His eyes were closing and opening, pain ripping through them. She half rose and took his face gently in her hands. As she always did with Ferdinard. "Mr Brand? Can you hear me?" Her voice broke with concern. She hurt so much for him.
His eyes opened again, but she was in high doubt he could see her.
"You must lie down," she said softly. "Your wound needs stitching."
"Your wound needs stitching," she said quietly. "You must lie down.".
"No," he replied, shaking his head weakly. "I will not lie down."
"But the wound is severe—"
"No."
"—you must lie," she urged, brushing his long hair back from his face. It clung damply to her fingers. His skin beneath was chilled and pallid.
He groaned. "Then leave me be."
Madelyn studied him intently. Why was he so obstinate? Why refuse the bed? Did he wish for the wound to fester? Oh, what if he got a fever? Or worse, pneumonia? When he moaned again, her heart clenched painfully.
