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Sitting beside her outstretched leg, Hunt smoothed her skirts up to her knee and fastened a length of silk
above her ankle. Nearly always, he said wryly, concentrating on his handiwork. Being a butcher s son
consigns me to a lifelong fascination with knives.
I never thought Annabelle stopped and gasped in pain at the soft cinch of silk.
Hunt s gaze shot to hers, and there was a new tautness in his face. I m sorry, he said, carefully looping
the other half of the stocking beneath her injury. He talked to distract her while he tightened the second
tourniquet. This is what comes of wearing those damned flimsy slippers outside. You must have walked
right over an adder who was sunning himself & and when he saw one of those pretty little ankles, he
decided to take a nibble. He paused, and said something beneath his breath that sounded like, I can t
say that I blame him.
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Her leg pulsed and burned, causing a watery sting of response in her eyes. Fighting the mortifying threat
of tears, Annabelle dug her fingers into the thick, brocaded counterpane beneath her. Why has my ankle
only started to hurt this badly now if I was bitten earlier in the day?
It can take several hours for the effects to set in. Hunt glanced at Daisy. Miss Bowman, ring the
servants bell tell them that we need some clivers steeped in boiling water. Immediately.
What are clivers? Daisy asked suspiciously.
A hedgerow weed. The housekeeper has kept a dried bundle of them in her closet ever since the
master gardener was bitten last year.
Daisy rushed to comply, leaving the two of them temporarily alone.
What happened to the gardener? Annabelle asked through chattering teeth. She was overcome with
continuous shivers, as if she had been immersed in ice water. Did he die?
Hunt s expression did not change, but she sensed that her question had startled him. No, he said
gently, drawing closer. No, sweetheart& Taking her trembling hand in his, he warmed her fingers in a
gentle grip. Hampshire adders don t produce enough venom to kill anything larger than a cat, or a very
small dog. His gaze was caressing as he continued. You ll be fine. Uncomfortable as hell for the next
few days, but after that you ll be back to normal.
You re not trying to be kind, are you? she asked anxiously.
Bending over her, Hunt stroked back a few tendrils of hair that had stuck to her sweat-shimmered
forehead. Despite the size of his hand, his touch was light and tender. I never lie for the sake of
kindness, he murmured, smiling. One of my many flaws.
Having given instructions to a footman, Daisy hastened back to the bedside. Although she raised her
slender dark brows at the sight of Hunt leaning over Annabelle, she forbore to comment. Instead, she
asked, Shouldn t we cut across the puncture wounds to let the poison out?
Annabelle sent her a warning glance and croaked, Don t give him ideas, Daisy!
Hunt looked up briefly as he replied. Not for an adder bite. His eyes narrowed as he returned his
attention to Annabelle, noting that her breathing was rapid and shallow. Is it difficult to breathe?
Annabelle nodded, struggling to pull air into lungs that seemed to have shrunk to a third of their usual
size. It felt as if bands were drawing more tightly around her chest with every breath she took, until her
ribs threatened to crack from the pressure.
Hunt touched her face softly, his thumb passing over the dry surface of her lips. Open your mouth.
Looking beyond her parted lips, he observed, Your tongue isn t swelling you ll be fine. Your corset
has to come off, however. Turn over.
Before Annabelle could form a reply, Daisy protested indignantly. I llhelp Annabelle with her corset.
Leave the room, please.
I ve seen a woman s corset before, he informed her sarcastically.
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Daisy rolled her eyes. Don t be deliberately obtuse, Mr. Hunt. Obviouslyyou re not the one I m
worried about. Men don t remove young ladies corsets for any reason, unless the circumstances are
life-threatening which you have just assured us that they are not.
Hunt regarded her with a long-suffering expression. Dammit, woman
Swear all you like, Daisy said implacably. My older sister could outcurse you ten times over. She
drew herself up to her full height, though at five feet and one debatable inch, the effect was hardly
impressive. Miss Peyton s corset stays on until you leave the room.
Hunt glanced down at Annabelle, who suddenly craved air too badly to care who removed her corset,
so long as it was done. For God s sake, he said impatiently, and strode to the window, turning his back
to them. I m not looking.Do it.
Seeming to realize that it was the only concession he was prepared to make, Daisy obeyed hurriedly.
She eased the coat away from Annabelle s stiff body. I ll untie the laces in the back and slip it off
beneath your gown, she murmured to Annabelle. That way you ll remain decently covered.
Annabelle couldn t summon sufficient breath to tell her that any concerns she might have had about
modesty had paled in comparison to the far more immediate problem of not being able to breathe.
Wheezing harshly, she turned to her side and felt Daisy s fingers plucking at the slippery back of her ball
gown. Her lungs spasmed in their frustrated attempts to pull in precious air. Letting out an anxious moan,
she began to pant desperately.
Daisy let out a few choice curses. Mr. Hunt, I m afraid I must borrow your knife the corset strings
are knotted, and I can t oof! The last exclamation came as Hunt strode to the bed, shoved her
unceremoniously aside, and set to work on the corset himself. A few judicious applications of his knife,
and suddenly the obstinate garment released its punishing clasp around Annabelle s ribs.
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