“I need a hand,” another man’s voice called out, his meaning clearly inappropriate. Before Finn could find the offender and admonish him, Ham turned a baleful eye on the ward.
“Any more of that,” he said in heavy voice that carried, “and the hand you’ll be getting will be my fist in your mouth. Hush it and mind your manners around the ladies.”
“Aye, Captain,” several voices called out weakly.
Finn poked at Conall’s arm and his newest patient jerked away and writhed on the bed. “Well, you’ve gone and gotten it infected,” Finn told him in disgust. “You Fletchers were always for overdoing when you ought to be lying low.”
“Lying low?” Conall said weakly. “And how was I supposed to do that, traveling across the steppes in a wagon and one of only a handful of men who could still walk?”
“I’ll get you patched up,” Finn said. “Never fear. And then I’m going to force you to take it easy. You and Ham.” He glanced up at Ham as he spoke and the look Ham gave him in return was so heavy and full of heat Finn felt himself flush. He knew exactly how Ham wanted to take it easy. The question was whether Finn wanted to go there again. He glanced at Edith, who was watching them closely and he had no idea what he was going to do.
“Hold him down,” Finn told Edith. He didn’t even look at her, but she wasn’t offended. He had his hands full with his friend’s arm. He’d always been gruff, and terribly tall and rough, too much so she’d always thought before tonight. He needed a haircut badly, and his whiskers needed trimming, too. She’d been tempted to take her shears to him. There was one lock of hair, an unruly curl that fell down the right side of his forehead to just above his finely arched eyebrow. He wasn’t distinguished, not in the way so many doctors were. He wore his clothes as if they were an afterthought. What she’d seen outside earlier had been a wholly unexpected side of him. Alluring. Exciting. He’d controlled her completely and she’d reveled in it.
“No one needs to be holding me,” Captain Fletcher said indignantly. It was true the big, red-headed Scotsman was calm, but he wasn’t in control by any means. He had a painful, poorly set broken arm and was weak from lack of sleep, pain and his trip to Scutari. Worry for his brother still etched his brow, though the lieutenant was even now resting on a cot, a cool rag on his fevered brow.
“Let the nurse do it, you fool,” Finn ordered, affectionate concern in his words. “I’ve got to reset this arm and it’s going to hurt. I’ll not lie to you.”
“Ach, she’s a wee thing, Finn,” Captain Fletcher said, clearly reluctant to put her in harm’s way.
“I may be small,” she said with amusement, “but I am mighty.” Several patients observing them from nearby beds laughed. She leaned over the big Scotsman. “If I can’t hold you down, I’ve a good right cross that will put you down.”
“Now that I’d like to see, Mrs. Lambeth,” a patient called out. “I’ve got a quid on the lady.”
“Here, here,” a few more called out, and the betting began in earnest.
She smiled at the handsome captain as she took a firm hold of his uninjured arm and laid her torso over him. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”
“Call out if you need help,” the captain told her as relaxed beneath her. He watched her intently with his odd blue eyes. Unexpectedly he whispered for her ears only, “You smell so damn good.” She blushed but smiled at him as if they shared a secret. Today she adored Scotsmen, really she did.
“Thank you,” she said.
Before he could respond Finn made a sharp movement off to their right and she could hear the captain’s bone snap. Captain Fletcher sucked in a sharp breath of air, his blue eyes wide with shock, and then his back bowed beneath her, nearly tossing her off.
“I said hold him, damn it,” Finn growled at her, his Scots burr pronounced. “I don’t need to be hurting him more.” She could hear the pain in his words. He’d hated hurting his old friend.
“Yes, sir,” she said through gritted teeth. Her ire was more at herself than at Finn or the captain. She’d been too busy flirting with Captain Fletcher to do her job. She knew Finn hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours; his irritation was warranted and understandable. Edith pressed down more firmly on the captain, who immediately relaxed beneath her, though she could feel the tension in his good arm. She whispered soothingly to him as he bit his lip, uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ve got you. Let Finn make it better. We’ll take good care of you.”
Chapter 5
Edith hurried down the hallway, running late for her tryst with Finn. Miss Nightingale had delayed her to talk about the nursing staff. She wanted Edith to move into a more supervisory position. A few months ago the idea would have thrilled her. Today her reaction had been dismay because more responsibility meant less time for Finn. She was in over her head and falling deeper everyday when it came to him. Her steps slowed as her thoughts turned to Captain Fletcher.
He’d asked her repeatedly over the last month to call him Hamish, but she didn’t dare. The familiarity was unwise. She was terribly attracted to him, despite her ever-increasing feelings for Finn. The captain had never made any untoward advances, but it certainly wasn’t due to circumspection on her part. Each day she rushed through her other duties so that she could check on him. Finn was often to be found with him, and Edith had told herself many times that was why she sought him out, but she knew it for the lie it was. She simply enjoyed Captain Fletcher’s company, enjoyed his handsome looks, his well-muscled legs, shown off to advantage in his kilt—Edith had gained an entirely new appreciation for the traditional Scottish garment. But it wasn’t just his physical attributes that attracted her. He was quiet and intelligent, kind and compassionate. So like Finn in so many ways, and so different in others. Where Finn was quick to anger and often impatient, Captain Fletcher was always calm and cool, an enigma, never letting anyone close enough to discern his thoughts or feelings. He intrigued her even as his reticence saddened her. It seemed a lonely way to go through life.
But Finn always knew what the captain was thinking, always knew the right thing to say to draw him out. They were as thick as thieves, and there were times that Edith had caught a look or two between them that she didn’t understand.
She’d stopped by to see the captain for a moment before meeting Finn only to find him among the missing. His brother had shrugged and said he’d wandered off with Finn earlier. Part of Edith was disappointed that he might be with Finn in their spot, thus precluding any intimacies this evening. But another part was more eager than ever to reach their little trysting spot, knowing that both men might be waiting there for her.
She heard muffled voices through the door, and excitement over seeing both men won out over disappointment. She started to yank the door open, but something made her hesitate. Though she couldn’t understand what they were saying, the tone of their voices made her ease the door open slightly, so that she could hear but not see them.
“It’s been a month,” Ham said, staring up at the star-filled sky. “We don’t have much more time together.”
Finn’s heart ached at the empty sadness in Ham’s voice. “A few more weeks. I can keep you here past Christmas.”
Ham looked down at the ground. “I’d like that,” he said quietly. Nothing more. So like Ham.
“You shall spend the day with me and Edith,” Finn said impetuously. He’d invited Ham out here with the same sort of impetuous desire, wanting to spend more time with him and Edith together. He felt the clock ticking away at this time with Ham. His appearance here in Scutari had been a gift, but a gift with limits and Finn hated that.
“All right,” Ham agreed. “It will be fine Christmas to spend the day with you two.”
“I’m going to ask her to marry me,” Finn revealed, “and I’d like you to be there.” His heart beat fast with nerves and excitement. He could picture it, asking her with Ham there watching them. There was a rightness to it.
Ham looked at him
then, clearly surprised. “That’s something you should do in private,” he said. “I knew it. The day I arrived and I saw the two of you together, I knew it was this way.”
“I’m in love with her,” Finn told him desperately, aching to tell him the rest, that with each passing day he wanted Ham just as he wanted Edith, that he’d fallen in love with him all over again and even though he was filled with joy over the love he’d found with Edith, it was tempered with heartbreak over the love he was losing with Ham.
“I know,” Ham said. “I know what it means to love like that.” He looked at Finn then, and his eyes were full of the love that Finn craved, the love he’d walked away from over ten years ago, the love he needed now more than ever.
“Ham,” he said, and he let his anguish show in that one whispered word.
“Don’t,” Ham said quickly. “Just don’t.” He looked away again. “Edith is wonderful. I’m half in love with her myself. You’re a lucky man. I won’t ruin that for you.”
“My heart is breaking,” Finn confessed in a whisper. “If I hadn’t meet Edith…things would be different now between us.”
“Yes,” Ham agreed. “I feel the same way I did ten years ago. Not a day has passed that I haven’t thought of you, thought about holding you in my arms.” It was the most Finn had ever heard Ham say on the subject, but rather than elate him it drove the knife deeper into his heart. “But I’ll survive,” Ham added quietly. “I survived then, and I’ll survive now. Just knowing you’re happy with Edith, that she’s happy with you, that’s enough for me.”
“It’s not enough,” Finn argued. “You deserve more. I never should have left you. I thought of you nearly every day, too, Ham. Thought about what we did, how we felt, what we could have, should have done about it. I was a coward and a fool and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Ham told him. “You did the right thing. A love like that would only have gotten us both into trouble. Keep loving Edith, Finn. She’ll love you back and the world will smile upon you both.”
Somehow Finn knew this was it. Ham wouldn’t be alone with him again, wouldn’t tempt either of them to betray Edith. “Kiss me, Ham,” he whispered. “Kiss me like you did that day at the burn, as if you’d die without me.”
Ham turned to him, rolling his head and shoulder along the wall, and Finn mirrored him until they faced one another, mere inches apart. “I won’t die,” Ham whispered. “I’ll just feel like I did.” And with those words he leaned in and kissed Finn, dragging him forward along the wall with his good arm until he had Finn wrapped up tight, his mouth hot and damp on Finn’s, desperation making him rough and clumsy.
The bricks caught on Finn’s clothes, tugging at them, catching his hair the same way. Finn ignored it, ignored the cold and the smell and the fear that Edith would be there any moment to catch them. Instead he focused completely on Ham, on his taste and texture and kiss, memorizing him. Ham’s beard was longer and thicker than his. Softer, too, so that it caressed his cheeks and lips. Finn buried his hand in Ham’s sinful red curls, opened his mouth and let Ham have him. Ham took what he offered. He thrust his tongue into Finn’s mouth and tasted every corner of it, dominated the kiss and Finn and the moment and Finn reveled in it, as he had all those years ago. It was Ham, even though he was several years younger, who had grabbed Finn and kissed him the first time, made him accept his own desires and the change in their relationship. It was Ham would had undressed him and fondled him and possessed him in a way no one had again until Edith.
Everything about it felt so good Finn groaned into Ham’s mouth. Ham bit his lip, his breath harsh and his hand rough as it squeezed Finn’s shoulder. Then Ham was letting go and rolling away along the wall. He stood there, his head tilted back, his back against the wall, panting as he stared up at the night sky.
“That can’t happen again,” Ham said quietly, his voice rough. “It isn’t fair to any of us, Edith included, but especially me.” He rolled his head along the wall and stared bleakly at Finn. “I wish I hadn’t done it. The memory of you had faded, now it’ll be like a fresh wound that will never heal. Remind me of that if Edith asks for a Christmas kiss. God knows I don’t need the memory of her lips haunting me, too.”
“Ham,” Finn said, his voice breaking, his lips aching from the rough kiss.
“I know, Finn,” he said, and Finn knew he meant it. He knew exactly what Finn had left unsaid.
Chapter 6
Hamish lay on his cot smoking his pipe as he watched Edith changing his brother’s bandage. Edith had come to think of him as Hamish since the night she’d eavesdropped on he and Finn. She’d been confused and hurt for days after, avoiding both men, worrying about what to do. She was too in love with Finn to walk away from him, and he’d said as much about her. But her own heart was breaking knowing they were hurting Hamish. She wasn’t sure what that meant.
Over the last week she’d made it a point to observe the two men together, while finding excuses not to meet with Finn alone. She knew his patience must be nearly at an end, as he didn’t have much to begin with. Now that she knew how Finn and Hamish felt it was glaringly obvious to her in their lingering glances and awkwardness with one another. But they both watched her with hungry stares, too, Finn’s possessive and Hamish’s as inscrutable as ever. Hamish had taken to following her, like a brooding watchdog, when she made her rounds of the wards. It was a strange love triangle. She’d come up with a bold plan, one that most women wouldn’t dare try. Then again, she wasn’t most women and never had been or she wouldn’t be in Scutari in the first place.
“He can fend for himself you know,” Hamish said. “His fever’s been down for weeks.”
At his words Edith started, dropping the bandage. She glanced over at Hamish but had to look away or else everyone would see how he affected her. His legs were bare to above his knees. Those kilts were very nearly indecent, but lord how Edith loved them.
“He had the fever for weeks and the wound needs to be protected,” Edith said calmly. “He’s earned a little mollycoddling.” She’d learned how to deal with Hamish. He liked to give orders by subtly couching them in observations. That was, of course, when he deigned to speak at all. Most of the time he simply watched, observing her with that hungry intensity that made her feel hot and bothered.
“I’ve earned it,” his brother said. “Shut it.”
Hamish laughed. “My arm is still in a splint,” he told her. “Will you be mollycoddling me next?” There was something about his words that had Edith turning sharply to stare at him wide-eyed. From the heated look he was giving her she knew she hadn’t misunderstood the less than appropriate meaning behind his words. He looked away first, clearly uncomfortable with his own boldness. Instead of disconcerting her, his uncharacteristic flirting calmed her nerves, helping convince her she’d made the right decision.
“No,” she said simply. “I think you can take care of yourself.”
“Here now,” Lieutenant Fletcher said, moving away from her. “I can take care of myself, too.” He finished wrapping the bandage around his arm and tucked it up. “See?”
“Indeed,” Edith said, sending Hamish a grateful look. She’d been trying to figure out how to get his brother to take over so she could spirit Hamish away.
“Would you care to take a walk?” she asked Hamish politely as she stood and smoothed out her skirts. “My shift is over and I have time to do as I please. We could even go out into Scutari.”
Hamish swung his legs over the side of his cot. His kilt crept up his thighs and she both feared and hoped it would rise to an indecent length. He held out his hand to Edith, who only saw it because it cut off her view of his manly, well-muscled legs. She jerked her gaze up to meet his amused one. “I’d love to stretch my legs,” he said. He grabbed his jacket and slid his good arm into it, draping the other side over his shoulder, his splinted arm held close with a sling. When he was done he tucked her hand in his arm and grinned at her as they set off down the aisle of the ward.
“Where’s Finn?” he asked after they’d exchanged greetings with several patients.
“He had something to take care of in Scutari,” she told him. “I believe his landlady’s child is sick and Finn offered to take a look at her.”
“That’s our Finn,” he said with no small amount of pride. “Always ready to help.”
“You’ve known one another a very long time?” she asked. He nodded.
“Yes, since before I could walk,” he said. “He was a friend to my brother Douglas.”
“How many brothers have you?” she asked, glancing back in the direction of Lieutenant Fletcher. “I’ve heard you talk of several.”
“Five,” he said. “Rowan, Douglas, Conall and Brodie—the twins—and Bram, the baby. He’s fifteen now. Rowan and Bram stayed behind. Dougie and Brodie are over here with the 93rd as well.”
Edith was intrigued. “Four brothers fighting together? That’s unusual.”
“Not for highlanders,” he informed her with an indulgent smile. “Do you have brothers here, too?”
They had arrived at the coat rack. He helped her into her black coat and she helped him close a few buttons on his jacket to keep him warm. She waited to answer his question until they were out in the street. It was brutally cold and she clutched her arm to her, seeking his warmth. “My brothers?” She shook her head. “No. At least, I don’t believe so. I haven’t seen them since before my marriage.”
“Why?” he asked with a frown. Unconsciously he began to rub his hand over hers on his arm, warming her more.
“They did not approve of my husband.”
“Was he a bully?” he asked gruffly. “A gambler?”
She chuckled because the descriptions were so far from the truth. “Not at all. Charlie was very sweet, considerate and careful with money. But he didn’t have much of it. He was a mere sergeant, you see.”
His frown grew fiercer. “Your family’s a bit high in the instep, then?”
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