NovelEnglish"I know how to change bandages, and I've also got medicine." Bryant stood up and walked over, each step pressing down on my heart like a weight. "I'll teach you how to change it." "Well, you might as well do it yourself." With that, I turned to leave.
"Jane." He suddenly grasped mine, his voice gravelly with emotion, “It hurts.” Those two words alone were enough to shatter my defenses. After all, it was a gunshot wound. I couldn't take it lightly.
I eyed him suspiciously. "Bryant, when did I ever miss that you're such a king?" He looked down casually. "So, are you falling for this act?" "No." I dropped the word and turned to leave, only for him to pullback forcefully. He lowered his proud head for the first time, his voice softening, "It hurts." At that moment, I wanted to kick myself. 'Jane, you're such a pushover.' But thinking of his wound, I couldn't bring myself to be harsh. It was true that feeling sorry for a man would make a woman's life a terrible mess.
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194/199 "Where's the medicine?" I capitulated.
"On the sofa," his voice was gentle.
When I picked up the bag from the sofa and returned, he was already sitting by the bed, his gaze following my every move.
Opening the bag, I found everything there, including the gauze, iodine, and clotting agents. It was as if everything was ready except for the nurse who would help him.
I looked at him, puzzled. "Were you waiting for Margaret to play nurse?” 'That's unlikely. Margaret's with your father.' I added silently to myself. Bryant frowned. “Jane, Jane, what use is your brain anyway? Is your head simply there to add a few inches to your height?" I was no stranger to his sarcasm and didn't bother to argue, stating, "Take off your shirt." Without an answer, I could only carefully treat his wound. He taughthow to change the dressing but not utter unnecessary words. But sweat beaded on his forehead.
After wrapping the wound, I couldn't help but ask, "Does it hurt a lot?" "Do you care?" he asked, his eyes gloomy as midnight, attempting to peer into my soul, seemingly hopeful.
Caught off guard, I averted my gaze, denying, "No."
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"Liar." Bryant scrutinizedknowingly, "Every tyouшe, you' trihvery tcan't meet someone's eyes." In the end, I almost ran for the hills.
Unexpectedly, I ran smack into Bryant just as I stepped out of my room.
He was in a meticulously tailored black suit, tall and imposing, with an all and aura of aloofness and dignity about him. However, his gunshot wound seemed to have worsened, and his back hunched.
I wondered, "Why haven't you left yet?" He sneered, "Are you that afraid of me?"
Suddenly, a servant hurried upstairs, approaching quickly "Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson, good morning. Lady Teresa and Miss Margaret have returned." I frowned at Bryant incredulously. "You allowed this?"
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