One Night for Love

in the darkness she could see the frown on his face.

Lily was never sure afterward if she heard a sound herself—a sound other than the distant noise of revelry. But certainly she was suddenly awash in that terrible dread again as he turned away from her to gaze into the trees at the other side of the path. She was not even sure afterward if she saw anything. She was not quite sure she had seen a figure in a dark cloak with a pointed pistol. Everything happened too fast.

Neville suddenly spun back toward her and whisked her around behind the tree, his own body between her and danger. The sound seemed to come after. The bullet had missed her, she thought as he pressed her painfully against the other side of the tree, his back against her, shielding her. But the noise of it still rang in her ears.

She felt suffocated. His hands were spread behind him, on either side of her body. She could scarcely breathe. Even so she welcomed the shield he had provided for her. Without it, she would disintegrate into mindless terror.

She could hear him breathing in heavy gasps that she knew he was trying to silence so that he would not betray their whereabouts. And she knew that she was an impediment to him. Without the necessity of protecting her, he could move, go in search of their assailant instead of waiting for him to find them.

It seemed that they stood there in unbearable tension for five minutes, even ten—probably, she thought afterward, it had been no longer than a minute or two. And then there was the sound of laughter fairly close and drawing closer and she knew with knee-weakening relief that someone was coming along the path—more than one person, in fact.

Actually it was four. As they came up to the tree and then passed it, Neville took her firmly by the hand and drew her out onto the path. They walked down it behind the two couples, who were so merrily foxed that they did not appear to notice that their numbers had been swelled.

'I am taking you back to Elizabeth,' Neville said, setting one arm about her when they reached the main avenue. 'And then I am going back to find the bast—' He cut off the word in time. He was breathing noisily.

But Lily, setting an arm firmly about his waist, fearing that she would collapse, suddenly became aware of something—something warm and wet and sticky.

'You have been hit,' she said. And then in utter panic: 'Neville, you have been shot!'

'It is nothing,' he said through teeth she knew he had gritted together. And he increased their pace.

But as they approached the box, he released his hold on her and half pushed her into a startled Elizabeth, who was standing outside the box with the Duke of Portfrey.

'Take her,' Neville said harshly. 'Get her out of here. Take her home.'

And he collapsed on the ground at their feet.

Chapter 22

When Neville came to himself, he was lying facedown on a bed that was not his own. His arms were spread to the sides and someone was hanging on tightly to each of his wrists. He was naked, he realized, at least from the waist up. And his right shoulder was hurting like a thousand devils.

He knew from past experience what was happening.

'The devil!' It was Joseph's voice—he was hanging on to the right wrist with a grip of steel. 'You could not have slept a few minutes longer, Nev? Enjoyed dreamland and all that?'

'You can let go your infernal grip on me,' Neville said. 'I am not going to struggle. Who is the sawbones?'

'Dr. Nightingale is my personal physician, Neville.' Elizabeth's voice, as he might have expected, was cool and sensible—no hysterics from her. 'The bullet is still in your shoulder.'

And Dr. Nightingale had already made a pass at removing it. That was what had brought him to, Neville realized, taking a firm grip on the edges of the mattress. He opened his eyes at the same moment. His head was turned to the left—it was Lily who was clinging to his left wrist.

'Get out of here,' he told her.

'No.'

'Wives are supposed to obey their husbands,' he said.

'You are not my husband.'

'And of course,' he said, 'you have seen far worse than this on the battlefield. This is nothing at all to you. Foolish of me to try to protect you from a massive fit of the vapors.'

'Yes,' she agreed.

The physician, far less deft at such a task than the army surgeons, came at him again then, trying to probe gently and causing prolonged and excruciating agony. Neville kept his eyes on Lily's until the pain threatened to get beyond him, and then he clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth hard.

'Ah,' Dr. Nightingale said at last, a note of satisfaction in the sound.

'Got it!' Joseph sounded breathless, as if he had just run a mile with a wild bull in hot pursuit. 'It is out, Nev.'

'And no damage to the bone or sinews from what I can see,' the doctor added. 'We will have you patched up in no time, my lord.'

The pain did not subside to any substantial degree. He felt submerged in it, peering out at reality from a long distance within it. But he knew as he opened his eyes again that Lily's hand had gone from his wrist and was somehow clasped in his own—crushed in his own. For a few moments longer his hand seemed locked in place, but gradually he relaxed it and set hers free. He saw with a curious detachment from deep inside himself that her fingers appeared white and tightly welded together, that for a short while she could neither move nor separate them. It was amazing he had not broken all of them, but she had not made a sound.

She turned away and then back again and he felt a cool, damp cloth against his hot face.