Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 01] - Some Brief Folly by Patricia Veryan

like any normal, rational gentleman?"
    It was the last straw. Frustrated because he had been forced
to permit Mia being carried into this evil house, fretted by the
knowledge that his hurt was exacerbated and his recovery thereby
further delayed, humiliated by the awareness that he was under
considerable obligation to a man he despised, and in a good deal of
pain, Buchanan was in a foul temper and answered with a rudeness
normally foreign to him. "Because no 'normal, rational gentleman' would
be seen dead in this house, Dr. Archer! Besides which, my unwed sister
is in my charge, and were I to lie down upon a bed, I might be so
ill-advised as to fall asleep and thus leave her defenceless!"
    Archer stiffened. His bushy eyebrows drew together, and the
deep-set brown eyes below them fairly shot sparks. He hauled over a
small table and slammed his leather bag onto it "Positively overset
with gratitude, ain't you?"
    Buchanan reddened and, wishing he might retract his remarks,
said wearily, "I intend to properly thank Mr. Hawkhurst. I am aware I
stand indebted to the man."
    "Charmingly said. Your manners, I presume, grow on one."
Archer flung open his bag.
    "Pray do not put yourself to any great effort in my behalf,"
said Buchanan. "I mean to leave here just as soon as my sister is
recovered."
    The shirt beneath the injured man's cravat was wet and crimson
and, unbuttoning it, the doctor smiled grimly. "Do you? I wish I may
see it."
    "And I wish I may see the last of you, sir!" Buchanan wrenched
himself upward, sank his teeth into his underlip, and sagged back again.
    Archer heard the faint gasp and saw sweat start on the pallid
brow. The boy was in no state to be rational, and, irritated for having
allowed himself to become so angry, he at once became angrier, and
roared, "Hawk! Parsley! Mrs.
Hen
… der-son… !" No
response being forthcoming, he returned his attention to his unhappy
patient and growled, "So you intend to repay your rescuer by forcing me
to work on you in here, and likely ruin his pretty sofa."
    "To the… contrary, sir. I have not the least desire to… impose
upon your time," quoth Buchanan, indomitable but very white of lip.
"All I ask is that you… tie it up and let me reimburse you… and be on
my way."
    Archer ignored him and cut away the sodden dressing, and after
a brief but unpleasant interval announced that a bone chip was coming
out. "Just as well. Ain't healing properly. What you get when you
consult those puffed-up fools in London. Sooner go to a native
witchdoctor! Have to open it."
    Buchanan's feeble protestations were brushed aside. Another
series of roars for assistance made him jump, and the physician marched
to tug fruitlessly on the bellrope, then returned, muttering, "Whole
blasted army of servants hovering about 'til you need one! Weather's
awful. You want to go by yourself, that's your bread and butter. But
the child certainly cannot travel."
    "Kent? Was he hurt then? I had thought—"
    'That he would be dead were it not for your despised host? Had
you? Hmnnn. I'd not have guessed it." Archer met the blaze of those
blue eyes levelly, then rummaged in his bag and brought forth a small
but vicious-looking knife and several bottles.
    Incensed beyond endurance, Buchanan hauled himself upward.
Archer pushed him back and observed with a marked lack of sympathy that
he'd thought, "our gallant military heroes feared nothing."
    "Not an ill-mannered… country doctor at all… events!" flared
Buchanan.
    "I am most dreadfully sorry Dr. Hal," called a soft voice from
the doorway. "But I fear we are rather short of maids this afternoon.
They are gone to help decorate the Church, you see, and the two we have
left are preparing guest rooms and assisting Mrs. Henderson. Hawk has
taken most of the men to help with his team and see if they can clear
the road."
    "Stephanie? Come in, my dear." The doctor's gruff bark was
suddenly gentled, and he bent lower to hiss at the still fuming
Buchanan. "Hawkhurst's