They stopped at an old wooden bench beneath a small arbor covered in grape vines. Ashlinn sat down on the bench and motioned for Sean to do the same. Clearly he needed to rest for more reasons than one. After a quick glance around, he sat, but at a respectable distance so their legs didn’t touch. Feeling bold, and needing to pull him from his dark thoughts, Ashlinn took hold of his hand. Sean glanced over his shoulder at their chaperone but didn’t pull his hand back. The man stood a respectable distance away, staring off into the distance.
“I keep track of every man I have tended, writing down his name, address, and the names of his family members in a book so that if he dies, I can send a letter to his family. There are hundreds of names in that book and I know thousands more have died.” She had to take a deep breath to steady her voice. “Focusing on preserving the Union would likely make the Rebels concede at this point. Part of me understands McClellan’s desire to end things. It’s one thing to tend to a wounded man, another entirely to send him to his death.”
Cocking his head, Sean looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You agree with the general?”
“No, not at all. I merely understand where he is coming from. I believe slavery must be ended, and even if it costs an entire generation their lives, it will save the souls of countless more to come.”
The wrinkles in Sean’s brow smoothed out and his eyes widened. “You are a very interestin’ woman, Ashlinn O’Brian.”
Laughter spilled from Ashlinn, not the polite giggle expected from ladies but an unrestrained guffaw that she regretted immediately. “I have been called many things, but never that.”
For several moments, Sean laughed along with her, putting her completely at ease. His fingers tightened around hers as he gave her a smile of pure joy. “’Tis true. I admire that you think so deeply and speak your mind about it.”
She raised one eyebrow at him. “Then that makes you a very interesting man, Mr. MacBranain. Most men prefer their women to be seen and not heard.”
“I have noticed that unfortunate fact about men in America. ’Tis not so in our native Ireland, for the most part.”
They sat looking out upon the river for a while, enjoying the birdsong and the crickets tuning up for the coming night. In the shade of the grapevine leaves, the heat of the day almost reduced to pleasant. The sweet scent the remaining ripe grapes gave off was a bit cloying in its strength, but well worth it.
Soon Sean leaned close enough that their shoulders touched. Though cloth separated them, the motion felt wonderfully intimate.
“Thank you for this,” Sean said.
“For what?”
As their eyes met, he reached up to touch a strand of her hair. “For savin’ my life. And for remindin’ me there is more to it than killin’ and dyin’.”
Though she swallowed hard multiple times, she could not get the lump in her throat to go down so she could respond. The warmth and gratitude in his eyes drew her in until she swam in their coppery depths. One of his arms slid around her waist, drawing her closer. Desire filled those lovely eyes, but a tightness remained around them as if he were holding back. Of course he was. He was a true gentleman after all.
“To hell with propriety,” she murmured as she leaned closer to him, her lips reaching for his.
Freezing droplets of water struck her all over, followed by the swishing sound of dog’s hair moving as it shook.
“Ahhh, Cliste!” Ashlinn exclaimed as she brought her arms up to shield herself.
Sean’s carefree laugh filled the evening, more refreshing than a cool summer breeze. Such a laugh was a rare and precious thing in these times, something she hadn’t heard much at all in the past two years.
Tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, bent over ears perked as high as they could go, Cliste regarded them both with what could only be humor in her eyes.
“Cliste, I fear you are a better chaperone than my friend over there,” Sean told the hound.
The hound’s tail wagged, sending more water flying as she came closer. Laughing, Ashlinn waved her hands out before her. “No, no. Do not dare come near me, you wet thing!”
Sean picked up a stick, waved it before the hound, and tossed it toward the riverbank. Emitting a soft woof, Cliste bounded after it, tail flinging a last round of droplets on them as it wagged. The lengthening shadows of twilight soon swallowed her big gray silhouette.
A long sigh filled with regret eased from Sean as he rose. “Well, ’tis gettin’ dark; it would be ungentlemanly of me not to get you back to your tent.”
Rather than offer her his arm, he offered his bare hand, proving he wasn’t completely against being ungentlemanly. Smiling, Ashlinn accepted it and rose to stand closer to him than was ladylike. Another step and they would be pressed together. It was all she could do not to take that step. Whatever had come over her, she decided she liked it. From beneath her lashes, she gazed up at him.
“Being completely gentlemanly is overrated at times,” she said.
He draped her arm around his and pressed her hand against his forearm. “Perhaps it is,” he said as they began to walk.
With her free hand, she fussed with her skirt, using the excuse to keep their pace slow. Not only was she in no hurry to get back, she didn’t want him overexerting himself. All too soon, they were picking their way through the muddy patches that dotted the pathways between tents. Candlelight glowed from within a few of the tents already. Thankfully, the paths were empty of people for the most part. Cliste pushed her nose through the canvas door of their tent and dashed inside, leaving them alone.
Arm withdrawing from hers, Sean took a step back. Before they lost contact altogether, he caught up one of her hands, raised it to his lips, and kissed the back of it. The heady sensation of a man’s lips—this man’s lips in particular—upon the bare flesh of her hand was entirely new. Men had kissed her hand before, but always with a glove upon it. A thrill vibrated all the way down to her core. Her eyes shot open and she gasped at the pleasure of it. From beneath his dark brown locks, he gazed up at her from where he bent over her hand. Muscles low in her abdomen clenched, widening her eyes even farther.
“Guess I’m not a complete gentleman after all,” he whispered.
The husky tone of his voice touched things inside her that she longed for his skin to. Her face was afire with the scandal of her thoughts, and she couldn’t care less.
“Like I said, overrated,” she said in a breathy voice.
Slowly, and with obvious regret, he let her hand slide from his and took a step back. “Until tomorrow night then.” He bowed and shot her a devilish grin before turning toward his own tent less than ten feet away.
Harmless flirting, she reminded herself. Just harmless flirting. Pushing the boundaries like that made it feel like something almost scandalous, which was fine by her. A scandal her heart could survive; a courtship that ended with a dead suitor, it could not. As she undid the remaining ties that held her tent flap closed, she watched him out of her peripheral vision. He gave her a wink before ducking into his tent, flushing her face with heat yet again over having her staring discovered. Definitely scandalous.
Not wanting to risk the doctor “happening” by again while she was alone, she quickly retreated inside her tent and tied the flap closed. The thump of a tail against the ground greeted her. Cliste seemed to smile up at her from where she lay upon an old blanket at the foot of Ashlinn’s cot. It amazed her how pleased with itself a hound could look.
Not even bothering to loosen her corset, she flopped onto her back on the cot, letting out a long breath that she felt all the way down to her toes. Never had she been a lady prone to swooning over a man—not even as a young girl. Medical papers, studies, and practice had always been what intrigued her most in life. Men and relationships were a thing she had made little time for. But here this man came out of the blue, capturing much more than just her attention.
This was neither the time nor the place to allow herself to be
distracted by matters of the heart. Not to mention, there was the issue of every man in her life having died or disappeared. She wasn’t exactly lucky where they were concerned. For both of their sakes, she needed to keep her heart guarded. While she tried to convince herself of that, she couldn’t help but long for the hours between now and the ball to pass as quickly as possible.
Chapter 9
Being a corporal, Sean was expected to be present for all the pomp and ceremony of welcoming the president to the camp, but not to participate much beyond saluting and standing at attention. On the outskirts of the triple line of soldiers as he was, he couldn’t catch much more than a glimpse of the proceedings. He saw the president’s sideburns and his tall, black velvet hat, but not much else. And that only because the man was nearly a half a head taller than anyone else in attendance.
Fascinating as it all was, he was impatient for it to be over so he could pick Ashlinn up for the ball. He had no way to know if the runner he sent along with the request for her dress had been successful or not. The suspense had him fidgeting like a schoolboy. Earlier in the day he had shaved and bathed—not in the river or submerged in a tub, per Ashlinn’s medical advice, but with a towel and basin of lukewarm water. He had been careful to avoid his wounds as she had instructed, instead keeping them dry behind the clean bandages she had put on him this morning.
Finally, the general and president entered the manor. The moment the word “dismissed” left his lieutenant’s mouth, Sean allowed his body to relax, taking the pressure off the building pain in his side. At least the trimmed, green grass beneath his polished boots had offered a bit of cushion, but even the benefits of that had diminished after almost an hour of standing in the same spot.
The clouds that had held back the sweltering heat began to move across the sky. Beams of sunlight broke through here and there, reflecting off the puddles left by an earlier rain shower. Sean steered clear of them, wanting to keep his boots as clean as possible. The edges of the paths between the tents weren’t so bad. Grass even managed to cling in some spots. He stored the best path to memory so he could bring Ashlinn down it and avoid soiling her dress. He wanted this night to be perfect for her. She deserved it, and so much more. In truth, more than he could give.
Tonight was foolish, in more ways than one. Attending a ball while men were fighting and dying seemed horribly wrong. But it was more than that. His heart longed for him to let his guard down and let her in, but his head fought him. He had long ago lost count of the number of friends who had died beside him. While he couldn’t help befriending his brothers-in-arms, allowing feelings for a woman to grow at a time like this was something he could stop. Despite the war that raged within, despite the foolishness of it all, he was determined to enjoy the evening. Considering that each moment of this war brought the possibility of death, it would be foolish not to seize a good moment. That was all it would be: a moment.
Having convinced both his head and heart to be on the same page for the evening, he approached Ashlinn’s tent. The ball was yet an hour away, but he wanted to take her for a walk along the manor grounds before the festivities began. He drew his hand over his clean-shaven chin as he contemplated the perfect words. A large, gray, furred head poked through the tent flap at stomach height. Ears perked up and canines showing in a dog’s grin, Cliste emitted a soft woof of greeting.
Grinning, Sean scratched between the hound’s ears. “Hello to you as well.”
From within the tent came Ashlinn’s voice. “Cliste, get out of the way.”
Cliste withdrew and a few moments later the tent flap pushed aside. The fine words of formality he had carefully rehearsed fled like birds from a hound. Not even a vestige of them remained for his gaping mouth to grasp upon. Satin folds in emerald green hugged Ashlinn’s curves in all the right ways, accentuating her hips, the dip of her waist. The color matched her eyes perfectly. A square neckline edged in Irish lace framed her bosom, showing just a hint of cleavage that would suggest her breasts to be perfect handfuls. Pins that gleamed in the twilight held her golden hair in an elaborate bun atop her head, exposing the long, graceful line of her neck.
Oh how he longed to brush his lips across that pale skin…he would have blushed were there any blood left to make its way to his cheeks. However, it all rushed in the opposite direction. A hand drifted to her chest, not to hide it, he realized by her stunned expression, but as if checking her heart. Her beautiful blue eyes danced across him, drinking in every inch of his finely pressed and fitted uniform—the one he kept tucked away for special occasions. He was suddenly very thankful the general had offered to clean and press the uniforms of any soldiers attending the ball. And even more grateful that he’d had the chance to bathe—with actual soap—and shave for the occasion.
He was the first to find his voice.
“I was right. That dress proves it.”
One corner of her mouth quirked up. “Right about what?” The breathless sound of her voice was alluring music to his ears, like a siren’s song.
“You bein’ an angel.” He knew he sounded just as breathless, and he didn’t care.
With a flourish, he bowed deeply and offered her his arm. She inclined her head and accepted, wrapping her arm around his. To his dismay, long white gloves reached all the way up to her elbows. He would miss the decadent feel of her bare hand upon his arm tonight, but seeing her in such finery more than made up for it.
“Now, now, Mr. MacBranain, it would not be prudent to make such an assumption before getting to know me better,” she said.
They began to walk toward the manor, Cliste trotting along behind them.
A twinge of fear twisted inside him at her words. “Come now, I should think after all we have been through together we are past such formalities.” The wise part of him knew this was his opportunity to step back, to stop playing this dangerous game they had started. But the thought of keeping this woman at a distance hurt worse than a bayonet through the side.
Though she smiled, he thought he caught a glimmer of fear in her eyes as well. “Indeed, we are. But it would be nice to pretend for at least one night that we are within proper society instead of the midst of a war.”
The knots in his stomach unbound and he rubbed the back of her gloved hand. “Then that’s exactly what we shall do, Miss O’Brian.”
She leaned a bit closer to him than what was proper, her side touching his in places. Fire spread out from those areas, warming him in a way not even the sultry July evening could. He longed to lean in to that warmth but he didn’t dare. If anyone were going to push the boundaries of society, he would let it be her. To a point. To preserve her honor, and his, he would stop the flirtation before it could go too far. But only if it came to that.
“You look quite dashing in your dress uniform. I hope it does not rub too much against your stitches,” she said, adding the last part quickly, as if she needed a reason to compliment him.
He smiled down at her. “Why thank you. And no, ’tis all right.”
The dirt and mud paths soon gave way to short green grass that was blessedly dry. Much to Sean’s surprise, it hadn’t rained since this morning, almost as if the weather itself were giving them a reprieve for this event. They rounded the side of the house and entered the landscaped back garden. Many of the bushes and flowers grew untamed since the Union had taken possession of Harrison’s Landing, but it was still beautiful. Cobbled paths led here and there, the largest of them going toward an area where dozens of people gathered. Officers in pristine uniforms and ladies in gowns the hues of jewels chatted and mingled as if a war wasn’t going on all around them. It made all the killing, dying, and maiming seem a world away. He didn’t want it to feel that way, didn’t want to disrespect the sacrifices being made.
Could he pretend convincingly enough that they weren’t in the midst of such horrors?
One glance at the beauty on his arm and he knew he could. She fussed with her dress, smoothing it where her
hand had clung to it, holding it up away from the dirty path they had just left. The full skirt swept out around her like a bell, hiding parts of her that the breeches she had worn when he had first met her revealed. But he didn’t need to see the curve of her hips, her buttocks, they were burned into his memory as surely as if they had been branded there. Her face turned up to him, the doubt etched in her eyes surprising him from his wicked thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and put on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was thinking of my patients. I apologize. We deserve to enjoy this night, and we shall.”
Knowing she felt the same about this farce of civility in the midst of war made it a little easier to stomach. His already substantial respect for her grew. Lifting her head, Cliste bumped their clasped arms and shot between the two of them and into the crowd. Tail wagging, she approached a pair of uniformed men who greeted her as if they knew her and promptly set to petting her.
“Not shy at all, is she?” Sean said.
Ashlinn smiled after her like a proud parent. “Not at all. But then, she knows just about all the soldiers. She wanders a lot while I work and they all seem to love her.”
“What’s not to love? She has quite the personality.” Heat flushed through him with each word, for he spoke them not just about Cliste, but about Ashlinn.
Among the dozens before them, Sean searched for a familiar face to connect with. Not a man without stripes on his shoulders stood among the crowd, a fact that rankled him more than a little. Finally, he saw a sergeant from the 69th that he recognized. It took a moment because the man now wore a full beard, something Sean had never seen upon him. He leaned heavily on a walking stick, trying to make the pose seem casual while he chatted up a woman in a yellow gown. Of the dozens of men from his regiment that had visited him while he’d been wounded, this man hadn’t been among them. Now he knew why. The man had been wounded as well.
Careful to keep the accepted distance between he and Ashlinn, Sean escorted her across the yard to where the sergeant stood. Turned slightly away from them as he was, attention riveted upon the woman in yellow, he didn’t notice them approach. Sean waited for the woman in yellow to stop talking and nod in his direction.
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