The Beloved One Read Online Free PDF Page A

end of us all!"
    "I am not . . . such a fool as that," he murmured thickly.  "But if you would be so kind . . . as to bring me a candle . . . I shall take great comfort in being able to see you."
    Amy exchanged glances with Will.  The candle was three feet away from his staring eyes.
    "You see, it is frightfully dark in here . . . and I . . . I am afraid . . . that your doctor cannot see what he's doing."
    Will blurted, "But the candle is —"
    Amy clapped her hand over Will's mouth and slowly shook her head from side to side, warning him not to say any more.
    "Don't worry, Charles," she said gently.  "When the doctor comes back, I'm sure he'll have a candle for you to see by."
    His hand found hers and pulled it down to his lips.  "You . . . my dear angel . . . are a great comfort to me."
    "Amy, quick, Plummer's coming back!" Will cried.
    "All right, let's get this over with," muttered the doctor, composed once more as he and Sylvanus strode back into the room.  "At this rate I'll be here 'til dinnertime."
    Amy pulled her hand from Charles's.  Then, with gentle pressure, she guided his head back to center so that his brow lay once more in the cradle of the pillow, which she adjusted so that he could breathe.  A redcoat.  Not just any redcoat, but an officer who was probably, judging by those beautifully groomed hands and the elegant cadences to his speech, a member of the upper ruling classes, no doubt with blood as blue as his eyes.  God help them!  What were they going to do?
    But injured though he was, he had enough presence of mind not to betray himself or the two youngest Leightons by speaking in front of Plummer — and for that Amy uttered a silent prayer of relief.  He didn't move a muscle as the doctor resumed stitching up the wound, merely suffering his fate with stoic resolve and never realizing that just above him, Amy was reliving that brief, desperate kiss that he had claimed.  He never saw her flushed cheeks, never knew that her tongue had come out to touch and taste the lips that he had mistakenly claimed.  And in that moment Amy, remembering his hard strength, the roughness of his cheek against her own, suddenly wished that she was the owner of the name he had uttered . . .
    Juliet.
    She was daydreaming again.  Mentally chastising herself as Plummer tied off the last stitch, Amy realized that the splendid body beneath her had relaxed, seeming to sink down into the table as the officer fell unconscious once more.
    His irrepressible strength had finally failed him.
    Two minutes later, it was all over, and the poor ravaged head was wrapped in a bandage and left to rest on the bloodstained pillow.  With a trembling sigh of relief, Amy bade Dr. Plummer goodbye and watched as Sylvanus walked him to the door, thanking him for his services and resting a hand on the doctor's shoulder.
    Then she turned to Will.
    "You, my brother, have some explaining to do," she murmured, and taking his arm, hustled him outside.
     
     

 
    Chapter 3
     
    From far, far away, Charles became aware of the smell of wood smoke, coming to him through the darkness in which he lay.  He wasn't sure if it was a dream or not.  It was a pleasant smell, maybe cherry, maybe apple they were burning, and he could hear the sizzling snap of the log, feel its warmth hot and dry against his face.
    Eyes shut, he lay there on his stomach facing the fire, floating in a state that wasn't quite sleep, wasn't quite wakefulness.  Back and forth between the two he drifted.  He sensed the passage of time, and people around him, and more time passing, and someone tending to him.  He slept.  He dreamed.  And eventually consciousness came within reach, teasing him with its elusiveness, flitting away, floating ever nearer until he was able to wade his way into the midst of it.
    "Billingshurst?" he whispered, calling for his batman.
    Silence.
    "Billingshurst . . . where are you?"
    But there was no Billingshurst, nothing familiar, no one here.