by Sarah Winn
By the time, they were once again underway, Mrs. Moore, with Alice peeping over her shoulder, was standing in the doorway from the kitchen. There was another inquiry about what had happened and another explanation. “He’ll need liniment,” Mrs. Moore concluded.
“I’ll get it,” Alice volunteered and ran back into the kitchen.
Looking ahead Gerald saw Ellen and Toby emerge from the back staircase. They must have seen the parade approaching the house from a rear window. Ellen had a hand on Toby’s shoulder to hold him back. The boy looked on the verge of tears as he stared at Gerald, so Gerald forced a brief smile and said, “I’m not seriously hurt, Toby. Just twisted my knee.”
Ellen moved herself and the boy away from the entrance to the staircase. The three men stopped and stared up. Gerald had never thought the staircase narrow before, but in this circumstance, he could easily see it would be a tight squeeze for three men moving abreast.
“Maybe I can hold on to the railing,” Gerald suggested.
Mr. Sam shook his head. “I think we better go around to the front stairs. They’re wider. We can carry you up those.”
Gerald started to protest, but the older man spoke over him in an angry tone. “You ain’t hopping up a full set of stairs.”
What’s he angry about?
Alice ran out of the kitchen holding a glass bottle with a cork stopper in it. “I found the liniment.”
“Give it to Mrs. Osborne,” Mrs. Moore said. “She’ll have to apply it.”
Ellen shot the woman a glance that seemed hostile, but then said, “Yes, I’ll do it.”
Gerald couldn’t see Mrs. Moore but she replied in a voice that sounded almost jocular. “And I’ll keep the boy down here. Out of the way. Alice, you fetch up some hot water for compresses and such.”
Ellen gave Toby a gentle shove toward the cook, took the bottle from Alice, and said, “I’ll go ahead and turn down the bed while you men get Mr. Osborne up the stairs.” With a swish of her skirts, she turned and started up.
Gerald didn’t know how he felt about Ellen nursing him in his bedroom, but he didn’t have long to dwell on the matter, for Mr. Sam pulled on him and started the trip to the front stairway. The hallway from the back of the house to the entry hall had never seemed so long before, and then, to make things worse, Mr. Sam absolutely insisted that he and Jim cross arms behind Gerald’s back and under his thighs and carry Gerald up the stairs.
At least Ellen’s not here to see this.
He was again hobbling between the two men when they reached his bedroom. The freshly turned down bed called to him. Ellen busied herself at the wash stand as the men helped Gerald to the side of the bed. He sat down with a long sigh, and Jim knelt in front of him to take off his boots. When he started pulling on the boot on the injured leg, Gerald grimaced and fought to stifle a moan. Mr. Sam started unbuttoning his shirt.
Alice arrived just then carrying a pitcher of steaming water. She paused in the doorway with her usual timid air, and Ellen hurried over to take the pitcher and thank her for bringing it. Alice asked if Ellen needed anything else, and after Ellen shook her head, the maid promptly left the room.
At least there wouldn’t be two women watching him undress.
Realizing there was no way Ellen could put liniment on his knee until he had removed his trousers, Gerald unbuttoned them after Mr. Sam had eased his shirt off his left shoulder and arm. The three men went through a clumsy maneuver to get his trousers down and off his feet. Then Gerald quickly swung his legs up and under the bed sheet.
Mr. Samuels said, “Let’s get that arm off.”
“No!” Gerald snapped. Then he softened his voice as he said, “I can do it later.”
From across the room, he heard Ellen say, “Nonsense! You can’t rest comfortably with that on.”
She had never seen him without the artificial arm, and he did not want her to see him now, but she pushed her way between Mr. Samuel and Jim and stood looking down at him. He opened his mouth to send her away, but then thought of the two men who were also staring down at him. They would think a wife assisting her husband with such a task the most natural thing in the world, so he shut his mouth.
She leaned over him, quickly examined the straps that connected the arm to his body, and decisively reached to undo the buckle in the center of his chest. As the strap came undone, she gasped and blinked her eyes swiftly. Then her cool fingers lightly trailed across the red impression the strap always left on his skin.
Was she feeling sympathy or disgust?
Mr. Sam gently pushed her aside as he said, “Let me get the arm, missus.”
Gerald’s heart thudded and he kept his eyes fastened on Ellen’s face while Mr. Sam slipped the strap from over his shoulder and pulled the leather arm away from the stump. She frankly stared at the process, but she did not look horrified. For the first time since he had awakened in the army hospital without an arm, Gerald felt gratitude toward the surgeons who had neatly stitched the skin down over the bone that ended a couple inches above where the elbow should have been.
In a matter-of-fact voice, she said, “It’s a good thing Alice brought hot water. You can use a wash.” She turned back to the washstand and began to pour water and assemble towels.
“Can I go back to the stable now?” Jim asked.
Gerald had forgotten the young man was still in the room. “Please do. Tully needs help getting the horses back in their stalls.”
The young stableman left, but Mr. Sam remained in the room staring down at Gerald with an irritated expression.
What’s put a burr under his blanket?
Ellen came back to the bedside and carefully folded the sheet back to expose Gerald’s injured knee. “This is a little swollen, perhaps a cool cloth will be better than a hot one.” She moved back to the washstand.
Mr. Sam cleared his throat. “You told me to watch what was going on with the horses and tell you if anybody was doing anything wrong. Well, you are.”
“We’ll talk about this later.” Gerald had no idea what the old man was talking about, but he strongly suspected he would not want Ellen to hear it.
“No,” Mr. Sam said. “Your missus needs to know what’s going on. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”
Gerald glared at the older man and pressed his lips tightly together.
Ellen had turned and was staring at the two men.
Mr. Sam took a deep breath. “It’s that leather arm. It moves back and forth when you’re mounting and dismounting and distracts the horses. This isn’t the first time a horse has shied on you while dismounting, but this time you didn’t get your foot out of the stirrup quick enough.”
“So, what are you suggesting I do, old man?” Gerald made no effort to hide his anger.
“Leave that damn leather contraption in the closet the next time you come to the stable.” Mr. Sam stomped out of the room.
Gerald stared up at the ceiling as fear replaced his anger. Was the old man right? Gerald had always said Mr. Sam knew more about riding horses than anyone he had ever met. But if the leather arm was in fact causing the horses to shy with him, what would he do? He needed the artificial hand to hold the reins when mounting and dismounting. He’d never ridden any horse without the arm, except Phantom, and he and Phantom had been together so long that the horse would tolerate almost anything from Gerald.
Had he been kidding himself once again about his prospects for making a life for himself through horses? When he had to give up the life he’d always wanted in the cavalry, he had turned to running a riding academy. After that failed, he’d turned to training hunters. Had he been trading one impossible dream for another?
He startled as something cool and wet touched his knee. Ellen had placed a damp cloth over it. “I hope that doesn’t hurt,” she said.
“No. It feels good.”
She lifted another cloth from the washbasin she had placed on the table beside the bed. “While that’s working, why don’t I give you a quick wash
? That might make you feel more relaxed.”
Any other time he would have objected to her lavishing such care on him, but in his current state of despair, he laid there like a complete invalid and let her wash and rinse and pat his skin dry. As she worked, she leaned over him with a serene expression. She even washed his stump with no sign of repulsion. Did she not understand what Mr. Sam’s pronouncement had meant, or did she simply not care?
When she had finished washing and drying the upper half of his body. She put the towel aside and then removed the cloth from his knee. “I’ll put the liniment on now.”
She poured a dollop of the liquid into the palm of her hand and moved down to lean over his leg. As she rubbed her hands together the tangy odor of witch-hazel wafted about her. With a look of true concern on her face, she began to lightly touch his knee. Her bent position had caused her breasts to form a valley of flesh in the v-shaped neckline of her bodice. The movement of her hands tickled the hairs on his leg.
She paused. “Could you turn a bit to the side, so I can get to the back of your knee?”
He was glad for an excuse to turn away from her.
She poured more liniment into her hands and began to stroke the underside of his knee and a little way up his thigh. A ripple of hot desire flashed through him, and before he could even think about controlling himself, his cock thrust its way through the opening of his drawers, causing some movement of the sheet that covered that part of his body. He rushed his hand over that portion of the sheet, hoping she hadn’t noticed his unruly body part.
She stopped applying the liniment. “That ought to do for now. Is there anything else you need?”
He kept his back turned toward her. “I think I’ll take a nap.”
“That’s a good idea. I need to see to Toby, but I’ll be back to check on you.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He heard water slosh as she picked up the basin she had used when she washed him. Then her footsteps sounded across the room and out into the hallway. Dear God! First I lose control of my horse and now of my desire for Ellen. How can I live a chaste life with this woman if I can’t control my body any better than this?
* * * *
Ellen rushed down the hall to the bathing room. She dumped the water in the basin she was carrying down the drain in the bathtub, and then moved to the mirror hanging over the wash stand. Her cheeks were still unnaturally pink. But at least, she now knew the truth. Judging from what she had just seen, her husband was not sexually disabled.
Then why on earth had he agreed to a marriage in name only? It had to be highly uncomfortable for him to have a wife just across the hall and still deny his normal urges. She had heard enough stories about Philip’s fellow soldiers to know men did not have to be in love with or even particularly attracted to a woman in order to have sex with her. And Gerald had paid Ellen compliments that indicated he did find her attractive.
He had obviously been embarrassed for her to see him without the artificial arm. Was that why he shunned an intimate relationship with her? The stump didn’t look so bad—just different. But Gerald was a proud man, always trying to do everything for himself. And now he was having some kind of problem about riding horses with his artificial arm. Mr. Samuels had seemed almost angry about it and had implied that Ellen should become involved.
Was Gerald working too hard because of his added need to support a wife and child? Was this somehow her fault? She’d had no intention of destroying Gerald’s life when she came to him for help. She owed him so much. How was she ever to repay the debt?
Would agreeing to fully become his wife do it? How could she agree to something he had not asked for? Perhaps his arousal had just been a matter of proximity. He had not said he wanted a lifetime relationship with her. How embarrassing it would be if she suggested consummating their marriage, and he said no.
And how did she feel about such an arrangement? Gerald Osborne was obviously a good and gentle man. He had instantly stepped up to protect a woman and child he had never met before and had not hesitated to totally upset his life to do so. He showed every sign of being an affectionate father to her son. She could not hope to find a better man to be her husband, but she certainly didn’t want to force him into a full marriage if he did not want it.
How should she go on?
* * * *
A stab of pain jarred Gerald awake. He had turned in his sleep and twisted the sore knee. After carefully re-positioning himself on his back, he flexed the joint a little. It hurt, but not as badly as it had before he’d fallen asleep. Perhaps the liniment had helped.
Judging by the amount of light coming through his windows, he realized he’d slept the afternoon away. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d napped in the afternoon. Then he remembered what happened before this nap: how he had almost disgraced himself in front of Ellen. How in the hell could he go on living with her and hide the excitement she aroused in him?
He heard footsteps and Toby’s high-pitched voice out in the hallway. Was it the boy’s bedtime already? Gerald’s doorway had been left slightly ajar and he heard Ellen softly call, “Gerald, are you awake?”
After making sure the sheet covered the stump of his right arm, he called back, “Come in.”
As the door opened, Toby rushed in ahead of his mother. “Are you still hurt, Captain?”
“My knee is sprained, but it will be better soon,” Gerald assured the boy.
Toby propped his elbows against the mattress and looked sympathetically at Gerald. “Mama said a bad horse hurt you.”
Ellen rolled her eyes. “That is not what I said, Toby.”
Gerald chuckled at the exasperation in her voice. “The horse moved at the wrong time, but he didn’t do it to hurt me. He’s a young horse, and like young boys, he sometimes finds it difficult to remain still.”
“Oh.” Toby stared at him as if he wasn’t sure what to think of that pronouncement.
Ellen put her hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Wish the Captain goodnight and come along. It’s your bedtime.”
Toby looked back at Gerald as Ellen steered him toward the doorway. “Good night, Captain, and sleep tight.”
“I hope you have sweet dreams,” Gerald said.
Ellen pushed the boy through the doorway and looked back at Gerald. “We’ll bring your dinner up shortly.”
“I can go down—"
She pointed her forefinger at him. “Don’t you even think about it!”
But he did think about it. He thought about having to sit up to eat and having his pale stump visible the whole time.
After hearing Ellen leave Toby’s room and head for the back of the house, he slowly eased himself out of bed. He tried to put a little weight on the injured leg but the pain was still severe enough that he decided it would be best to hold on to furniture and hop on the good leg as much as possible. In this awkward manner, he made it to the commode stand to relive himself and then went to the chest where his night shirts were kept. He normally didn’t wear these when at home, but felt he’d be a lot more comfortable with his upper body covered, while he was sitting up and others were in the room.
After slipping the night shirt over his body, he returned to the bed, stacked the pillows so he could lean against them comfortably, and got under the sheet. He didn’t have to wait long. Footsteps, voices, and rattling dishes announced the parade that soon entered his room. Mrs. Moore was first, carrying a tray of covered dishes. Mr. Moore followed with a small, square table. Ellen entered carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses on it. Alice brought up the rear carrying a water pitcher. Mr. Moore sat the table beside the bed. Mrs. Moore put the tray on the table.
“This is very nice,” Gerald said, “but I’m not exactly an invalid who requires all this attention. I could get up to eat.”
“You better stay in that bed and give your knee a chance to heal,” Mrs. Moore said in her best bossy manner. “And use that liniment again before you go to sleep.”
&nbs
p; The mention of the liniment caused Gerald to glance at Ellen. Her gaze met his for just a second, and then it skittered away. Did that mean she had seen his afternoon faux pas? Could they ever be at ease with one another again?
When the table was set for two, the others left the room. Ellen continued to stand beside the table and serve Gerald’s plate. “Would you like wine with your meal or prefer to wait until afterward?”
“Wine? What’s the special occasion?”
“No special occasion. But Mr. Moore said it might dull your pain.”
Gerald grinned. “Well, good for old Archie. By all means let’s have it with the meal.”
As she filled two glasses, she said, “Archie? Is that Mr. Moore’s first name?”
“Archibald, actually. But nobody uses that. Even his wife calls him Mr. Moore. Now sit down and eat your dinner before the food gets cold,” he said.
She followed his suggestion and concentrated on her own food more intently than seemed necessary.
After a few moments of silence, Gerald said, “This stew’s not bad.”
“It is tasty. Toby had two helpings for his dinner.”
“The little fellow seems really concerned about my injury.”
“He is.”
Gerald couldn’t stand this stiff conversation any longer. “Look! I’m sorry if I embarrassed you this afternoon.”
She held her hand up. “You don’t have to apologize. I realize a man can’t always control that reaction. I should not have touched you so freely.”
“Do you think not touching will fix the problem?”
She stared down at her plate and pushed a potato cube around with her fork. “I—I’m sorry I have put you in such an awkward situation. All I thought about was protecting Toby from that horrible Mr. Coyler. I should have considered how unfair our marriage would be to you.”
“So—what shall we do now?”