Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,27

in the least.”

He slid the waistcoat off and then removed the shirt, unsticking it from the wound with a quick yank and a stifled curse.

Sam looked away, covering her mouth to hold back a cry. There was so much blood! A wave of dizziness made the forest tilt crazily for a second. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took several quick, shallow gasps of air.

“You’re not going to faint on me, are you?” he asked over his shoulder.

“No,” she insisted.

“Then hurry up and get on with it.” He stretched out on his stomach, bunching up his shirt and using it as a pillow on his crossed arms. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed a stick from the forest floor and placed it between his teeth.

Sam’s mouth felt dry as she looked down at her stoic patient. But when she tried to move into position, the chain jerked taut. “I can’t reach it from here. The chain isn’t long enough.”

He bent his right leg, allowing enough slack for her to get closer.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she inched nearer and sat at his side. Determined to prove that she wasn’t the weak, witless female he seemed to believe, she screwed up her courage and lifted the knife.

But when she bent over the wound, she couldn’t go on. It was an actual hole, small and perfectly round, just to one side of his shoulder blade. “It... it looks deep. And... w-we don’t have anything to dull the pain.”

He spat out the stick. “I’d love nothing better than a nice bottle of rum right now. Do you see a pub anywhere?” His voice had taken on a flat weariness, as if he didn’t have much strength left. “Just get it over with, your ladyship.”

“But I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

“A piece of lead. Shouldn’t be hard to find.” He put the stick back between his teeth, talking around it. “The bone’ll be white.”

Another wave of dizziness assaulted her. He didn’t say anything more. Just turned his head and closed his eyes, his muscles taut with strain.

Steeling herself, she lifted the knife again, whispering a prayer, despite what he’d said earlier.

Then she gingerly went to work.

Chapter 7

He had fainted. Sam tossed the metal fragment aside with a shudder and dropped the knife into the leaves. His entire body had gone slack when she finally got the bullet out.

“Thank God,” she whispered. How could anyone endure what he had just endured? She had tried to be as quick as possible, and the bullet hadn’t been as deep as she’d feared at first, but it had still taken her an agonizingly long time.

Her head swam dizzily, her empty stomach heaved, and she felt as if she might faint herself. She had managed to brazen her way through the frightful task, but now that it was over, all the strength and resolve flowed out of her, leaving her trembling like one of the branches that swayed overhead.

She felt around for the scrap of her petticoat she had used to clean the knife, snatched it up, and wiped her hands on it. She bit her tongue to distract herself from the rush of nausea. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

His voice was so soft she barely heard it. She went still, stunned that he was still conscious. Then she had to think for a moment, not sure what she had said.

“Sorry for hurting you,” she managed at last.

His battered left eye flickered open and a weak version of his cynical grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not the... first female to... lay into me with a blade, angel,” he whispered.

Closing his eyes again, he lay very still.

She set the scrap of fabric aside, still trembling, unsure what to make of his comment. Or his condition. He must be in terrible pain. Despite the way he had remained stoic and unflinching throughout the ordeal, his muscles taut, he had groaned once or twice—and toward the end, he had snapped the slender branch between his teeth. Cleanly in two.

But from the marks on his back, it was obvious he had indeed encountered other blades in his life. And perhaps bullets as well. Looking down at his prone form in the late afternoon sunlight, she could see many scars, pale against the deep bronze of his skin.

Including row after row of long, thin marks straight across his back. Perhaps she was mistaken, but it looked as if those had been caused by a lash. They lay beneath some of the others,