The Wild One

by Danelle Harmon

Chapter 2

  Will fled. Plummer wiped his brow and trudged off to tell Sylvanus the bad news.

  And Amy was left alone with Adam.

  She stood there with him for what seemed like a long time, her hands caught in his bloody hair, her palms still pressed to his ears as though she could keep the life from leaving him. As she stared down at his body, its fragile warmth still caught between her hands, its still face buried in her pillow, her throat closed on a harsh sob. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't, he was too young, too strong, too handsome —

  But he was.

  Gently turning his head and coming around to his side, she bent, bringing her cheek to his cheek, her temple to his temple, and let the tears come.

  And it was then, with her damp face pressed to his, that she felt the tremulous fluttering of a pulse, soft as a butterfly's wings, beating in his temple.

  She pulled back.

  "Adam?" she whispered, barely daring to speak.

  Another moment passed. And then his shoulders rose on an inhalation of Herculean proportions, rising up, up, up, only to settle back down on an equally huge exhalation.

  "Breathe, Adam! Oh, please, breathe!" And then, when he didn't, Amy put her lips next to his ear and yelled, straight into his head, "Breathe!"

  Adam breathed. Plummer came charging back in, Sylvanus right behind him. Seeing the rise and fall of Adam's shoulders, Plummer hurried forward, opening his bag as he went. Adam was coming back to life — literally — beneath Amy's bloodstained fingers. She returned to the head of the table, put her cheek next to his, and unable to contain her excitement, unable to stop the tears from coursing down her face, coached each slow, gathering breath by matching it to her own.

  "Breathe . . . breathe . . . breathe . . ."

  Each respiration was stronger than the last. Whispering words of encouragement, Amy stroked the sides of Adam's head with her thumbs, marvelling at the strength and will of a man who could come through what this one just had, and live. She looked up at the doctor and laughed with joy.

  "Oh, Dr. Plummer — you did it, he's breathing!"

  "We did it," he corrected with a wry smile, and reaching into his bag, extracted a handful of lint. He was just pulling off a wad of it when tremors began moving through Adam's body, ending in twitches of his fingers, a jerk of one leg.

  "What's wrong with him now?" Amy cried in alarm.

  "Nothing." The doctor smiled. "He's just waking up."

  "Waking up?"

  "Yes. Once I took the pressure off his brain by releasing the blood clot, it's only natural that he regain consciousness. That is, if God wanted him to live."

  "Obviously, God does want him to live!"

  A groan of pain came from deep within the pillow. Quickly, the doctor plugged the wound with lint and threaded his needle, preparing to stitch it shut. Adam was flexing his fingers now. Trying, weakly, to raise his head. Plummer pulled the wound shut, pinched it with one finger, and stabbed the needle through.

  Adam's whole body jerked, his hand flailing blindly before hitting Plummer's wrist with nearly enough force to break it. The needle went flying, only to be jerked back by the thread. Plummer let out a curse, and Adam began thrashing about.

  Amy couldn't hold him down.

  "Keep him still, Amy!"

  She threw her full weight across him, trying desperately to restrain him. He fell back to the table, struggling, as both Will and Sylvanus added their weight. Her heart pounding, Amy leaned down and put her lips against Adam's ear. "It's all right," she soothed. "You're going to be just fine, but you have to be still! We're not trying to hurt you. I know how frightened you must be, but the doctor must do this in order to save your life."

  A muffled groan came from deep within the pillow.

  "Dr. Plummer?"

  "What, Amy?"

  "He's suffocating; can we at least let him turn his head so he can breathe?"

  Plummer pushed back. "Aye, go on."

  Gently lifting Adam's head, Amy turned it so that his right cheek lay on the pillow. The pale blue eyes were wide and staring, the handsome face flushed and damp with sweat. "Just give him a moment," Amy pleaded, noting Plummer's impatient scowl. She dipped the rag in clean water and tenderly wiped Adam's cheek and brow. "That's not too much to ask, is it?"

  Plummer nodded his assent and allowed Sylvanus to draw him off into the parlor. No sooner had they left than Amy noticed Will, his face like paste, standing nearby.

  "Will, what is the matter?"

  "Nothing," he whispered, staring down at his friend. "Nothing a'tall."

  Amy gave him a sharp glance, then returned her attention to the man who lay on the table. "It's all right, Adam," she murmured, stroking the damp hair that still adorned all but the back of his head. "Just relax."

  Adam stared fixedly at the wall, his lips just grazing the bloodstained pillow. "Not Adam . . . Charles."

  It came out Chaaahles, on a deep and startlingly elegant drawl that left the "r" from the name and marked him as anything but the rebel they'd all assumed him to be.

  Amy's jaw dropped open and horrified, she whirled to stare at her brother. "He's a —"

  "Redcoat." Will went green and shot a terrified glance at the door through which the doctor had just passed. "An officer, if you must know." He hugged his arms to himself and stared at Amy, his lower lip thrust out, his eyes both fearful and defiant. He looked like the frightened child he was. "What would you have me do, leave him out in a field to die?"

  Amy, paling, grabbed Will by the sleeve. "Do you realize what you've done?"

  Will looked as though he were about to cry. "Now you know why I was half-hoping he wouldn't make it."

  "Why on earth did you bring him home?"

  "I felt guilty."

  "For heaven's sake, Will!"

  Beneath them, the officer lay quietly on the table. In despair, Amy realized he must've heard every word — and known they were his enemy, long before they could say the same about him. Lying gravely wounded and separated from his countrymen, his army, and everything familiar to him, helpless and at the mercy of the very people who'd declared themselves to be his enemy, he must be terrified. Waking up to what he had, he probably thought they were practicing some wicked torture on him.

  She touched his brow and gently smoothed his hair back. "Charles."

  "Oh, Juliet, forgive me," he whispered — and hooking an arm around Amy's neck, pulled her roughly down against him. Caught off balance and completely off guard, Amy all but tumbled across his chest. As she flung out an arm to stop her fall, his lips found hers, and in the next moment, he was kissing her with a desperate passion, one arm locked around her back like a vise.

  Will ripped her from his embrace. "Don't you touch my sister, you damned lobsterback, you!"

  "Will!" Amy cried. "Can't you see he's mistaken me for someone else? Leave him be, he's clearly out of his head!"

  "Juliet . . ." The officer sounded confused, groggy, his voice rising in worry. "Juliet, where am I?"

  With a nervous glance toward the door, Amy leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Listen —" Her cheeks were flushed, her pulse pounding madly; heaven help her, her legs were weaker now than they'd been all during the surgery! "I don't know who this Juliet is, but I'm not her. I'm Amy. Amy. Can you understand that?"

  He hesitated. "Amy?"

  "Yes, Amy. Now listen to me. We're rebels and you're a king's officer, and you must say nothing to the doctor about who you are or it'll be the 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 W
ill'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.