Don’t tear the trousers. I’ve only a couple pair left after Wyldhurst tore the ones I wore for your wedding.” “Then take them off.” Harry shrugged. “Not with your wife in the room,” Micah shook his head adamantly. “Then,” Harry tore the fabric of Micah’s trousers, “we’ll have to tear your trousers, Micah, for my wife insists on making certain you have not caused more harm to yourself after you saved her from danger. For which I owe you a great debt, by the way. Thank you, Micah. I shall purchase a new pair of trousers for you.” “Micah sighed. “You’re welcome, Harry. This really isn’t necessary. I’m fine. I just tore a couple of stitches.” “It is necessary, Micah, because my lovely wife will not let it rest until she is certain you are unharmed,” Harry said pointedly. “Very well. Proceed, Rowena,” Micah surrendered. “I wish we had water to clean his leg. Harry, I shall run to the kitchen and set a pot to boil…” “No, Rowena.
