of old age? Will she really be alone for the rest of her life? Depending on strangers to fill her days? The woman who had tried to save the world and ended up needing saving herself. She sighed deeply. The previous day had imparted enough morose moments and memories to last her a long time, she needn’t add to them.
“Did you see him?”
Pope. Another complication muddled by confusion and uncertainties. She had seen him and their meeting had not been what she had expected.
The single lantern was hopelessly inadequate for the room, except for creating ambiance. The room hadn’t changed much since her last visit the day prior. There was a bouquet of flowers in a plain glass jar and she wondered who brought it. The rich and famous didn’t come here for treatment unless they had something to hide. An unwanted pregnancy. An illegal duel, which had gone awry. A society wife whose husband’s cruel hand can’t be kept in check. No, she doubted any of the nobles had willing ventured this far from the manicured lanes of St. James’ Park to bring Pope the flowers. They surely didn’t even know that he was here. The marquess was well-known for his reclusive tendencies; a ruse Tia knew now, which gave him an opportunity to live as the Maverick. Tia’s eyes went to the bed and found dark eyes studying her. For a moment all they did was stare at each other.
“I never apologised for my crudeness the last time we met, milady.”
An unladylike snort escaped before Tia could restrain herself. Of all things, he wanted to apologise for something that had transpired more than a week ago. She walked over to the chair and took a seat. “All things considered, milord, it is good to see you awake.” She had watched him closely. He was still pale, but the air of vulnerability that had clung to him yesterday seemed to have disappeared now that he had regained consciousness. Sister Madeline was cautiously optimistic about his recovery, but had warned that an infection could ruin the progress made and still even prove to be fatal. His hair looked extremely dark against the white pillowcase, with a wayward curl falling over the broad forehead. Tia looked away lest she embarrassed them both by brushing it away from his face.
“I’m not sure if I should rejoice at your words or worry that they are simply a prelude to something worse.” A small smile played at the corner of full lips. “After all, you are not a woman to be trifled with.”
Tia sighed deeply and pointed to water pitcher. “Something to drink?” The dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’ve lost a lot of blood and Sister Madeline instructed us all to ensure that you keep sufficiently hydrated.”
“In that case, yes, I would like some water, milady.”
With a skill borne from three years of volunteering at the hospice, Tia prepared the drink and carried it over to the bed. She gently lifted his head and waited until he had taken a few sips. When she lowered his head to the pillow, she brushed the curl away from his face as if an afterthought. It had become difficult for her to concentrate with that unruly curl taunting her to do something about it. Back in her chair, she decided to broach the reason she was here.
“Sister Madeline said you wanted to talk to someone.”
Pope frowned. “Yes, one of my men.”
“Well, you have me.” She watched as Pope’s jaw jutted out stubbornly. It was truly surprising to see him acting almost like himself again, a day after his chest had been opened and a piece of his liver removed. It would seem that his stubbornness was at least good for something. “Something else, milord,” she began and saw his eyes narrow again. “In the light of knowing your true identity, what would you want me to call you?” Tia could see that she had surprised him. He searched her eyes for a long moment before his face turned bland.
“You haven’t called me anything before, why change now.”
“Well, then that part is settled. And the other?”
“I said I wanted to see one of my men,” he said gruffly.
“Let me get this straight, milord, is it my gender that makes me an unsuitable candidate? Because I can tell you now that there is relatively little that men can do that a woman cannot.” Did she imagined it, or did she really see a flash of agreement on his face? When she looked more closely, it was to find his expression bland again. “On the other hand, while you’re wasting time deciding, the general ward and the morgue is filling up with your men.”
The flash of pain that crossed his face was not a play of shadows from the nearby flame. He seemed to truly care for his men. Tia moved to the door and closed it. Pope took a few more moments before he spoke, his voice was low and quiet although the instructions he gave were harsh and made cold fear trickle down her spine. It was unsettling looking into the handsome face of Lord Benedict Pope, but hear the chilling orders of The Maverick spilling from his lips. With her orders received, Tia rose and walked to the door. She turned to face The Maverick, yes, The Maverick, because she refused to associate Benedict Pope with the flint-eyed man in the bed. Maybe with time, the switch would become easier to accept.
“There is still a lot that remains unsaid between the two of us. One day, when all this is behind us, I will demand answers and I expect you to give them to me.” She left the room and hopefully the disturbing feelings the last few minutes had generated within her.
“What did he say? Did you talk about his…?” Burton stopped speaking? “I’m sure you did. What did he have to say for himself?”
“We didn’t talk about that, but he told me what he wanted us to do while he is incapacitated.”
Burton blinked. “What does he want?”
Tia finished her brandy. “We need to find a man named Caleb. He’s the second in command.” She looked around before she leaned closer to Burton. “He wants us to find out who is leading the uprising.”
“And this Caleb fellow will know?”
Tia shrugged, her gaze intense. “I’m not sure, but we’ll find out tomorrow.” She searched Burton’s face. “The three of us.” Please, don’t say no. She waited as Burton digested the news.
“We need to turn in,” Burton said after a while and rose to his full six-and-a-half-foot height. “We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”
Tia grinned as she rose and hooking her arm around his slim waist, followed him into the house.
***
“Stop fidgeting with it.” Sister Madeline slapped the hand away.
“But I want to see it.”
“No, the risk of infection is too high. If you are so set on seeing the wound, I’ll have one of the sisters bring you a mirror.” She applied a dollop of ointment around the wound and began the process of reapplying fresh bandages. Oasis lay quietly as she watched the nun working. The woman looked tired and Oasis couldn’t help but feel guilty for her part in all this. If she had not taken over the underworld, she wouldn’t have been stabbed and a new gangland war would not be raging through the slums now, filling up the beds in the hospice.
“I’m sorry for all this, Sister.” Bloodshot blue eyes met hers, a curious look in them. “If I had respected the status quo, none of this would’ve happened.”
“And do you think you would’ve been able to live with yourself, had you not intervened?”
Oasis grinned. The old nun knew her too well. “I’m not sure.”
“Good, then don’t apologise for something that was destined to happen. I’m going to lift you up so I can thread the bandage behind your back. It will hurt some.”
Some, Oasis thought as she clenched her jaw to stop herself from groaning at the pain. It felt as if she had been stabbed in the chest with a hot poker. The pain was agonising. When Sister Madeline helped her to lay back down again, she wiped at the fine sheen of sweat on Oasis’ brow.
“Let’s not do this again soon,” she murmured as she licked suddenly dry lips. She drank eagerly from the cup of water that was pressed to her lips.
“I’m sorry, but as you know, it’s not only the wound that needs bandaging.” Oasis knew what she was referring to. From the moment she had hit puberty and her breasts had made an unwelcome appearance, she had begged her mother to help her bind them. Soon after Sister Madeline had treated her bullet wound, Oasis had tried to raise the subject of her true sex with the nun. A quiet ‘It’s none of my business from the nun, had closed the topic and it had not been up for discussion until a few weeks ago when Sister Madeline had tried to warn Oasis off Tia.
“Thank you, Sister.”
“You’re most welcome, milord.” Oasis could swear there was a twinkle in the blue eyes. “Maybe it would serve us both well, if you would refrain from stopping sharp or other penetrating projectiles with your body in the future.” The nun began to swirl a white powder in a glass of water. “I’m happy with the way your wound is healing, but I need to emphasise again that tension and unnecessary movements could hamper the progress. Now,” she held out the glass. “something for the pain.”
“Will it make me drowsy?”
“Yes. Sleep is nature’s healing balm.”
Worlds Apart Page 14