For Love's Sake (9 page)

Christopher had seen broken bones in the hunting field a thousand times – even had a few himself – but nothing like the mangled, swollen hand of the poor boy writhing in the back of that wagon. Every jar and jolt of the rutted country road brought him excruciating agony, and Danny cried out through clenched teeth.

“How much farther?” Christopher inquired of the driver, unsure of how much longer the young man could hold on.

“Bout an hour, Sir,” the old black man answered. He clucked that the team of mules, urging them to quicken their pace.

Danny grabbed Christopher’s sleeve with his good hand, twisting the crisp white fabric between his fingers. “Help me! Knock me out! You gotta do something for this pain! I can’t take it anymore!”

“Stay calm,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

Forty-five minutes later, the wagon pulled in front of the hospital. Danny was too weak to stand, so they carried him inside. He was immediately rushed into an operating room. Since he had still not let go of his shirtsleeve, Christopher was dragged along with him.

“You can’t be in here!” a nurse said.

Everything was white and sterile. Metal gleamed in the glow of the harsh electric lights, which hummed above the narrow table. Christopher did not
want
to be in there, but no amount of prying would loosen poor Danny’s grip off his arm. Finally, the nurse administered a sedative through a long syringe, and the young man faded from consciousness.

As he walked out the door and down the long corridor, Christopher passed the doctor that met them out front and the surgeon, who was dressed in a pristine white apron and cap.

“We will have to amputate,” he heard one of them say.

“Excuse me, Doctor.” Christopher stopped them in the hallway, just outside the operating room door. “Did I hear you were going to take his hand?”

The man nodded while his colleague looked on, annoyed by the intrusion.

“Is it an absolute necessity? Surely, something can be done.”

“I am sorry, but from the looks of his injuries, it would take numerous surgeries to repair the damaged hand. We find that it is much more
practical
to amputate in situations such as this.”

Christopher grew very visibly frustrated. “But why not the surgeries? If it is a matter of money…”

Both the physician and the surgeon glanced over at each other. “Are you willing to pay for the young man’s treatment?”

“I am.”

“Then we will see what can be done.”

After hours of surgery, Danny Clay awoke in a large hospital ward with both of his hands. Beneath the bandages, his injured hand was still in rough shape, and might not ever be fully functional, but he was ecstatic just to be a “whole” man again. Nevermind that it would mean the end of his job as a carder in the mill, and that his future was now uncertain; he would be able to care for himself, and one day even care for his children.

“I’d like to shake your hand!” he said as ‘His Lordship’ made his way down the long aisle between the patients’ beds.

“Wait a few weeks for that.” Christopher was exhausted, his white shirt and charcoal gray waistcoat spattered with dried blood, but he managed to smile at the young man.

Danny agreed, and urged his visitor to have a seat in the lone wooden chair beside the bed. Christopher sank down into the stiff-backed chair as if it were the most comfortable, overstuffed leather armchair.

“I sent word to your parents that all is well. And I believe the doctor said you would be able to go home tomorrow, provided that you keep regular appointments with Doctor Monroe to make certain you’re healing and that there is no infection.”

“Of course!” Danny said. “They’ll be the best taken care of hands in Gaston County!”

“Good, I am glad to hear it.”

As the two of them sat there in the quiet hospital ward that evening, Danny worked up the courage to ask ‘His Lordship’ a very personal question.

“Are you in love with Laurel Graham?”

Although he cocked an eyebrow at the young man’s inquiry, Christopher’s features quickly returned to bland inscrutability. “No.”

“Well, I am.”

He leaned back in his stiff wooden chair, uncertain of where this conversation was going.

“And…And I don’t want her being hurt,” Danny continued. “I know she don’t like to let on, but that mess with the preacher’s son really cut her deep.”

Christopher could not disagree with that statement. He merely propped his leg up across his other knee and wished that he had a cigarette, but he had left his jacket hanging in his office at the mill.

“Now I know that I ain’t no English lord or anything, but what I lack in money and fancy clothes, I make up for tenfold in honesty and hard work.”

“What are you saying? That I should stay away from Miss Graham?” Christopher asked, no longer able to keep silent on the matter. “If that is the case, you can have her – provided that
she
will have you.”

Poor Danny sighed. “She don’t want me. She’s never wanted me. What she really wants is a man like you, though I don’t think she knows it yet.”

His admission made Christopher uncross his legs and lean forward, almost resting his arms on the clean white coverlet of the bed. “I’m not understanding where you are going with this. You love her and I don’t, but yet you are saying she should be with me?”

“Yes, Sir. I am,” the young man said earnestly. “Really loving someone means letting them go if in your heart you know that it is the best thing for them.”

The following afternoon, the Clay household was inundated with visitors, most bringing casseroles and ready-made meals to help the family through this trying time. Deirdre and Laurel brought a dish sent by Mrs. Jones, and then visited with Danny in the sparsely furnished, but comfortable front room.

He had just unwrapped his bandages to change them, showing off his purple, swollen hand. Slashing through the flesh of his fingers and across the meaty part near his thumb were dozens of sharp black stitches.

“You’re all pieced together like a scarecrow!” Laurel laughed.

Deirdre did not find his horrific injuries so amusing, and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “How awful, Danny.”

The young man smiled, enjoying the attention he was receiving. “Naw, it ain’t that bad. Hardly hurts at all!”

“I bet it did when it happened!” said Laurel. “When we heard that Doctor Monroe sent you to Gastonia, we feared the worst.”

His bright smile wavered a little. “It did hurt then, but I don’t really remember too much about the ride. I just remember being
real
scared!”

Laurel wanted to hear all the gory details, but Deirdre distracted Danny from his story by fussing all over him. He, however, was eager to tell his story
and
be fussed over.

“Do ya’ll want to hear a secret?” he asked, lowering his voice barely above a whisper. Both girls nodded, and he continued. “His Lordship paid for everything. Nobody’s supposed to know though, so don’t say a word.”

Deirdre was perplexed. “Why would he do that?”

“Because if I didn’t have the money for all the surgeries and doctor’s visits, they were going to take my hand.”

Christopher finished having dinner downstairs, and returned to his room to relax before bed. He poured himself a glass of whiskey just as there was a loud knock on his door. When he opened it, he was shocked to find Miss Graham on the other side.

“You did it, didn’t you?” she said as he let her in the room.

“Did what?”

Laurel stared at him, believing that he was feigning ignorance. “You saved Danny’s hand.”

Christopher took a long, slow drink from his glass, thinking how best to answer her. “He was not supposed to tell anyone.”

A bright smile of admiration flashed across Laurel’s face, and she rushed to wrap her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she said. “
Thank you.
”

He tried to disentangle himself from her embrace. “Now everyone is going to be expecting charity…”

“Oh no,” she confessed, holding him tighter. “He only told Deirdre and me, and your secret is safe with us. I promise.”

Despite his best efforts, Christopher could feel his body warming beneath her touch. The embrace seemed to have the same effect on Laurel, who buried her face into his neck. She could feel his stiff celluloid collar pressing into her cheek, and she could smell the scent of his cologne. Her fingers traced along the back of his neck, feeling the swirl of dark auburn hair that grew there.

Christopher lurched at the sensation, fearing the loss of control that his mind was screaming would be coming next. He pushed her away, almost sending Laurel crashing backward onto the floor.

“I am sorry. Please leave,” he said, his voice tense and strained. When she showed no signs of following his orders, he grew agitated. “
Go!
”

Laurel shook her head, reaching out for his hand and drawing it up to her mouth. She kissed his knuckles, then turned it over, running her lips across his palm. She was ready to give herself over to the feelings that had been gradually consuming her for the past few weeks.

 
Christopher opened his mouth to protest, but the words fell short, catching themselves in his throat. He pulled her to him, crushing her body against his chest as he thrust his hands in her hair. Their mouths met in a rough kiss, so hard and hungry that their teeth pressed through their lips, almost making it painful. It was Christopher who first dared to run his tongue along the soft interior of her lips, urging her mouth to open to his.

When Laurel did so, she felt herself shudder, losing herself in the sensation of their tongues entwining themselves, retreating, and then meeting again. Christopher’s large hand crept up her spine, steadying and encouraging her. She could feel the evidence of his desire digging into her hip, and knew that if she yielded to him, she would never be able to return to the way things were.

His fingertips slipped up the neck of her blouse, fumbling to unfasten the tiny buttons at the back. He was impatient, and Laurel was afraid that he would tear her shirt in the process, so she brushed his hands away and undid them herself. She had never undressed in front of a man.

When she was clad in nothing but her white cotton corset and undergarments, Christopher ran his large hands across her stomach, splaying his fingers around her narrow waist. He skillfully pushed open the clasps down the busk, freeing her body as the corset fell to the floor.

“Go lay down on the bed,” he whispered.

 
On shaking legs, Laurel climbed out of her thin cotton undergarments and stockings, then pulled herself back onto the enormous bed. She lay on top of the satin covers, her naked body exposed to his view, watching Christopher as he undressed. He pulled off his necktie before unbuttoning his collar, slinging both onto the bureau beside him. Next, he removed his waistcoat, and then peeled himself out of his braces, letting them fall around his waist and hang down his legs. His eyes never left her as he stepped out of his trousers and pulled his shirt over his head.

Laurel’s heart beat wildly. Christopher crossed the carpet and stood before her, looking possessively down at her body, which was spread out across his bed. As his pale blue eyes traveled from her face, across her breasts, lower, and then back up again, she swallowed.

He bent down, placing both hands on either side of her shoulders. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” Laurel said. “Just a little nervous.”

Christopher smiled disarmingly. He did not seem the least bit nervous, nor was he ashamed of his nakedness in front of her. To prove it, he lifted one of her hands and placed it on his ribcage, encouraging her to touch him and to let him touch her. Laurel tentatively traced her fingers across the ridges that his ribs made, down almost to his hip, and then up the hard muscles of his back and shoulders.

He coaxed her lower body off the edge of the bed, supporting her with his arm beneath her bottom. Before Laurel understood what he meant to do, Christopher pushed himself into her, drawing a ragged gasp from her mouth. The pain was a shock, but as soon as it slashed through her, it retreated, becoming nothing more than an ache. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips as he began to move within her.

Already, Christopher’s face was strained. He fought against the pleasure welling up inside him, trying to control his urgency. As he drove into her again and again, withdrawing himself only as far as her restraining legs would allow, he pressed his lips to her chest. Kissing her breasts, he moved from one to the other, taking each nipple into his mouth and drawing on it almost roughly.

This sent jolts of pleasure coursing through Laurel’s body. She twisted and pulled at the bed sheets, arching her hips against him with every thrust. It was all the encouragement Christopher needed. He released her breast, bringing his mouth up to meet hers. Every muscle in his body was tense from the currents of pleasure gathering within them as he thrust into her, begging her to reach her satisfaction before he gave in to his.

Laurel thrashed against the pillow, almost frightened of the sensations taking over her body. They grew more frantic and undeniable, crashing within her and increasing her pleasure with each collision. When she did not think that she could withstand it any longer, they finally shattered, splintering into spasms of ecstasy that raced along every nerve.

Christopher relished in the satisfaction that he had given her. He felt every jolt within her as her body clenched down against his. In fact, her enjoyment multiplied his, drawing gasps of pleasure from him as he plunged himself into her. When he felt that he might cry out, Christopher buried his face into her neck. Hard, jarring convulsions racked his body as he shuddered again and again.

Protectively, Laurel clutched him to her, running her hands along the base of his neck. He seemed to want – to
need
– her to hold him as he trembled against her. They lay still until his pleasure subsided. When Christopher regained control of himself, he ran his knuckles across her cheek, in awe of the affect her body had on his.

“Did I hurt you?”