A Christmas Affair by Joan Overfield

fingers tightening about the doctor’s throat with deadly intent. “Do you hear me, you damned leech? Call off your orderly, or I’ll snap your neck in half.”
    Amanda knew then that he was beyond all reason, lost in the terror of his memories. “No . . . no amputation,” she gasped, praying he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t understand. “My word to you, sir. I won’t hurt you.”
    Justin continued glaring up at the face above his. It was growing fuzzy and indistinct, fading in and out with his consciousness. Even the voice was different; it sounded softer somehow, the rough tones giving way to gentle inflections. He loosened his grip slightly, too weary to go on fighting. In his mind he could still hear the screams of the wounded around him, and his stomach rolled at thestench of blood and sweat that filled his nostrils.
    “No amputation,” he repeated, his voice slurring as his arm dropped uselessly to his side. “If I die, I die a whole man. No . . .” his voice trailed off as he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
    “Are you all right, miss?” Williams had picked himself up from the floor and was hovering behind her anxiously. “The colonel didn’t hurt you, did he? He didn’t mean it, you know, he—”
    “I know,” Amanda interrupted, her voice somewhat hoarse as she rubbed her aching throat. The imprints left by Justin’s fingers stood out like a brand on her pale skin, and she knew they would doubtlessly bruise.
    “Poor lad.” Williams’ voice was also decidedly husky as he began bathing his employer’s face a gain. “Must have thought he was back in that hellish hospital after Vitoria. Those damned sawbones would as soon cut off a man’s arm as try to heal it, beggin’ your pardon, miss.” He flushed for using such strong talk in a lady’s presence.
    “No, I understand,” she said, forgetting her own discomfort as she gazed down at Justin. His features were more relaxed, and he looked as if he was merely sleeping. “I weep when I think of how he must have suffered,” she added, reaching out to brush back a lock of dark hair that had fallen across his broad forehead.
    “Aye, that he did,” Williams confirmed, his face growing grim as he remembered his frantic search for the colonel through the carnage of the battlefield. “By the time I found him in that filthy hospital tent, they had him half tied down, and he was holding them off with a knife. He threatened to . . . er . . . do the doctor an injury if the drunken fool didn’t back away. I got him out of there quick as I could, I can promise you.”
    “The physician was drunk?” Amanda was appalled.
    “No more than usual.” Williams shrugged his shoulders.“Happens sometimes. Army’s glad to take what they can get, even if it’s a broken-down old sot.”
    Amanda muttered a few choice words beneath her breath. Oh, to be a man, she thought with mounting indignation. If she were a man, she’d stand for Parliament, and once there she’d make quite sure her country’s soldiers received the care they deserved. How could a nation treat its heroes so? It was a disgrace.
    The candles beside the bed burned low in their holders, the flames fluttering and waving in the long hours that followed. Amanda changed positions with Williams, wiping Justin’s face, throat and hands with the damp cloth. She was dipping the cloth in the water when she noted the sweat beading his upper lip and forehead.
    Her hand shook with trepidation as she reached out to touch his face. The flesh beneath her fingertips was faintly damp with perspiration, and it was noticeably cooler than it had been only minutes before. Tears filled her eyes, and she allowed them to fall, so weak with relief that she was almost giddy. She must have made some sort of noise, for Williams gave a low cry of distress and bent closer.
    “The colonel!” he moaned in horror. “He’s not —”
    “No, no.” Amanda shook her head at him, her smile widening with