She fell to her knees beside him and tried to loosen the collar of his jacket. “Don't just stand there,” she cried out as several couples milled around. “Get a doctor someone. He's sick.”
His whole body convulsed, the sweating more profuse, and he muttered incoherently.
“Just look at him?” a woman complained from close by. “He's drunk. Forced their way in here uninvited, it's disgusting.”
“Can't hold his drink,” another voice condemned.
“Please someone, find a doctor.” Tommy's voice turned shrill with fear.
“The Imdi are coming.” David moaned and threshed about.
“What's going on here?”
Blinking back tears, she stared into Adam Munro's smoky gray eyes.
“Please, Adam, find a doctor.” Her gaze pleaded with him for help. “He's sick. He's got some kind of fever.”
“Get the lids off those ammunition boxes. The Imdi are overrunning us.” David raved deliriously as Adam held him down with one hand, and loosened the tunic with the other.
“I hope he’ll be all right,” Tommy said.
“Move away all of you. Someone get Dr. Brannigan, I saw him out on the verandah.” Adam issued his orders in a clipped, authoritative voice that brooked no argument.
Tommy clung to David's hand. “He isn't going to die is he?” Her voice came out in a tortured whisper, and a single tear ran unchecked down her cheek. “It's my fault, I made him come. He wasn't well, but I insisted.”
“Pull yourself together. You can't help him by getting yourself in a state. If he felt sick he should have stayed home.”
“They're butchering us, use your bayonet.” David struggled to get up. “Let me go. I have to save my men.”
“Lie still.” Adam pushed him back on the floor, keeping him pinned there by the shoulders.
An elderly man in a black frock coat forced his way through the milling onlookers. “What's going on here?”
“How do I know, Doc? Young fool's drunk, I suppose,” Adam said.
“He isn't drunk. He's got some kind of fever, doctor. Will he be all right?” Tommy wrung her hands in anguish. This was all her fault. She shouldn’t have insisted on coming to the ball. What if something happened to him? What would become of her and Jamie?
“Won't know until I examine him. Are you his wife?”
“I'm his sister.”
“Give me a hand, Adam, so we can get him out of here.”
Adam beckoned one of the waiters over and between the three of them they carried David out of the room. She followed them down a passageway, past several closed doors until they came to a guest bedroom. They laid David on the bed, and the servant departed.
“You better stay here, Adam, in case I need help,” the doctor said.
David lay quietly now. Somehow this seemed even more frightening as she watched the doctor bending over his prostrate form. Adam stood at one side of the bed watching, his tanned features grim and forbidding, as the doctor unbuttoned David’s uniform jacket and shirt.
“My God, look at this.” Both men leaned over the bed. “I haven't seen such severe wounds since the Crimean war.”
She couldn’t move because her limbs had frozen. As Adam straightened up she noticed his usually brown skin was bleached of color.
“Is he all right?” David lay so still she thought he must be dead.
“What happened to him, Miss?”
“He got wounded in the Zulu uprising then he caught some kind of fever.”
“I thought as much.”
“Will he be all right now, Doc?” Adam asked.
“The boy needs rest. His wounds aren't all physical, you know. Scars on the body can heal quicker than those on the mind.”
“You mean he's losing his mind?” Tommy swayed, and would have fallen if Adam hadn’t caught her.
“You aren't going to faint, are you?” He held her upper arms in a surprisingly gentle grip. His warm breath, carrying just the faintest hint of alcohol, fanned her icy cheeks.
“She shouldn’t be the type to have a fit of the vapors,” the doctor said gruffly. “We English always keep a stiff upper lip in a crisis. I've given your brother something to settle him down.”
“When can we go home?”
“Give him an hour, then if someone can help you with him, there's no reason why he can't be moved. You must understand he's far from strong yet.” The doctor stared intently at her. “His wounds are healing quite well. Apart from the fever, I think he's suffering from nervous exhaustion more than anything else. I served as an army doctor in the Crimean war, my dear, so I've seen plenty of similar cases; only time can cure him.”
“Thank you, doctor. What do we owe you? I don't have any money on me at the moment but…”
“No charge, my dear.”
“But…”
“No ‘buts,’ just an old army doctor treating a wounded soldier. I'm off now. Can you arrange for someone to help her get him home, Adam?”
“I'll see to it.” Adam escorted the doctor to the door. The two men conversed together for a few minutes. David slept now, she noticed with relief, his breathing no longer harsh and ragged.
Adam returned to her side. “He seems much easier.”
“Yes, thank you for your help.”
He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. “Stay here. I'll see about arranging Miss Bothroyd's transport home then I'll help you with him.”
“I couldn't let you do that.” She gnawed her bottom lip. “I mean, you've done a great deal already. I couldn't impose upon your kindness any further.”
“It wasn't kindness, just a case of necessity.”
She felt as if he had slapped her across the face.
“Can you get him home on your own, Tommy?”
“No.”
“Well, I'll be back in an hour to help you. I never start anything I don't intend finishing.” With these abrupt words he left the room.
Quietness descended; only the muted sound of music drifted in through the closed door. The drapes were of heavy velvet in some dark brown color. Even though the window stood open, nothing stirred in the stillness. Twinkling stars lit the darkness of the night, bathing the garden in translucent silver.
How could she have been so selfish? What was a ball compared to her brother's health? She shut her eyes, trying to stop the tears from slipping between her closed lids.
“Your brother, is he all right?”
Tommy jumped when Adam spoke near her shoulder.
She turned around and heard him catch his breath.
“Do you think we could go home soon?” She scrubbed the tears away with her knuckles, too distraught to care whether he thought her weak.
“Yes, we can leave in a few minutes. He started to stir when I entered the room.”
They both leaned over the bed, and she realized that David was indeed awake, his eyes puzzled as they took in the strange surroundings.
“What happened? I must have blacked out.”
“You frightened me.”
“What an ass I must have made of myself.” He tried to rise.
“Lie still for a moment,” Adam ordered. “Raise yourself slowly. If you feel up to it we can get you home.”
“Have you made arrangements for Miss Bothroyd?” Tommy couldn’t care less about Sophia, but felt duty bound to at least pretend interest in her welfare.
“Yes, her father will take her home.”
David levered himself into a sitting position. “Where's my jacket?”
“Here it is; the doctor took it off while he examined you.”
“I do remember, I think.” David ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought your hands felt a bit rough, sis.” He swayed like a drunk when he stood up, and she rushed over so he could lean on her.
“I'm as weak as a kitten.”
“Here, rest your weight on me.” Adam came up. “You open the doors,” he directed Tommy. “We'll take him out by the side entrance. I got a groom to bring your…c
arriage, around the back.”
“How did you know which one belonged to us?”
“Simple; I only saw one buggy parked in the drive, so I guessed it had to be yours.”
“Not everyone can afford a fancy carriage.”
“You obviously can't.”
They lapsed into silence. She sensed a hidden anger in Adam, probably furious because she upset his night. They left the building and came to the buggy. He helped David up before assisting her.
“Better if you sit in the middle, Lindsay, in case you black out again.”
“I'm sorry about this, Munro.”
“It can't be helped, it wasn't your fault.”
He's blaming me. Why did her presence always incite him to anger? They did not speak again. David slumped against her, and she clasped his hand as Adam drove at a steady pace, staring straight ahead.
Night birds called out to each other. The distant, mournful howl of a wild dog raised the fine hairs at the back of her neck. She never dreamed it possible for a night to be so black. Even though the stars shone in bright perfusion, the trees and bush growing right up to the road closed in menacingly around them.
When they arrived at the homestead, Adam helped David down before giving Tommy his hand so she could alight also.
“You all right, Lindsay?”
David swayed like a drunken man. “I'm just tired now.”
“You're still under the influence of Doc Brannigan's draught. Once you're in bed, you should sleep for hours.”
Tommy held the door open for them.
“Where's his room, I'll help him get undressed.”
“I feel so weak; imagine having to be put to bed like a truculent baby.”
“Down here, Mr. Munro.” Tommy became formal again. She opened the door to her brother's room and stepped back to allow them entry. “Would you like some tea, David?”
“No thanks. What about you, Munro?”
Adam glanced up at her and frowned. “Yes, make some tea, Miss Lindsay.”
The tea was drawing in the pot when he returned to the parlor. He waited for her to sit down before doing likewise himself.
“How do you take it?”
“Black, one sugar, thank you.”
She poured the tea into her best Wedgewood cups, but her hand shook so much some of it slopped into the saucer. “Sorry.”
“Do you have any brandy in the house?”
“No. I can only offer you tea; neither of us drinks alcohol.”
“Not for me, for you, to settle your nerves.”
Her lips trembled and she fought back tears. Why get emotional now?
His mouth tightened. “Everyone should keep some brandy in the house. Are you Quakers or something?”
“No, Church of England. What is your religion?”
“None of your business, unless…” he snapped his fingers and gave a mocking grin, “you’ve got marriage on your mind.”
“Marry you? Never.” She started trembling as shock from the trauma of the last few hours hit her with the force of a tornado. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she tried to blink them away.
“Oh, for goodness sake, I’m only taunting you. Stop weeping. I can't bear watching women cry.”
She rose from the table to escape his scrutiny and in her distressed state tripped over the mat. He dived out of his chair and caught her in his arms.
He held her for a moment, pressing her face against his chest, while she sobbed into the soft fabric of his shirt. His fingers running over her hair were a gentle soothing caress. His breath, smelling faintly of whisky, fanned the side of her face. Suddenly he let her go.
“Here, dry your eyes.” He thrust a white linen handkerchief into her hand and put a couple of yards between them. “Where's Jamie?”
“Jim and Mary Cavendish are minding him.”
“I'll pick him up tomorrow. I have to go near their place to check on some stock, so I'll drop your buggy off on my way past. I'll have to use it tonight to travel home.”
“I don't know how to thank you for everything you did tonight.”
“Oh, I could think of a way,” he whispered, and the smile he bestowed on her softened the hard planes of his face and did funny things to her heart.
****
With every stride towards the buggy, where the drowsy horse waited, Adam’s rage intensified. He vaulted up and slapped the horse’s rump several times in quick succession. Good thing there wasn’t a whip, or he might have been tempted to lay it across the unfortunate animal's back.
Why he felt so enraged he didn’t know. Of course, those Lindsay's ruined all his plans. Hadn't he almost made up his mind to speak with Sophia's father? It would have been a nice touch, announcing their betrothal at the ball.
He ground his teeth when he thought of David Lindsay. Young fool, imagine going to a ball in his condition. Tommy must have nagged the poor devil until he gave in just for the sake of peace and quiet.
He had been shocked when the doctor took young Lindsay's jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt. Several long, ragged scars crisscrossed his chest. Any wonder the poor devil limped if his leg was as mangled as his chest. He could not be more than twenty-two or so, a mere boy, yet he held the rank of captain. These weren’t simple farm folk. Jamie said his brother went to Eton; he could well believe it now.
He admired pretty women, and Tommy Lindsay was exquisite. His heartbeats had quickened when she made her grand entrance at the ball. She swept in like a queen, and every other woman in the room paled into insignificance.
The night was black, but nowhere near as dark as he felt.
When he remembered young Lindsay tossing and turning, racked with the turmoil a man who had never been in battle could not understand, he felt something akin to shame. He deliberately set out to turn the townsfolk against him, intimidated, threatened retribution on any man who mated his mare with the Lindsay stallion.
He didn’t like feeling guilty. All his adult life he had been as ruthless as his father before him; one had to be, to hold on to such a large property. He would fight to the death, if necessary, to hold on to the legacy forged through the hard work and sacrifice of his forebears.
Normally he was not a vindictive man, and believed David could be persuaded to sell. The fact he might be taking advantage of a sick man bothered him, but he needed the Lindsay water if his stock were to survive a prolonged drought. Tommy was the one fighting him. David’s fighting days had ended. He gave a savage curse. This was war, between her and him, and he intended coming out victorious.
When she argued and defied him it proved easy, but those big blue eyes swimming in tears affected him even more than the milky white bare flesh around her shoulders. Her skin, perfumed with just the faintest hint of flowers filled his nostrils. Her hair shone like polished gold. He had never seen such a vibrant color on a woman before.
He clenched the reins so hard the horse snorted in protest until he loosened his grip. He tried to calm himself by thinking of Sophia. She would make him a suitable wife. Those extra acres she brought into the marriage would come in handy. He must keep this fixed in his mind and if he valued his sanity, he wouldn’t come within a fifty-mile radius of Tommy Lindsay. She was dangerous and made him feel things he didn’t want to feel.
****
When Tommy went to check on David the next morning, he slept peacefully.
She fed Warrior, milked the house cow and made some butter. It promised to be another scorcher so she wanted all the outside work completed early.
The buggy had been left out the front, the horse released into one of the holding yards. What time Adam had arrived here she couldn’t even hazard a guess, as the stress of last night caused her to oversleep.
Before she woke David, she decided to make some bread. The yeast had been prepared the previous day, following the instructions their housekeeper imparted years ago. There was another way of making yeast, although she preferred the recipe containing flour, brown sugar, salt
and water. Her bread was a source of pride as the loaves always rose and had crisp brown crusts.
David slept until noon. On waking he seemed none the worse for his ordeal. Once he got dressed he showed no signs of distress, except for a slight pallor. They ate their meal, cold mutton and warm bread, spread with freshly churned butter.
“I can’t help worrying about Jamie. He should have been back by now.” Her hands fluttered at her breast.
“Don’t fuss, Munro will take good care of him. I think the squatter has a soft spot for our little brother.”
“It would be the only soft thing about him.” She banged her cup on the table.
“He doesn't seem such a bad type. We owe him for last night.”
“I know, and I hate being in his debt. This is the second time he’s helped us out.”
When Tommy thought of the exhibition she made of herself weeping all over him, she wanted to scream. So, he had been kind. She had watched his eyes darken with shock then widen with genuine concern when he saw David’s wounds. She dared not let her guard down because she felt so vulnerable in his presence. Why hadn’t they met under different circumstances?
“I might fix those shingles on the barn,” David announced, as he stood up.
“Don't be ridiculous, the doctor instructed you to rest.”
“It needs doing. Those wretched birds are getting through the hole and devouring all our seed.”
“Wait until tomorrow; one more day won't make much difference.”
He thrust his jaw out. She found it useless arguing with him when he set his mind on something. He could be so stubborn and pig-headed. Back in the kitchen she mixed up the ingredients for a currant cake. By the banging and hammering David had started working on the roof. Going outside, she watched with trepidation from the verandah as he wielded the hammer. As a boy he had always professed an interest in carpentry, but their father had an army career mapped out for him.
“Tommy, Tommy.” She swung around on hearing Jamie’s excited voice. He rode up in front of Adam on a large chestnut. He waved enthusiastically on seeing her.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Munro.”
Adam dismounted before lifting Jamie down. “Good afternoon, Miss Lindsay.”
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