Drawing up to his full height, Bram looked around the room and spoke with cool authority. “No one cuts into this boy. Not until I return. That’s an order.” He turned to his corporal. “Do you hear me, Thorne? No one touches him. You have my permission to use whatever means you must.”
He turned and strode from the forge, leaving everyone stunned, staring blankly at one another. They all knew what Bram refused to admit—that preserving Finn’s foot could mean losing his life.
“I’ll talk to him,” said Lord Payne, moving for the door.
Susanna stopped him. “Wait, my lord. Let me try.”
A look of understanding passed between them. He nodded. “Stubborn fool never listens to me. Never listens to anyone, I’d wager. But he loves you, so perhaps there’s that.”
Susanna blinked at him, startled.
“Hasn’t he said so yet?” Payne shrugged. “Cowardly bastard doesn’t deserve you. Go on, now.” He gave her a fond nudge.
Susanna rushed out of the smithy and into the yard, where Bram was readjusting his horse’s saddle, preparing to mount.
“Bram, wait,” she called, dashing to his side. “I know this is horrible for you. It’s a tragedy, truly. But we can’t wait on a surgeon’s opinion tonight. Dawes must operate quickly, if Finn’s to have any chance.”
“I won’t let you lame him. He’s fourteen years old, for Christ’s sake. Full of a young boy’s plans and dreams. Take that foot, and you take his whole future with it. The Brights aren’t a privileged family. They work for their living. What kind of life is Finn going to have, with one leg?”
“I don’t know. But at least he will have a life. If we delay, Finn will die.”
“You don’t know that, Susanna. I’ve seen a great many more wounds of this nature than you have. You may have a talent with herbs and such, but you’re no surgeon.”
“I . . .” She stepped back, feeling the sting of his rebuke. That ache in her ribs reasserted itself. “I know I’m not.”
“Do you?” His jaw clenched as he tightened the saddle girth. “You seem eager enough to pretend. You’d sentence that boy to life as an invalid, just because you’ve been hurt in the past. You’re letting your own fear of doctors put Finn at risk.”
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her. “It’s not my fears that are putting Finn at risk. It’s yours, don’t you see? You’re still so caught on this notion that you can’t be a whole man, can’t be worth anything unless you prove you have two strong, perfectly functioning legs to carry you into battle. You’d even drag me along to Portugal before you’d admit otherwise. But this is not about you, Bram.”
He shot her a defensive glare. “I hadn’t planned to drag you anywhere, Susanna. I’d planned to take you willingly, happily—or not at all. Are you telling me you don’t want to come?”
How could he put such choices to her, at a time like this?
“I love you. I want to be with you. But dashing off to Portugal next Tuesday, just because my father’s a selfish, unfeeling old stick? It sounds romantic, to be sure . . . but also a bit juvenile. Aren’t we both a little too old to be running away from home?”
“This may be your home, but it will never be mine.”
“You’re wrong, Bram. Home is where people need you.” She gestured at the smithy. “And right now, the people in there need you desperately. Aaron Dawes needs every strong pair of hands to help. Finn needs you to stand beside him, and help him to be brave. To show him a man can be a man, whether he has two good legs or one. And after all is said and done, I’m going to need you to hold me. Because helping with this surgery is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
When he still didn’t cease his preparations, a knot of fear formed in her throat. “Bram,” she said, her voice breaking. “You can’t do this. Not an hour ago, you promised to never leave me.”
He ceased wrestling with the saddle and released an angry sigh. “Susanna. Not an hour ago, you claimed to trust me with your life.”
“We’re not off to a very good start then, are we?”
“I suppose we’re not.”
They stared at each other. Then he turned, placed his foot in the stirrup, and swiftly mounted his horse.
That pain in her side returned. Though logically, she knew the pain to be placed too low, she couldn’t help but suspect her heart was breaking. “I can’t believe you’re actually going.”
“I never had a thought of doing otherwise, Susanna.” The horse danced under him, sensing its rider’s impatience to be off. “The only question is whether I have a reason to return. If you let them take that boy’s foot while I’m gone . . . I’ll never be able to look at you again.”
With that, he turned his horse and left.
She stood watching him until he disappeared into the darkening night. Then she turned and walked numbly back to the forge.
When she entered alone, all present turned to her.
“Lord Rycliff has gone,” she said, although it hardly seemed to need saying. “How is Finn?”