Chapter Eight
Teddy dropped to the floor beside Ric. Heart in her throat, she ran her gaze over his motionless form. Eyes closed, his mouth was slack. Blood oozed through his shirt. He had reopened the wound on his chest. She reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. Rather than remove his bandages, she pressed the cloth against the top of the gauze. He moaned, and his eyelids fluttered.
She leaned toward him. “Be still. You fell off the desk and tore your stitches. I think you hit your head.”
He blinked then squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. His hands came up toward his chest, and she swatted them away. She continued to hold the pressure on the makeshift bandage.
“You're going to be all right. We're a far cry from the New Hampshire woods, but my first-aid train
