The tending physician was a middle-aged man named Francis McQuerin. He was a military doctor who was a dear friend of Lawrence Bennett. Needless to say Dr. McQuerin saw through the masks these gentlemen wore and he was definitely not new to Nick’s risk taking. 

“I did tell you to stay put, Mr. Rochford,” he scolded, pulling bloody gloves off his hands. “And you had to go the extra mile to defy my mandate. Did I fail to mention last night that one or more of your vital organs might have been pierced by the bullet?”

By the time the procedure was completed, Nick couldn’t find it in him to argue or disagree with anybody, most of all, his doctor. Nicholas coughed then winced at the unexpected pain from the injury. He remained as still as possible, allowing the assistant to finish wrapping the bandage around his middle section. The doctor confirmed that his liver was indeed injured, but he need not worry because if it were fatal Nicholas would already be dead. The thought was not reassuring, and Nick was certain the doctor didn’t mean for it to be reassuring, especially after he referred to Nick’s bloody clothing which were at the foot of the bed.

“I believe this is not your first time being shot at?”

“No doctor,” he answered truthfully, though weakly. “However, I can say that this is the most painful injury I had so far.” 

The doctor smirked and looked his patient down from his spectacles. “I do hope you learn something from this ordeal, Mr. Rochford. The blood you carelessly threw away is a significant amount. Had you not conceded to return to the manor, I believe you shall die by your own foolishness alone come nightfall.” 

He just nodded, like an obedient schoolboy, as Dr. McQuerin’s assistant helped him to lie down on the bed. “Drink this,” the doctor instructed and Nick did as was told. It was one of the rare moments when such obedience was observed from Nicholas, but then every ounce of energy seemed to have left his body after enduring the procedure. His remaining strength was wasted by listening to the doctor lecturing him about his health and decisions. 

“I will now leave you and fetch whoever wanted to see you,” he said after his assistant and he finished cleaning up the room. Clean sheets were pulled up to his chest, covering his unclothed skin, except for his arms.

“Would you please ask my father to come in?”

The doctor nodded before he was out of Nick’s sight. He needed to talk to Bennett about what to do next, his plans and where he had scribbled them down, who were the people to talk to, and where to find these people. There had to be someone to do the job while he was restricted by the damned injury. Nick was therefore both annoyed and pleased when it was Claire who sat beside the bed and not Lawrence Bennett. He was annoyed because he bloody needed to speak with Bennett. On the other hand, he was pleased to see his wife loom over him with concern on her face. He may not love the woman, and she may not love him, but she did care for his well-being. That was enough for now. 

He smiled weakly at her, though he reached out and pushed some stray strands of hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t hurt as much. Do not worry over me,” he lied. As he placed his hand down to the bed, she reached out and captured it in hers. 

[i] “Nick, you need proper rest and a bed to yourself. I would be moving around far too much if I stayed here, you know that. Everyone will understand if I stay in a guest bedroom tonight, which I plan on doing. I just wanted to let you know in case you wake up in the middle of the night. I-“ [/i] 

The smile slowly vanished from his face. He was feeling groggy, but he fought against the strong urge to just shut his eyes and fall asleep. He had to hear what she was proposing. 

[i] “I think it best if we leave each other be through the night until morning. Every night. Time apart will help the days together become easier to cope with, don’t you agree?”[/i]

“Every night?” he repeated, though she quickly changed the topic and asked him what she could do for him. Nick shook his head, his brown hair was ruffled and somewhat wet. “If that is what you want, Claire,” he answered sounding defeated. Even an argument with Claire was not enough motivation. He looked up at her emerald eyes. “I cannot blame you for not liking me. I have led you on and then left you alone for two weeks. Two weeks without a word or a note. And then when I finally show my face to you, I start saying the most foolish of things.” He closed his hand over her fingers and tightened his hold. “I am sorry. I apologize for my behavior, and more than that I’m sorry that you had to marry me. But one day – someday – I will make it up to you.” 

Nick used his elbows to push his body up from the bed. He bit back a wince when his side protested, but pushed onward until he was sitting. His free hand cupped Claire’s cheek then he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. He leaned into her, tilting her face up so he could have better access to her soft lips. Then his hand buried itself in her blonde hair, pulling pins and liberating her long locks. 

When he pulled away, his eyelids were extraordinarily heavy, but he planted one last kiss on her forehead before he let himself lie back down. “And now I can die happy,” he said with a smile before closing his eyes.