The Officer and the Bostoner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 1)

by Gordon, Rose

  Wes frowned. “Would you care to explain yourself? It’s not as if I can just have her wander around the fort during the day. She needs to be with the other ladies.”

  “Of course,” Jack agreed. “But as soon as you’re done for the day, you escort her to your room, then to dinner, and then back to your room. Then we see her again at breakfast and that’s it. Have you considered that even though we’re just men and can be a bit crass at times, she might enjoy playing cards with us or going out to the bonfire?”

  Wes couldn’t believe his ears. Any idiot knew those were not activities in which a lady would like to participate.

  “Do you plan to take her out tomorrow afternoon to see the rounders game?” Gray asked, saving Wes from having to respond to Jack’s stupid suggestion.

  Wes started. He forgot that tomorrow was the men versus the officers. “I don’t think so. I don’t know if she’d have a good time.”

  “Yes, because condemning her to a life of sewing and other domestic pursuits is far more enjoyable than sitting out in the sunshine and watching a game,” Gray commented.

  Well, when put that way... Gray had a point, though. Just because the other ladies didn’t care to watch the games didn’t mean that Allison wouldn’t find it enjoyable. “I’ll see if she’s interested in coming. If she is, I’ll be sure to bring her. As for your suggestions—” he turned his eyes toward Jack— “I don’t think those are what I’d consider to be suitable alternatives.”

  Jack shook his head. “Wes, I’d think she’d probably find anything away from your solitary company a suitable activity.”

  ~Chapter Thirteen~

  “Did we get another delivery?” Allison asked when they reached the top of the stairs near their room.

  “It sure looks like we did. What do you think it is?”

  She cast him a slightly annoyed look. “It looks like a bathtub, but I wasn’t expecting to see one outside our room.”

  “Do you not think that army men bathe?”

  “Well.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know. None that I’ve seen have looked very clean.”

  He chuckled. “That’s because most either don’t care or haven’t had a chance to use the tub yet.”

  She grimaced. “Everyone uses the same tub?”

  “No, not everyone. Some share. Some don’t.”

  “Who will we share with?”

  The grin that spread his face could only be described as wolfish. “Each other. I got General Ridgely’s approval today for us to have our own tub.”

  “Was this the special occasion you’d mentioned I’d need the new dress for this morning?” she asked, lifting the shirt and skirt draped over her free arm.

  “I’d hoped so. But even if Ridgely hadn’t approved of us having our own tub, it was our night on the schedule to use the officers’ tub.”

  She squeezed Wes’ arm. “Thank you. I am in desperate need of a bath, but I feared...” She shrugged.

  “Now you shall have one, and then you will have some fresh clothes to put on afterwards.”

  “Thank you,” she said again, coming up on her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Before she could think of why she’d done that over something as simple as making arrangements for her to have a bath, she let go of his arm and walked over to examine the tub. “You will bring it inside for me, won’t you?”

  “No, I don’t think I will.” He poked his lower lip out and shook his head. “I thought you’d bathe out here and enjoy the view of the fort—of course all the men will be enjoying the view, too.”

  “And just where will you be?”

  “Standing right here, getting the best view of all.”

  A shiver skated down her spine at his words, and doing her best to school her features, she simultaneously shrugged and sighed. “Well, if that’s the way it has to be, go get the water.” Frankly, she was so desperate for a bath, the idea that Wes would see her taking one almost didn’t bother her at all. Almost. The only reason that it didn’t bother her was that if he were in the room with her, she knew he would be mindful enough of her vulnerability to distract himself with something else. But was that what she really wanted him to do? Of course it was! A proper young lady didn’t wonder what a man’s reaction would be at seeing her naked! Nor did she even think about asking him to help her in and out of the tub, and most certainly not to help her with her hair.

  “I wasn’t serious.” Wes’ gentle tone pulled her from her wandering thoughts.

  “I know.” She winced at her uneven turn, then cleared her throat. “I just got distracted...”

  He unlocked the door and pulled it open for her, then used his back to hold open the door while he lifted the tub. “Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.”

  She didn’t doubt that; but would she remember to be a perfect lady?

  Pushing the wicked thought from her mind, she entered the room and waited for him to come in so she could close the door.

  “Can you get the fire started?” Wes asked.

  Allison set her new clothes down on the bed. “Of course.”

  “All right, you start it, and I’ll go down to the well and get you some water.” He picked up the metal pail that came inside the tub and made a move to walk past her just as she took a step toward the fire. His thick arm brushed straight across the softness of both of her breasts. The color in his cheeks heightened. “I’m sorry,” he said, then left.

  She assumed his rough reaction hadn’t necessarily been because her breasts had brushed him, as she’d slept atop him with her breasts pressing against his body for hours and hours the other night; but rather, like her, he was feeling the discomfort of the coming moments.

  She dismissed the thought. It wouldn’t be so bad; she wouldn’t let it. Allison knelt down and repositioned the firewood in the fireplace, then lit the kindling and blew the small flame until it caught. She almost smiled. How ironic that growing up in Boston she’d never learned to sew or embroider or cook because someone was always there to do it for her, but she’d learned to build and stoke fires. Out of necessity, of course. She could have rung for someone to come to her room to do it for her, and while waiting, she might have frozen half to death some winters. It took her a while, but she eventually did learn how to make a fire.

  Perhaps sewing would be the same way. If she’d just persist, perhaps she’d learn. And if she learned... She bit her lip to staunch that thought immediately. Wes was charming and handsome and he’d make a good husband. But he couldn’t be hers. She’d already made a promise to Nicholas. A promise that wasn’t easily broken, she thought with a grimace. Besides, Wes probably didn’t want her to stay anyway.

  She tossed another log on the fire, and just as the flames were starting to grow, Wes came in with two pails of water. He set them down next to the fire, then pushed this log and moved that log, creating a much larger flame almost instantly. Apparently her fire-building skills still needed some work. But at least she’d gotten it started and hadn’t embarrassed herself completely.

  He moved the metal buckets right in front of the fire, then walked over to the dining table, shrugged his coat off and placed it over the back of one of the chairs. “It shouldn’t take too long for it to heat up. The water that comes out of the wells around here is never very cold.”

  Allison nodded and took a seat in one of the wobbly chairs. “I can wait here and bathe alone if you’d like to go to dinner.”

  An unreadable expression came over his face and he reached for his coat.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she blurted. She sighed and racked her brain for how to explain what she’d meant. “I’m not trying to run you out of your own home. I just thought you might like to eat dinner with your friends tonight, since you weren’t able to last night or the night before.”

  He stared at her for a minute and then released his hold on his coat, a hint of uncertainty still shadowing his face. “I asked Jack to bring our plates up here. I thought we could have dinner t
ogether. Alone.”

  Now, it was her turn to stare at him. She didn’t know why she was staring at the unusual man she was sharing her time, life, and even her bed with; but she just stared at him anyway. Did he like being alone with her? Sure, he spent time each evening alone with her, teasing her about the progress of her dress or lying next to her in silence as the sun faded away and they drifted to sleep. But with the exception of his subdued mood yesterday that resulted in a meal of dried goods and her fit of vapors the night before, she assumed he’d rather eat with his friends.

  “I can have him take it back downstairs when he arrives. Or better yet, I can just go down there and eat now,” he said, grabbing his coat again.

  “No!” She jumped to her feet and reached for his arm. “No. I was merely surprised that you’d wish to eat alone with me. I just assumed you tolerated my presence because you didn’t have a choice.”

  “I don’t tolerate your presence,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “I’m a man, Allison. I don’t speak in a special code, nor do my actions suggest one thing, but mean something else. If I didn’t like you being here or I thought you were bothering me, I’d have gotten you your water, then excused myself. Now, if you don’t want me here, that’s a different matter entirely.”

  “No.” She licked her lips and tucked a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. “I do want you here. I just didn’t know you wanted to be here—and not just because there’s about to be a naked woman in here.”

  His eyes widened a touch and then his arm stiffened. “No. And that’s not why I wanted to stay.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “If you were that concerned with having my innocence, you’d have taken it long before now.”

  He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. “And what makes you think I’m not interested in having your innocence?”

  Her breath caught. “Are you?” What a silly question to have asked. She knew him well enough by now to know that he was only saying that to her to be scandalous and see her reaction. “Please forget I asked that.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, then they shot to something beyond her left shoulder. “Your water appears to be ready.”

  Allison forced herself to turn around and look at the bit of steam coming off the top of the two pails of water.

  Wes picked up a towel and went over to the pails. He grabbed the handle, and using the towel as a layer of protection between the hot pail and his hand, he dumped the water into the tub he’d positioned just a few feet away in front of the fire. Then he did the second. It didn’t fill the tub entirely, but it was more than half full, which was plenty of water to bathe in.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as he set the pail back to the ground.

  He nodded to her, then lay down on top of their bed. “Your water is ready when you are, my lady.”

  Allison wasn’t sure why he’d said that or had such a sarcastic tone after what he’d said only a moment before. Wes, she was learning, was more complex than he’d like her to think. She resisted the urge to throw a glance over her shoulder to see if he was watching her and unbuttoned the front of her gown, then slipped it off her shoulders. It felt so good to be out of its confines, knowing she wouldn’t have to put it back on shortly. She stepped out of the puddle it made on the floor and peeled off her stockings, then reached for the hem of her chemise and with one swift motion pulled it over her head and dropped it on the bed behind her.

  “Do we have any soap?” she asked as a belated thought just as she sank into the steaming tub.

  “It’s on the nightstand,” Wes said thickly.

  “Do you think you could—”

  Before she’d even finished her question, a tanned hand holding a round, white cake of soap in its open palm appeared in front of her.

  She took the soap from Wes; then just as quickly, a little square of cloth was pushed in her direction. She took that, too.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His voice sounded different than usual, strained perhaps.

  Ignoring the way her skin tingled with awareness that he was in the room with her and could even be watching the back of her as she bathed, she spun the soap in her hands then proceeded to wash herself.

  It felt so great to sit in a steaming tub and wash off the dirt that had collected on her person over the past three weeks, but what of her hair? She turned her head just enough to catch sight of Wes. He was lying on the bed, hands fisted at his sides and staring at the ceiling.

  She turned her head back, put her ankles up on the front lip of the tub, gripped the sides and scooted her bottom toward the end. She tried to move slowly so not to dump water out the sides; but all thoughts of that were gone when she slid, and despite her hold on the tub, her entire upper body fell into the water with her bottom on one end of the tub and her head under the water on the other.

  A hint of panic settled in her chest and she tried to pull herself up. But with wet hands on a slippery metal surface, very little upper body strength and the back of her knees unable to gain purchase on the end of the tub, all she was able to accomplish was an excessive amount of thrashing.

  Suddenly, two strong hands gripped her under her arms and pulled her up from under the water.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, swiping at the rivulets of water that were coursing down her face.

  Wes handed her a towel to wipe her face. “Dare I ask if that was intentional?”

  Allison crossed her arms over her breasts and scowled at him. “I was trying to wet my hair so I could wash it.”

  He pursed his lips and studied her hair. “Looks all wet to me.”

  She swatted at his thigh. “Would you—”

  “Wash your hair for you so you don’t accidentally drown yourself? I’d be happy to.” He knelt down behind her, then reached for the towel he’d handed her to dry her face with. He folded it in half, then from behind her, draped it over the tub in front of her. “There, that should cover you well enough so you can uncross your arms and relax.”

  Allison leaned her head back and peered up to watch him as he made a thick, creamy lather from the cake of soap he’d given her to use earlier. He was every bit the gentleman Mrs. Lewis and Sarah claimed him to be—even with the top three buttons of his shirt undone, offering her a generous glimpse of his tanned chest. She swallowed and turned her eyes away.

  A moment later, his hands were on her head with his strong fingers digging into her hair and spreading the soap through her strands.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his hands. He ran his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp in a way that made her want to sigh in contentment. His touch was firm yet gentle as he continued to spread the lather over her thick hair.

  “Time to rinse,” he said in a voice she hardly recognized as his.

  At his urging, she sat up and bent forward a bit.

  He pulled the towel in front of her off, lowered the edge of the pail he’d used to heat the water into her bath, then slowly poured the water over her head, running one hand through the swath of hair he was rinsing as he poured the water. It took about twelve partially-filled buckets to rinse all of the soap from her hair.

  “I think it’s all out. Out of your hair, that is; but your water looks like milk.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to drink it, then?” she teased to help release the tension of the room.

  “I’ll drink most anything these days, but I do have to draw the line at soapy bathwater.” He was still kneeling behind her and reached one of his large hands around in front of her. “Would you like some help out?”

  She grabbed his hand and with a hard swallow, she stood.

  Wes must have taken to his feet at the same time because he was standing right next to her and helping her out of the tub in an instant. He bent down, snatched up the towel he’d set beside the tub and handed it to her.

  She gladly accepted the towel and stepped aside to wrap it around herself.

  She
assumed he would empty the tub and get fresh water for his bath, so she was caught off guard when she heard the unmistakable sound of water splashing as a body was lowered into the tub.

  Allison turned to face him. His thick arms were stretched out on either side of the tub and his hairy chest was exposed to her gaze; his head bent back and rested over the side of the tub.

  “Did you not want hot water?”

  “No, this is just the right temperature.”

  “But it’s nearly cold.” It had taken him no less than forty minutes just to wash her hair.

  He muttered something that sounded oddly like “not cold enough”, then grabbed the cake of soap, and began scrubbing his arms. “Do you plan to watch me, then?”

  She blushed. “No. I was just looking for my chemise.” She took a step forward and picked it up, then turned around. She quickly pulled it over her head and ignored the way Wes chuckled as she struggled to pull the towel down, which was now acting as a buffer between her and her chemise.

  “Modesty can be such a chore, can’t it?”

  She spun around to face him. “Unlike you, I don’t think everyone who happens into my private room has earned the privilege to see my person without proper covering.”

  “And how does one earn such a privilege, I wonder.”

  Well, he marries her, of course. But she couldn’t say that. That might have worked on Nicholas when he’d tried to push the boundaries of what was acceptable before marriage. But that wouldn’t work with Wes; he’d already married her.

  “While you keep thinking up the answer to that, you might wish to turn the other direction. I’d hate for you to take advantage of my loose morals and exercise your privilege of seeing me unclothed merely because we share a room.”

  Shame—and perhaps a bit of mortification at her childish words and actions—burned in her face. She already knew she could trust him. He’d been nothing but thoughtful of her pride and gentle with her in every regard; not to mention he’d probably already glimpsed more of her bare skin than she might like to believe. “I’m sorry, Wes. I don’t mean to seem so childish. I know our circumstances are different than most, but I am intended to another man. If he thinks I’ve been untrue to him, he might renege; and if that happens—” She choked on a sob as the reality set in: if Nicholas cried off, she’d have nowhere to go, and that would be the least of her problems. Wes was only being kind enough to offer her his name until Nicholas came back to claim her. His generosity could not stretch on forever, nor could her heart.