consternation.
“Trust me. Please,” Christopher urged.
He approached. “What in heaven's name is all over her dress?”
Christopher glanced over her shoulder. “Damnation!” Quiet, fool. Cursing in
front of the bishop isn't going to help. “I beg your pardon, Right Reverend Cary.
It's blood. Looks like more of her injuries have opened up. I've moved her too much. Sorry, love.”
James reached for the fastenings of her gown but hesitated. “This is wrong.”
“It's necessary, and she agrees, don't you, Katerina?”
Katerina nodded against his shoulder. Her weight was growing as her
trembling legs lost strength.
“Please hurry. I'm afraid she's going to faint.”
James opened the back of the gown and Christopher slid it, and her chemise,
down to her waist, keeping her front pressed against his chest to preserve her modesty.
“Good Lord!” James exclaimed, and his uncle grunted in astonishment.
“There you see? Have you ever encountered injuries this bad?” Christopher
demanded, his fingers sliding over one deep groove.
“Once,” the bishop said grimly. “The unfortunate lady did not survive. I had
to perform her funeral service. Her husband was hanged. Is that the extent of the
damage?”
“No.” Christopher did not elaborate. He didn't need to. “Will you issue the license now?”
“Perhaps. First I need to speak to her alone.”
“James, a little help please?”
Together they worked her clothing back over her ruined flesh and fastened it.
Christopher walked her back to the sofa, supporting nearly all her weight, and helped her to lie down on her only uninjured side. With gentle fingers, he smoothed a wisp of dark hair away from her ashen face.
“Don't leave, Christopher,” she sobbed, finding her voice at last.
“I won't go far, love,” he promised. “The bishop needs to talk to you. I'll be
nearby if you need me.” He stroked her cheek gently and pressed his lips to her
forehead. “Be strong, Katerina. Whatever he asks you, tell him the truth.”
He lingered in the doorway until James pulled him out. “She's safe with my
uncle. Let's go look for a snack. I hardly got a bite of dinner and you didn't get
any. Besides, you could use a drink.”
CHAPTER 6
“M y dear,” the bishop approached Katerina slowly. Tears slid
down her temple into the sapphire-colored upholstery, “do
you swear to me it was your father, and not your young man, who hurt you so
badly?”
She looked askance at him.
“Sometimes abusive men can coerce women into lying, but if you marry
him, the abuse will continue.”
