night. She suspected he felt much worse than he was planning to let on. He’d been too quiet for the last few minutes. Lord knew she was ready to faint simply from performing the surgery.
“Can you move or are you too weak?”
“I—I’m fine. Once you finish, I…I need a minute to clean up. Just close the door behind you when you leave.”
Luke’s eyes were closed, his pale, clammy face resting on still-tense forearms, his body straddling the counter. His voice was muffled and miserable and she knew she couldn’t risk leaving him alone in the bathroom. He did not have the strength he pretended to have. Jillian eyed the blood-soaked underwear and made a quick decision. She grabbed the scissors and before she could change her mind, swiftly sliced up the sides of his underwear.
“What in the sweet hell are you doing?”
“Don’t move or you’ll show me far more than you intended.” She peeled the underwear off his well-developed and very clenched muscles and pretended not to notice how lean and hard he looked. Dear Lord, this was just his backside. Though she tried desperately not to, she couldn’t help but wonder about the rest of him. Forcibly discarding the images, she wet a washcloth with warm water and sponged the dried blood from his skin. Still averting her eyes, she snatched a towel from the rod near his head. Now that she’d stripped him, she was rapidly losing her nerve.
Without meeting his gaze, she wrapped the towel around him and tied it loosely at his waist. Then she dropped to the floor and tugged his jeans from his feet. “I’ll wash these in the sink. I can probably get most of the blood out so you’ll have something to wear later.”
With another washcloth she carefully rinsed his forehead and face with cool water. He startled when she scooped up his long, golden hair and washed the back of his neck.
“That feels good.”
His mumbled comment sounded faraway and sleepy. When she had done all that she could to make him more comfortable, she dug through the cosmetic bag again while he awkwardly lifted himself from the counter. He staggered a little and she ducked under his arm, forcing his weight onto her.
“Here. Take these before we go out to the bedroom.” She handed him three blue pills. It wouldn’t do much for the agony he must be experiencing, but it was all she had. His face was white with pain and his eyes grim as he scooped them up and brought them to his mouth.
“What the hell are these?”
Jillian felt her face flush with color again. “They’re…you know. They, uh, help with cramps…when I, um, have my monthly. I’m sure they’ll take the edge off.”
His eyes bleak, Luke swallowed them without comment. He must have felt terrible, because he didn’t even argue when she led him to the empty bed. She didn’t dare let go of him as she tugged the bedspread back and snatched the sheets apart. He was very woozy. He just didn’t want her to know it. He sat heavily, careful not to put any weight on his right side. She punched up a pillow and gently pushed him back against it. He collapsed onto the pillow and she helped him pull his legs up, pushing them under the covers.
As soon as he was safely in bed, she raced back to the bathroom for a glass of water and the washcloth. She soaked it in cold water and wrung it out before taking it back to Luke. He was still conscious, but just barely. She laid the cloth over his eyes and set the waterglass on the nightstand within his reach.
“Where’s my gun?”
“Right here. I’ll put it in the drawer.”
“No. Gotta have it.” His words were slurred, but they were still adamant.
“No. If James or Samuel wakes up and sees—”
“Okay. You’re right. Forgot ’bout…kids.”
She sighed with relief when he gave in, rolling over onto his side and finally shutting his eyes. A hot shower was next on the list. She was sticky with perspiration and still shaking from the whole ordeal. She stepped away from the bed but was startled again by the strength of his grip when Luke jerked her back to his side. She hadn’t even seen him move.
“Wha…what is it? Are you ill?”
His hand was warm where it stroked her wrist, his voice even warmer when he finally spoke. “Thanks for what you did. You’re all right, Lady Jillian.” His hand slowly dropped away and his breathing deepened. She listened for a moment, absently rubbing her arm where he’d held it before heading back to the overly bright bathroom.
Lady Jillian, indeed. Lady Jillian Moseby would’ve had the bloody vapors if she’d been asked to remove a bullet. From a man’s bum, no less. Agent Gianetti was lucky she’d left Lady Jillian back in Sussex. She was Jilly now. And out of sheer necessity, Jilly would have to learn to be ready for anything. Tonight had proven it. Three children. Good God, how would she do it?
She methodically scrubbed the countertop and put away her supplies. Try as she might, she couldn’t find the bullet she’d tossed on the counter. She gave up and began scrubbing Luke’s jeans. Once they were dry, the blood stain would barely be noticeable. She held his pants up to the light. The bullet hole was tiny. How could something so small inflict so much damage? She shuddered as she remembered her sister and what Annie had done with a gun in her hands.
Finally she stripped off her clothes and stood under the shower for a long time, letting the warm water sluice over her in an attempt to wash away the horror of the past hour, of the whole day, actually. Dear Lord, it had been bloody awful. Ever since she’d arrived in the States, it had been one nightmare after another. She had absolutely no idea how to be a mother. What if she bodged it up? Three little lives were depending on her.
No one had ever depended on her to do anything. As far as parenting skills, she had none that she knew of. How would she ever live up to her promise to Annie? Jillian was beginning to wonder if she’d ever be anything other than too late. Too late for Annie. Nearly too late for the children…
The terror she’d experienced earlier when Luke had hijacked her car was nothing compared to removing that bullet. Tears sprang to her eyes when she remembered the pain in his eyes. She’d hurt him terribly. The sobs finally came and she allowed herself a good long cry before she methodically conditioned her hair and finally stepped out of the shower. It was nearly midnight. With any luck she could fall into bed for a few hours before Sarah woke her at three. At least that was what the baby had done the previous three nights. She could only assume it would happen every night.
Her eyes were pink when she examined them in the mirror. Her gym shorts and T-shirt would have to suffice for pajamas. It wouldn’t be worth the effort of dragging the suitcase in from the car. And where would she put it anyway? The room was ready to explode.
She rinsed out her blouse and brushed her teeth before leaving the claustrophobic bathroom. She left the door slightly open, allowing a crack of light to remain in case the boys got up during the night.
Luke’s bulky frame took up most of the bed but she was too tired to pretend she cared about modesty. Lady Jillian or not, there was no way she was sleeping on the floor, not after the day she’d had. And she’d already seen the man’s naked butt, for goodness’ sake. She shook her head and slipped between the sheets on the other side.
Here she was, across the Atlantic only six days now, and already in bed with an American stranger. She smothered a giggle as a vision of her mother floated in front of her eyes. Rosemary Moseby would still manage to look dignified and oh, so proper, even with her mouth hanging open and her eyes bugged out. She would be appalled. Her worst nightmare come true: her precious Jillian in bed with a man…and a bloody Yank to boot.
She sighed and settled back against the pillow. If Rosemary only knew. Try as she might, Jilly couldn’t picture removing a bullet from Ian’s butt. Her fiancé—no, make that ex-fiancé, thank you very much—had been far more like her mother than she’d ever realized. She covered her mouth when another giggle erupted. Ian was so proper and reserved, why he could’ve simply squeezed his cheeks together and the bullet would’ve