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“Alive,” he said firmly.
Her eyelids closed with relief, but the tears still seeped from beneath them.
He gripped the bottle of antiseptic. “Tony, this will hurt like hell.”
She raised her lashes to look at him. It told him plainly he could not hurt her more than he already had. She did not even cry out as he flooded her torn skin with the antiseptic, but he saw her bite her lips until they were blood raw as he coated her with the ointment, then bound her.
When her eyes finally closed in blessed drugged sleep he called in the guard from the verandah. “I want you to ride over to Government House with a note.” Savage scribbled the words quickly. They were brief and to the point.Both twins are hurt. Come immediately. Bring the chaplain.
Savage stared curiously at the face before him. The resemblance to Antonia was uncanny, yet the jaw of the young man clearly sprouted dark whiskers. The infirmary team had stripped the wounded man to the waist and thoroughly cleansed both him and his wound. He lay on spotless linen, his lips and face pale beneath the tan.
“He is shot, sahib.”
“I know that, Adjit. Did you remove the bullet?”
“We dare not, sahib. You ordered us to keep him alive. You are bleeding. We must tend your wounds.”
“Just scratches,” he insisted. Savage lifted the gauze pad to inspect the wound. He doubted it had touched Anthony’s heart or lungs. If it had, the rough ride across the saddle would have finished him. Savage probed the oozing hole with his finger. He felt nothing and probed deeper. At last he made contact with the lead ball. It was imbedded in the pectoral muscle, which may have prevented any bones from being shattered.
Adam decided against using his knife, but worked away with his finger until he was able to dislodge it and pop it out. The blood welled up afresh in crimson profusion. He covered it with a clean pad of gauze and pressed his whole weight down on it. Suddenly he found himself gazing into wide green eyes fringed with black lashes.
“Are you trying to kill me or cure me?” Anthony gasped with humor.
“You’ve as many lives as your sister, I think,” Savage said with heartfelt relief.
Anthony closed his eyes from the pain, then opened them again after a minute. “You know my sister?” His look was quizzical.
“I do. I’m Adam Savage.”
“My guardian?” he asked incredulously, once more gasping at the pain.
Savage nodded. “Soon to be your brother-in-law.”
Anthony laughed, then grimaced. “Christ, that hurts!”
“I just took a bullet out of you.”
“That bastard shot me!” Everything suddenly came back to him.
“That’s what I call him, Bernard the Bastard. I think the bleeding has settled down enough to bind you up, but I want your pledge you’ll lie quiet. If you don’t, you’ll set it off again. I can’t waste any more time playing nursemaid. Your cousin has put the torch to my tea factory and my precious bushes.”
Anthony was horrified. “I’ll kill the son of a bitch!”
“You will lie quiet. I give the orders here.” He turned to Akbar. “You’d better prepare some burn dressings. Casualties from the fire will be arriving any minute.”
They heard voices. Anthony said, “I think I’m hallucinating. I just heard Mr. Burke.”
Savage nodded. “Roz is here too. You’ll be in safe hands.”
He met them in the spacious living room. Their faces were ashen. He reassured them immediately. “They will both recover. Antonia was clawed by a leopard. I’ve dressed her wounds and given her a sleeping draft. I?m afraid Anthony was shot, but he’s awake and quite lucid. He’s back in the infirmary.”
“When your note asked for the chaplain we thought someone was dying,” Eve gasped.
“I’m sorry.” Savage turned to the churchman. “I sent for you to solemnize a marriage, but it must wait. Leopard’s Leap is ablaze.”
Bernard Lamb was almost delirious with joy as he stood in the shadows of a banyan tree watching the brilliant display before him. The flames would lick teasingly at a tea bush, then suddenly, when he thought it would never catch fire, it would blaze up in a frenzy. One sizzling fireball after another, spreading steadily outward and upward. The stupid wogs were so busy wailing and running about like ants in a futile attempt to save the precious tea bushes, he was able to climb to the second story of the tea factory to set his next fire.
He almost lingered up there too long, mesmerized by the flames and the smells he was creating. It was better than the pyrotechnical display at Vauxhall Gardens.
