“I don’t understand.” I folded my hands on my midsection, watching him watch Flemming. “You punched my face, tossed me off your balcony, shredded my wrists, bruised my arse and other unmentionables. Yet you’re concerned about a gash on my foot?”

That brought his gaze to mine.

“I control the pain I inflict. I know where and how hard to strike to avoid permanent damage. But this…” He motioned toward my feet. “I can’t control infection should it decide to attack and contaminate your body.”

Flemming kept his gaze on his work, pretending to ignore us.

“I should have located boots for you.” Ashley ran a hand through his wet hair. “I should have ensured the deck was safe.”

“I don’t see how any of that matters,” I muttered. “You intend to see me hang.”

“I intend to see you stand trial.”

Same thing. But arguing the particulars wouldn’t change the outcome.

“The wound is clean, my lord.” Flemming shifted. “But it requires stitches.”

“Do what is needed, Lieutenant.”

With a needle and thread, the doctor began the painful task of closing up the bottom of my foot. The skin was so tender along the arch that every stab made my teeth clamp together. Muscles contracted without my permission, and I couldn’t stop my body from jerking and bowing off the table.

Ashley bent over me, blocking my view of the attacking needle. Blue eyes pinned mine, and his hand sank into my hair, smoothing out the damp coils.

“Lieutenant Flemming revived you the day we pulled you from the sea.” He ran a finger along my temple and down my cheek. “You weren’t breathing.”

I was barely breathing now with his insufferably gorgeous face so close to mine.

“We debated the method of resuscitation.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I decided the best way to stimulate you was by inserting a pair of bellows into your rectum and thereby fumigating your insides with tobacco smoke.”

“Oh, for the love of God.” My entire body cringed.

Blowing smoke up the arse of the suddenly apparently dead was a treatment I’d seen too many times. It never worked as far as I could tell. So how was I alive?

Ashley drew his bottom lip between his teeth, and that unholy gesture made my stomach dip. Did my eyes deceive me, or was he fighting a smile?

A muffled chuckle drifted from Flemming.

I craned my neck and glimpsed the doctor barely containing his grin.

“You’re jesting?” My mouth dropped open as I looked back at Ashley. “You made an actual joke? To excite laughter?”

“You’re not laughing.”

“I’m too shocked to do anything at the moment.”

“That’s good.”

“Why?”

“All done, my lord.” Flemming stood and gathered his tools. “Keep the foot elevated for a time.”