Free Secrets of the Heart by Jillian Kent Page A

guide you through this operation, Ravensmoore. The first thing you’ll have to do is apply the tourniquet.”
    Devlin grabbed a strip of cloth and tied it around the boy’s forearm. “Done.”
    “Now pull the wood out, understanding that it may splinter.”
    The other students crowded around them.
    Devlin never grew tired of the intricacies of the human body. He quickly prayed and placed his hand over the boy’s wrist and thumb and pulled. Nothing.
    “You can’t afford to be timid, Ravensmoore. If he wakes up, it will only be more difficult to achieve the outcome we want over the top of his screams and thrashing.”
    Devlin nodded. “Understood.” He could feel the sweat forming on his brow. He suddenly remembered the wood he’d extracted from Lord Richfield’s thigh and the heavy bleeding that followed. Devlin took a deep breath, placed his hand around the wood using the other hand as leverage, and pulled steadily and straight. The wood erupted from the child’s hand.
    “I want you to put your finger in the wound and feel for any shards of wood. The tourniquet will help staunch the flow of blood, but we don’t want to waste any time in order to avoid other complications.”
    Devlin followed Langford’s directions. The skin around the puncture gave way, and he searched for splinters. He felt them, and one stuck in his own finger. Removing each piece, Devlin slowly exhaled and turned to his instructor. The bleeding subsided, indicating that an artery had not been damaged.
    “Good. Now the sutures.”
    Devlin stitched the hole in Jamie’s hand shut, wrapped the wound, and then removed the tourniquet.
    “Now, if infection doesn’t set in, the child might have a chance of survival.” Langford wiped his hands on his stained apron. “This, gentlemen, is one reason a physician should know how to care for such injuries. Physicians need to know how to be the best of surgeons, or patients will die. We never know what God may place in our path. We need to prepare for any eventuality. The writing of a receipt for pain or a poultice for infection would not suffice.”
    An attendant came to take the child. Devlin patted his patient’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “God speed, Jamie. God speed.”
    “We’ll visit other patients while our next surgical patient is readied,” Langford announced. As his entourage checked on the progress of those afflicted with gout, malaise, and pregnancy concerns, Devlin forced himself to concentrate, though he continued to think and pray for the healing of young Jamie.

     
    Madeline awoke to the clatter of china and silverware. “Who is it?” she asked, her eyes shut tight against the morning sun.
    “It’s just me, which you could surely see if you’d come out from your hiding place,” Daisy grumbled, a hint of a smile in her voice.
    A bolt of pain shot through Madeline’s head. She moaned and rolled on her stomach, pulling the pillow over her head as if to block out the hideous picture of her mother kissing Lord Vale and appearing very much like she enjoyed his attentions. Vale had backed away quickly when he saw her, murmuring apologies, but her mother just stood beside him when Madeline ran weeping up the steps to her room.
    “Your mama asked me to bring you some tea. I’ll be thinkin’ you were a bit too upset last night, mistress. I ain’t seen you like that since your papa died.”
    The events of the evening came crashing in on Madeline . Mother is possessed by the weakness of her own heart. “Oh no. I so hoped I’d had a nightmare.”
    “Be no wonder if you did. Cried yerself to sleep, you did.” Daisy poured the tea, setting the tray on Madeline’s lap. “The tea’s hot, so don’t go spillin’ it all over you now. Eat the scone too; it’ll help yer poor head.”
    Madeline ignored her bossy manner. “How is Mother this morning?”
    “Your mama is whistlin’.”
    “Whistling?” Madeline carefully threw her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring