Sophia realized that he hadn't noticed what she was doing. Confounded, she wondered if he had been drinking. That was not like him at all, but it was the only possible reason for the unsteadiness of his gait.
'You are back early from your investigation in Long Acre,' she said. 'I--I was just straightening your room.'
He shook his head as if to clear it and approached her.
Sophia backed up against the dresser, staring at him in growing concern. 'Are you ill, sir?'
Sir Ross reached her and clutched the dresser on either side of her. His face was bone-white, throwing the blackness of his hair and brows and lashes into startling relief. 'We found the man we sought, hiding in a house on Rose Street,' he said. A thick forelock fell over his pale, sweating forehead. 'He climbed onto the roof...and jumped to the next house before Sayer could catch him. I joined in the chase...couldn't let him get away.'
'You were chasing a man on the rooftops?' Sophia was horrified. 'But that is dangerous! You could have been hurt.'
'Actually...' Sir Ross looked sheepish, his balance wavering. 'When I reached him, he pulled a pistol from his coat.'
'You were shot at?' Sophia scanned his black coat frantically. 'Did he hit you? Dear God--' She ran her hands down the front of the tailored wool panels of the coat and found that the left side was cool and slippery. A stifled cry burst from her lips as her palm came away smeared with blood.
'It's just a scratch.'
'Did you tell anyone?' Sophia demanded, frantically pulling him toward the bed. 'Have you sent for a doctor?'
'I can tend it myself,' he said testily. 'A mere scratch, as I said--' He grunted with pain when Sophia tugged the coat from his shoulders and down his arms.
'Lie down!' She was horrified by the amount of blood that had stained his shirt, leaving his entire left side soaked in scarlet. Unbuttoning the garment, she lifted the fabric from his shoulder and gasped at the sight of an oozing bullet wound. 'It is not a scratch, it is ahole . Don't you dare move. Why in God's name didn't you tell someone?'
'It is only a minor injury,' he said grumpily.
Sophia snatched up the shirt from the previous day and pressed it firmly against the welling blood. Sir Ross's breath hissed between his clenched teeth.
'You obstinate man,' Sophia said, stroking back the lock of hair that had adhered to his damp forehead. 'You are not invulnerable, despite what you and everyone else at Bow Street seem to think! Hold this in place while I send for a doctor.' 'Get Jacob Linley,' he muttered. 'At this time of evening he is usually across the street at Tom's.'
'Tom's coffeehouse?'
Sir Ross nodded, his eyes closing. 'Ernest will find him.'
Sophia dashed outside the room, shouting for help. The servants appeared in less than a minute, all of them appearing thunderstruck by the information that Sir Ross had been wounded.
As the servants at Bow Street No. 4 were accustomed to emergencies of one kind or another, they were quick to respond. Ernest scampered away to locate the doctor, Eliza went in search of clean rags and linens, and Lucie ran next door to inform Sir Grant of the situation.
Sophia returned to Sir Ross, her heart pounding in fear when she saw him lying so still on the bed. Gently she took his hand away from the wad of bloodstained cloth and applied more pressure to the wound. He made a rough sound, his eyes slitting open.
'It's been years since the last time I was shot,' he muttered. 'Forgot how damn much it hurts.'
Sophia was overwhelmed with worry. 'I hope it hurts,' she said vehemently. 'Perhaps that will teach you not to be running about on rooftops! What possessed you to do such a thing?'
Sir Ross gave her a narrow-eyed glance. 'For some reason the suspect didn't want to come down to the ground so that I could catch him more easily.'
'It was my impression that therunners are supposed to give chase,' she replied tartly. 'Whereasyou are supposed to stay safe and tell them what to do.'
'It doesn't always work that way.'
Sophia bit back another sharp reply and leaned over to unfasten his cuffs. 'I'm going to remove your shirt. Do you think you can manage to pull your arm from the sleeve, or shall I fetch the scissors?'
Sir Ross extended his arm in answer, and Sophia drew carefully on the cuff. She tugged the shirt away from his good side, revealing his thickly furred chest. He was more muscular than she had expected, his shoulders and chest well developed, his midriff furrowed with rows of tightly knit flesh. Sophia had never seen such an imposing masculine body. She felt her cheeks prickling with a flush as she leaned over him. Gently she slid her arm behind his neck. 'I'll lift you up enough to pull the shirt away from your back,' she said.
'I can do it myself.' His pain-hazed silver eyes stared into hers, while his neck tightened against her arm.
'Let me do the work,' she insisted, 'or you will make the bleeding worse.'
Slowly she lifted the weight of his head and tugged the shirt out from under him. Sir Ross's breath puffed against her chin. 'When I pictured being in bed with you,' he muttered, 'this was not how I had envisioned it.'
A surprised laugh caught in her throat. 'I will overlook that remark, as you are no doubt delirious from loss of blood.' Sophia was grateful for the appearance of Eliza, who came bearing a ewer of hot water and a pile of clean, folded cloths. Sir Ross grumbled but did not move as the two women washed the bloodstains from his chest and throat.
'It appears the bullet is still in his shoulder,' Eliza said pragmatically, easing away the wadded-up pad and replacing it with a fresh one. 'A pity, as Dr. Linley will have to remove it. But the wound is not close to the heart.'
Sophia leaned over Sir Ross and adjusted the pillow behind his head. The bullet could easily have pierced his heart, had the suspect's aim been any better. She was amazed by her reaction to the thought, the mixture of fear and anguish that engulfed her.
'I am fine,' Sir Ross said gruffly, somehow reading her unspoken thoughts. 'I will be up and about in a day or two.'
'Oh, no, you will not,' she replied. 'You will stay in this bed until you are completely well again--no matter what I must do to keep you here.'
Sophia was not aware that any sexual connotation could be attached to her promise until she saw the sudden glint of mockery in Sir Ross's eyes. She glared at him in silent warning, and he kept obligingly quiet, though his lips twitched in amusement. Nearby, Eliza developed a sudden interest in folding all the clean rags and cloths into tidy squares.
The tension in the room was broken by the welcome appearance of the doctor, Jacob Linley. He was lean and handsome, with gleaming blond hair and a ready smile. Sophia had heard of him before, since he was often summoned to Bow Street when medical attentions or opinions were required. However, this was the first time she had actually seen Dr. Linley.
'Cannon,' he said easily, hefting a weighty brown leather bag and setting it on the bedside chair. 'It seems that you had a bit of an adventure this evening.' He went immediately to Sir Ross, his attention focused on the wound. 'Hmm. A percussion cap shot at fairly close range, judging from the peppering around the wound. How did it happen?'
Sir Ross frowned slightly. 'I joined in the pursuit of a murder suspect.'
'He chased him across a rooftop,' Sophia added, unable to hold her silence.
The doctor turned toward her. His hazel eyes contained a friendly twinkle. 'A rooftop, you say? Well, I think that Sir Ross had better stay on the ground from now on, don't you?'
Sophia responded with a vigorous nod.
Still smiling, Dr. Linley made a brief but elegant bow. 'I presume you are Miss Sydney, the assistant I have heard so much of? I admit that I thought the runners' rapturous descriptions of you were exaggerated. Now I see that they were in fact understating the case.'
Before Sophia could reply, Sir Ross's sour voice came from the bed. 'Are you going to prattle all evening, Linley, or are you going to remove this bullet?'
