The Last Rose Pearl: A Low Country Love Story (Low Country Love Stories Book 1) by Walton Grace

Author:Walton, Grace [Walton, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: CleanHeart Publishing
Published: 2014-09-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

An hour after dawn Sander could wait no longer to check on Dylan. He’d stifled his concern until the hall outside the rooms was quiet. He then slipped into his nephew's chamber. Expecting to see the wounded man asleep in the four-poster bed, Sander jumped when he heard the greeting from the other side of the room.

“Good morning Uncle.” Dylan was stripped to the waist. He stood over a speckled washbowl resting upon a low chest. A small mirror hung above the chest. In the mirror, Sander watched Dylan’s long, steady sweeps with a straight edged razor. The bandage around his lean body looked like a fancy military sash. Something a stylish fop would wear to impress the debutantes at a ball. Sander came over to examine it.

“How're the stitches?” He saw one place on the linen that was rusty, damp, and ugly.

“Fine,” Dylan said.

“You're a liar,” Sander grunted. “They always hurt more the day after.”

Dylan mopped his face with a hand towel and turned, staring down his uncle. “It hurts like bloody, sodding, cursed Hades. Now get out.”

“Let me change the bandage first.” Sander got the box out from under the bed. He'd shoved it there the night before. Cutting the linen away, he saw what he'd most feared. The torn flesh around the stitches was swollen and purple. He scowled and said, “You've got to stay in bed today, all day. You should have stayed there last night. Any sudden movement could rupture this wound.”

“Sander just slap another dressing on the thing,” Dylan ordered. “I promise. I will come back to this room after breakfast. I’ll not leave for the rest of the day. If you’ll stop harping and wringing your hands.”

“Would you consider having breakfast in here?” The black man finished the bandage and stood back to examine his handiwork.

Dylan clenched his jaw and shrugged carefully into the shirt he'd laid out on the bed. “No, I'm having breakfast with the rest of you.”

Sander pulled at the shirt to hide the bulky material beneath. “You're just trying to make her think you're all right,” he accused.

Dylan's face was impassive when he replied, “I am all right.” He didn't wait to hear whatever else Sander had to say. He set his jaw and left the room. He went out into the hall and down the stairs with no sign of injury or pain.

Entering the small dining room, he heard Tirzah and Rory coming through the entrance. Breakfast had to be carried from the kitchen out in the yard. Both of the women supported heavy platters. He took Rory's away from her and deposited it on the polished wooden table.

There was a distinct question in her eyes as she searched his face. “Good morning Mr. St. John, how are you this morning?”

She desperately wanted to ask about his injury. But she couldn't in front of Tirzah.

“I am well, wonderfully well Miss Aurora, and how are you?”

His gallantry told her nothing. She wrinkled her nose at him and sat in the chair he'd pulled out for her.

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