"Like this?"
Blake could not help smiling slightly. "Yes, exactly. But your hands are so tiny."
"I'm stronger than I look. Besides, they warmed yours, didn't they?"
"They most certainly did. Thank you."
"Thank you for coming along and stopping to help us. We'd have died for certain by now if it hadn't been for you."
"Thank me later, Belle, when we're sitting around a nice warm fire. For now, get both hands in a good strong grip."
She nodded. "Ready."
He pulled the leg hard and she heard a small clicking sound. "I'll hold the branches. Use one of the shirts as a wadding around the leg, and start to wind the strips around and tie them off. I'll pick up the leg to help you get around when you wrap."
"All right, but tell me if I've done it correctly."
"Good. Very good," he praised sincerely. "You must have nursed people before."
"Mother and Father, yes," Arabella said, trying not to sniff.
He caught her sad look, however, and said simply, "I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"Someone taught you well."
"My brother. He has many professional friends, doctors, lawyers, soldiers..."
Blake was only half-listening to her, all of his mind occupied on not falling asleep, and what he was going to do if he had to spend the night in his carriage with three injured people.
The storm was still raging, and he could feel it getting colder. Darkness had fallen rapidly, and he was aware that they were obstructing the road and had no lamps on. With visibility being so poor, any vehicle on the road could plow right into them before they even knew they were there.
He watched her work, lifting the leg every so often, and said, "If you don't mind, to keep our minds of our troubles, can we pray?"
She stared at him in surprise. "Is it that bad?" she asked quietly.
"No, not yet. But I won't lie to you, Belle. It's pretty dire. I hope to forestall disaster by praying that things don't get any worse. And we need to stay awake. It's growing colder every minute."
She nodded. "I understand. It's a good idea."
"Our Father, who art in Heaven…" he began.
They prayed together, stopping only when he had to give her instructions.
"We're going to have to splint that arm over his coat. I don't dare remove his clothes with the cold setting in like this."
"All right. What should I do?"
"The same as before, only this time hold him steady by the upper arm. The shoulder is dislocated. We'll set the arm first, though. I'm afraid if we gave this part of the arm a good jerk to set it, the shoulder might pop out again."
"I understand. You're a very good doctor. Very patient and kind."
He looked away from her remarkable blue-violet eyes, suddenly shy, though he had not felt that emotion since he had been about twenty.
She gripped the upper arm and he set the bone with a pop. She wadded and wrapped it carefully while he held it steady. Her fingers brushed his on occasion.
Everywhere Belle touched him, he seemed to go on fire. By the time they finished the arm and came to the end of yet another prayer, Blake was feeling more like his old self. Perhaps too good to be so near this young beauty.
"What next?" she asked, gazing at him expectantly.
He dragged his attention away from her lovely mouth and took a quick survey of the shoulder with his fingers.
"We have to try to pull the upper arm and push the joint back in the socket. Normally I would just stick my foot in his armpit and tug, but I can't do that without damaging the arm. How hard can you pull?"
"I'm pretty strong. But maybe you should pull and I push?"
"Tug on my arm."
She gave him a demonstration.
He nodded and looked around. "Here, get between the seats again, and brace one foot against the corner. If that doesn't work, we can try it the other way."
He shrugged off the blanket and jackets from his shoulders and wrapped one blanket around her, brushing a stray strand of hair which had fallen into her eyes out of the way.
He helped her sit in the confined space and gave her back the hot water bottle.
Then he knelt down. "All right. We're going to try you pull, and I push. Ready? Good firm grip, and pull."
The bone didn't go in, but Blake said, "That was good. Just a bit more and then we need to bind it up. Ready?"
"Yes."
She tugged with all her might. This time they got the bone back in the socket with a loud click. Blake sat Mr. Greengage up and held him in place while she wrapped the shoulder and made him a makeshift sling to support it. While they worked they prayed once more, until at last he said, "There. Perfect. If you ever want a job or to volunteer in my clinic, just say so."
She grinned. "Thanks for the offer."
He sighed, and hated the unworthy impulse which caused him to pursue his next line of questioning.
"Now, Belle, I'm a doctor, so you need to tell me the truth. Are you really not hurt anywhere else except your ribs?"
"No, just there. They're better now that I'm not being crushed."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine. I trust you. I would tell you if there was something wrong."
"You probably just bruised your ribs against your stays."
She shook her head. "Fortunately I'm not wearing any. If I had I think I would have split my sides for sure."
He wasn't sure why the thought of her not wearing a corset was such a thrill to him, but he could feel himself growing heated again. It had obviously been too long since he had had any outlet for his desires…
But it was only natural. The young woman was so incredibly beautiful, he would have wondered if he hadn't been interested in her.
"And you're sure you're not married or, um-"
"No, I told you we aren't- I'm not- Drat this." She scowled. "What business is it of yours if I were?"
Because he felt a raging jealousy...
"Because a potential miscarriage would be a dangerous thing, of course. As a doctor I need to consider every eventuality."
"You're right," she conceded with a blush. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice like that."
"Quite all right. I'm told I ask too many direct questions," Blake said, hating the way she was silently withdrawing from him into shyness though she had not moved a muscle.
"I do beg your pardon if I shocked or embarrassed you. In our polite society we never discuss such things."
She shrugged. "No, but perhaps we should. Ignorance can kill, after all."
He looked at her in surprise and nodded. "That's very true. It's what I tell my patients when I try to educate them."
"Do you want to examine me?"
He shook his head. It was far too risky on every level.
"I think I'll just wrap you in flannel for now and get us out of here."
She stood up with his assistance and held up her arms as he wrapped the strips around her. "Like a mummy," she said with a small smile.
Once again she had surprised him with her wit and intelligence. "Only very much alive, and going to stay that way."
He admired her ample breasts, slender waist, gently flared hips, her tasteful dark blue merino wool gown. She was lovely in every respect, a woman one could be justly proud of.
She looked around her as he worked. "So tell me, how do you propose getting us both out of here? I mean, my ribs are sore, but I can still climb. What about Mr. Greengage?"
"It's not going to be easy. The only thing I can think of is to hack off the top of the coach to lift him out. We have the axe, we need firewood, and we can't run the risk of hauling him up through the door."
"No, you're right. We can't. Where's the axe?"
"On top." He reached up to get it. "I'm going to help you out, and then I can work on hacking the roof off."
"I can help. I've chopped firewood."
"There's not much room to swing an axe in, though, if you're still he
re."
"Any other axe?"
He shrugged. "There's a shovel outside. I didn't check the tools in this coach."
"Lift me up. I'll see if I can find one, and then get started."
"Are you sure? It's brutally cold out there," he said with a frown.
"I know. But the sooner we get him out of here, the sooner we can all get warm in your carriage, build a fire, have something to eat, and wait for help."
She said it so positively that he nodded. "All right, Belle, up you get. If you can't find the axe or the shovel, just get into my vehicle with James."
"I can't leave you on your own," she protested.
He stared at her determined face for a moment, and resisted the urge to kiss her soft lips. "I'll shout if I need anything."
"I'll be nearby, I promise."
He cupped his two hands and she placed her booted foot into them.
Arabella felt herself being raised aloft as if she were as light as a butterfly. Her ribs ached as she braced her arms on either side of her and pushed upwards. "Any higher?"
He lifted her a few more inches, and then her foot was on his shoulder.
"I'm up. I'll see you in a minute."
She smiled down at him, and Blake's heart turned over. Even bruised and battered by the accident, Belle was the most winsome creature he had ever met.
CHAPTER SIX
As soon as Belle was gone, Blake swung the axe into the carriage roof. After several blows he broke through to the other end. He flung off all of his coverings and great coat and rained blow after blow on the roof until a sizable hole had opened.
Belle soon joined him on the other side with the tools from the wrecked coach. Together they made a hole big enough to drag Mr. Greengage through.
Apart from a couple of groans when they had set his broken bones, there was still no sign of life, but they could only hope that all would be well.
"Hold his head. That's right. Watch the right shoulder." The snow swirled around as Blake crawled out of the hole himself and took the other shoulder.
"I'll get his feet," she offered.
They managed to get him over to the other carriage. James the postillion was able to help maneuver the prone body into the warmth of the vehicle.
"Belle and I need to go back for all of the wood and bottles and blankets," Blake said quickly. "Climb over him and tuck yourself in the far corner, with him next to you in the middle. We'll be back in five minutes."
Within that time they cleaned out the essential contents of the mail coach, the food, footwarmers, hot water bottles, traveling rugs and his valises.
Finally, he got their luggage out of the boot and said to Belle, "Get inside, find my tinder box in one of those valises, and light the lamps on my carriage. Then bring it back here."
He went back and chopped more wood, which he brought back to the carriage. He opened the lids of the four footwarmers, emptied the ashes, and piled each to the top with wood. He came back a short time later with a small bottle of lamp oil. He doused the contents of each of the metal footwarmers with the oil, and struck the tinderbox.
The small blazes gave off a good deal of heat and light for a time. When the blazes had subsided a bit, he put the covers back on and put the hot waterbottles on top of them to reheat them.
Belle went back to the mail coach to chop more wood while Blake hacked the branches he had brought into manageably sized pieces. He stacked them in the luggage rack overhead inside the carriage.
She came back with a couple of more armfuls of the roof of the coach. Once they were loaded inside he put his hand on her shoulder.
"That's enough now. Up you get. Everyone inside on the same seat, you in between Mr. Greengage and myself."
She nodded and got in. She knew he had given her the warmest place, sandwiched in between the two men. She ought to have felt shy, but somehow being with the handsome doctor seemed the most natural thing in the world.
They squeezed in on the seat all together, and for a time they enjoyed the relative warmth of the coach with the four blazes going and soon, the hot water bottles sandwiched in between them.
"I propose food next," Blake said quietly.
"I'll get it. Have a look at Mr. Greengage. Surely he should be showing some signs of coming to by now?"
He shrugged. "It's hard to tell with a head injury. But I hope he will soon. Otherwise I'm afraid the prognosis won't be very good."
There was a small knife in her bag, and some pats of butter. She made four sandwiches, and set one aside in case the sleeping man should wake, though she doubted the wisdom of him being allowed to eat anything. Still, it was a sign of respect that they shared everything together in their wretched plight.
She opened Mr. Greengage's bag and peered in. She made up sandwiches from the supplies as well, beef and cold chicken, as well, four of each, but put them back in the cotton bag in case, as she had begun to suspect, they might have to remain in the coach all night.
Then she looked at the basket that James had explored, and no doubt nibbled from. Venison pie, pasties, some packets of hunting chocolate, a rich fruit cake, and some marzipan were just a few of the delicacies.
Blake looked at her surprised and delighted face. "Might as well have it now. Make it a bit of a picnic."
They fell upon the makeshift feast hungrily. Blake allowed them all one sip of brandy and then passed around the ginger beer. When the bottle was empty he stepped outside and filled it full of snow, before putting it to melt on one of the footwarmers.
When the snow had melted he passed it around. "The cold can really dry you out. Drink up."
"Easy for you to say," Arabella muttered under her breath.
"I understand. You will be careful when you go outside, won't you. Behind the coach is the nearest place so you don't get lost."
"You are a most direct and forthright man," she remarked with a blush.
He avoided her embarrassed gaze. "Just a practical one. I don't want any of us displaying false modesty and wandering off into the middle of a blizzard, now do I?"
"No, I suppose not."
"Tell me, where was the last village you pulled through?"
"It was about seven miles back. Rede Village," James said through a mouthful of beef and cheese.
"What sort?"
"Pretty humble by the looks of things. One inn, not one we would stop at for anything other than picking up and setting down passengers."
"I have to guess that John won't be here for some time. We need to get some rest. The last village I passed through is seven miles the other way. However you look at it, we'll have a fairly cold and rough journey to get to the safety and warmth of an inn through all this snow. We need to keep up our strength. Everyone finish eating, and then we have a nap."
They did as he suggested quite gladly, for they were worn out with the shocks of the day, and knew their ordeal was still nowhere near its end. She made herself as comfortable as she could, leaning into the space between Blake's arm and chest.
He reached up his other hand to tuck the blanket around her more securely, and press her head onto his shoulder. "Sleep now."
He linked his fingers loosely with hers. She was surprised to find, when she heard a small groan beside her some time later, that she had indeed slept soundly.
Blake was awake and alert, his hand now across her body to check on his patient.
Belle got up to move to the other side of the carriage. Blake threw off the blanket and gave it to her as he spoke quietly with Mr. Greengage and asked him where it hurt.
"All over," the younger man said in a daze.
"How is your head?"
"Throbbing."
He reached in his bag and gave him something for the pain, and a small sip of water. "I am going to keep an eye on you for a while. If you can hold down that water, we can let you have a bit more."
He nodded, drank, and sat back again with a sigh. "Are you well, Miss?"
"Not so bad, Mr. Greengage. We've been m
ost fortunate. Had it not been for Dr. Sanderson here, we would have been in very dire straits indeed."
"I can well imagine," he sighed. "My poor uncle, though. He will not get to see me now, I fear. Nor your brother see you either."
Arabella's face fell. All the hours that had ticked past! Peter would be leaving for India soon, and here she was snowed in somewhere in the middle of Berkshire. How was she ever going to get him to change his mind about handing over her guardianship to a nameless, faceless stranger now?
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 65