Page 77 of A Duke's Keeper
He took in his youngest daughter’s wrapped midriff and the shaved section of her head where Mrs. Banner stitched sutures with iodized catgut.
They stayed in silence as the woman finished, pressing a bandage to Syd’s stitches and securing it with adhesive.
Markus watched, his hands twitching at his sides as if he’d take the needle and remaining gut on the table and stick it somewhere personal if Mrs. Banner so much asbreathedwrong.
Mrs. Banner finished and nodded at Markus before she quit the room, the white towel she used to wipe her hands stained red.
Still, Markus waited, an officer holding his breath after a battle of which he had yet to learn the number of casualties.
Syd smiled at her father. “I’m all right, Pops.”
Expression sagging, he stalked across the room and scooped her into his burly arms.
Camille looked away. That tenderness, that rage: It was the same look he’d had when she’d first met him, when he’d barreled through the door after learning Scarlet had been hurt.
That night, that horrible night. She’d been shocked then at the love on Markus’s face—a father who cared for nothing more than his child—and her heart had broken at the relationship she’d never know.
Markus pulled back, that cold-killer glint back in his eyes. “Who did this?”
Camille stepped out of the corner. “Was it Hawkins?”
Syd gave her a look, so much like her usual self, Camille felt relief ease the tightness in her chest.
“Like that piss-poor puppy could get the jump on me.” Syd shook her head. “I didn’t notice this man until he was right behind me. I panicked and fell.”
Camille frowned. “Youfell?” The man she’d seen could very well have seen Syd fall and gone to offer assistance. But why would someone else be on the Pony’s roof?
“I was lucky Madam keeps up maintenance. The new sign at the back held long enough for me to slow my fall.” Syd patted the side of her head. “This could’ve been a lot worse.”
Worse—as in her head cracked open like an egg on the cobblestones.
“You fell off the roof!” Markus picked up the surgeon’s tray, the tools and cloth crusted with his daughter’s blood, and threw it across the room, where it crashed against the wall.
Camille shrank back, instinct and memory screaming for her to make herself as small a target as possible.
But Syd didn’t flinch.
Markus rounded on Camille and came around the table, his eyes locked on her.
Camille dropped her head. It was her fault Syd had gotten hurt. Syd had been alone because of her; the Merrys traveled twoor more, for this exact reason. God, if she’d but stayed inside the club ten minutes longer—
Strong arms wrapped around her, the embrace strange and foreign and so gentle, tears burned her eyes once the shock had passed.
“Thank you,” he said. “That’s twice you brought one of my girls back to me.”
Camille bit her lip, not deserving his kindness. She pulled away, her shoulders stiff. “If she hadn’t been watching over me—”
“Finish that sentence, Cam, and I’ll slap you.” Syd stood with a wince. “And I’d rather not reopen my head wound.”
“But—”
A brunette blur dashed into the room. “Sydney!”
Scarlet threw her arms around her sister, her face pinched in concern and her stained apron still tied around her waist, as if she hadn’t taken the time to remove it after the messenger had relayed Syd’s condition to her at the Cock ’n Hen.
The small space was eaten up with Scarlet’s flurry of questions. “Are you okay? How did this happen? Did that vampire woman sterilize the wounds first? Who the hell did this?”
Syd pushed her sister away. “I can’t breathe. Stop fussing,” she said, but her expression was pleased. “I got spooked by a shadow is all. Go back and wait on those slobbering fools at the tavern. I’m fine.”
