Disbelief lingered with a blossoming hope in his chest. “I would like to court you properly, startin’ now if you’ll have me. There is no sense trying to guard my heart from you. You have already found your way in.” He paused and swallowed hard. “If afterward you decide you find me suitable I’ll not ask for, nor accept, a dowry, for ’tis you I want, not your family’s wealth. But if you desire a man of higher standin’, I’ll understand.” He swallowed so hard he had no doubt she heard it. “I have no intention of dishonorin’ you. I merely want the chance to get to know one another, official-like, in a manner that no one would look down upon.”
An inner turmoil broiled within her eyes and she was silent so long the birds in the tree above them began to tweet once again. Despair drove him to speak.
“Unless you have already accepted someone else’s courtship. Then o’ course I would respect that, but—”
She rose up on her toes and stopped his words by covering his lips with hers. That slight contact broke the dam of control he had built into a million pieces that he’d surely never be able to recover. Ever since that evening after Antietam, he had wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he wanted much more, but it all started with a kiss. His arms wrapped tight around her, pressing her against him. Clinging to a shred of honor, he kept it chaste and sweet, his lips parting only enough to tease her with his warm breath.
The smile on her beautiful face nearly made his knees weak. “May I take that as a yes?”
She laughed, the sound sending a shiver through him and making his eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Aye, you certainly had better.”
He pushed away from the tree, stepped back, and offered her his arm. “Well in that case, I fear we have broken all etiquette and leapt ahead of the process. If we’re to keep company now, then we shall have to do it proper so none may claim I have spoilt you,” he said in his most official sounding voice.
Sighing deeply, she dropped her gaze until her lashes brushed her cheeks, and accepted his offered hand. They began to walk through the forest once again, Cliste trotting ahead of them.
“I hope this does not mean the end of our stolen kisses and embraces,” she said softly, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
The come-hither look along with the words sent blood pumping to places that would make it quite difficult to hide. Right now he could scarcely bring himself to care. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile. “I did not say that.”
Up ahead Cliste bounded to a soldier in blue that leaned against a tree. He greeted her and patted her head. He glanced at Ashlinn out of the corner of his eye, secretly pleased at the disappointment that shone in her eyes. He was quite serious about doing this proper, all the way down to the escort. As much as he wanted this lady, he wanted to do it right. Telling her his story only strengthened that resolve. Now, if he could only hold onto that resolve in the midst of war.
Chapter 17
Arms and lips still burning with the wonderful feel of Ashlinn, Sean marched straight for his lieutenant’s tent. He wanted to head this off at the pass before word had a chance to get out. Or more specifically, before Taylor came crying to his commanding officer yet again. This time he would not allow that blaggard to make it seem as though he were out to dishonor Ashlinn.
The flap to the lieutenant’s tent was tied open and the sound of a wire brush moving against steel came from within. Behind a table, the man sat cleaning his rifle. For a moment Sean considered backing away and returning later, perhaps when the man didn’t have a weapon in his hands.
Without shifting his focus from the weapon, he addressed Sean. “What is it you need, Sergeant?”
Upper lip twitching as he fought the impulse to cringe, Sean snapped to attention and saluted. Only just now looking up at him, the lieutenant put his bore brush down and returned the salute. Gun oil and soot smeared across his forehead as he did so. Picking up a rag, his attention returned immediately to his work.
“I wish to have a word with you, sir. But I can come back when you aren’t busy.”
“That ’tis a mythical time that doesn’t exist. Please, have a seat.” He motioned toward the empty chair on the other side of his makeshift desk.
Sean marched in and sat in the chair, his back rigid, eyes forward.
“At ease, soldier. Just tell me what ’tis on your mind.”
The man’s casual tone should have relaxed him, but it didn’t. He wasn’t a hard man, his lieutenant, just a fair and honorable one that expected no less from the men he commanded.
“Well, sir, I thought a lot about what you said, about not dishonorin’ the good ladies who are workin’ as nurses for the 69th, or even allowin’ it to appear as though we are.”
When he paused to carefully consider his next words, the man waved the rag at him. “Go on.”
“And what I feel for Miss O’Brian is not a passin’ fancy. I intend to officially court her, and I wanted to head off any rumors before they start.”
At that, the man stopped what he was doing, put the rag and weapon down, and looked at Sean. He figured it was best to leave out the part about how he had already asked her, and she had accepted. The look of warning in his lieutenant’s brown eyes hurried Sean’s next words.
“We are at war, I understand that. My men and the war come first and that will not change, I assure you. Courtin’ Miss O’Brian will give me incentive to work harder and fight harder. It will not distract me. In fact, I will work so hard you’ll want to promote me.”
It wasn’t hard to sound convincing; he meant it. No lives would be put at risk due to him courting Ashlinn, of that he was utterly determined. And the last part, about a promotion, he definitely intended to work hard toward. Not only to serve his country and his men better, but because he knew to truly have a chance with Ashlinn he needed to earn and save as much coin as he could. Once this war was over, a beautiful woman such as herself would have no shortage of suitors, likely all of them far better off than him. If he wanted to be able to compete with them, he had to start now.
The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed to slits and he pursed his lips for a moment, as if thinking hard. Sean couldn’t help but hold his breath. He didn’t know what he’d do if the man refused him. Something that would no doubt land him in a heap of trouble if he were caught. But one thing was for certain, no matter the consequences, he couldn’t walk away from Ashlinn now.
“On those very conditions.” Before Sean could thank him, the man held up a hand. “But, if I see even one sign of it distractin’ you, or movin’ your focus away from your men or this war, I will bust you back down to private, and that is if I’m feelin’ generous.”
Propelled to his feet by his excitement, Sean saluted the man again. “You won’t, sir, I assure you. You’ll be hard pressed to find a more dedicated soldier.”
The man set his rifle and rag down and leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “We shall see about that. Since you’re so eager to prove yourself, ready your men for reconnaissance to Halltown. You leave at first light.”
Sean covered his disappointment with what he hoped was an eager smile, hand remaining at his forehead in the salute. “Aye, sir. We shall make you and the Union proud.”
Sighing, the lieutenant sat up and returned the salute. “See that you do, Sergeant. Dismissed.”
Body rigid, Sean shot the man a smile that he didn’t feel, snapped the salute down to his side, turned on his heal, and marched from the tent. He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t just unknowingly led his men into danger. That the lieutenant would have chosen his company for the mission anyway. And it was likely, but that didn’t remove the weight in his stomach. The man could have chosen any of the companies of the 69th for such a detail. Deep down, Sean knew he had unwittingly given the man a reason to choose his.
Knowing the possibility of others seeing him leave the lieutenant’s tent was high; he maintained his fal
se smile and confident march until he was well into the darkness of the outer edge of the encampment. The doctor wasn’t the only one who talked. He had to be careful. Only once darkness encased him did he allow his shoulders to sag and his smile to melt away. Once he headed in the direction of his company’s tents, he started to whistle a tune in hopes of some very sensitive ears picking up on it.
His heart sank as he turned down the soggy path that led between the first row. The patter of huge paws splashing through the mud pulled his attention back behind him. For a long moment, he feared it was merely hope playing tricks on him; then he saw a huge gray shadow moving past the glow of the tents. The hound bounded up to him, nudging his thigh with her big nose.
“Good girl,” he whispered as he scratched behind her ears.
If he didn’t know better, he would almost think she had followed him and been waiting for his call. But it was far more likely that she had just been out in the area making her rounds and mooching off the other soldiers. He took a piece of paper from within his coat and wrote a quick letter to Ashlinn on it letting her know he would be gone for a few days. Cliste dropped her head as if waiting for him to open the small cylinder on her collar. Shaking his head, he rolled the letter into a tiny scroll and placed it within. At the click of the cylinder closing, Cliste perked up, let out a quiet bark, and bounded off into the dark.
Wonder filled him as he watched the hound fade into the night. Unfortunately, the moment he turned back to his camp, pain wrenched at him as if his guts had twisted. Just when he had built up the courage to ask Ashlinn to allow him to court her, he had to leave her. While he had gotten what he wanted, he had also ended up with more than he had bargained for.
Chapter 18
Crouched in the yellowing grass of the field, Ashlinn could almost pretend a large portion of the Union army wasn’t camped behind her. The warm, unusually dry October day had enticed her and Abigail out to gather the white flowering yarrow before it withered away and disappeared for the year. Glimpses of the robin’s egg-blue sky that stretched above the orange, red, and yellow draped trees lifted her spirits and reminded her of home. Fingering the soft, fernlike leaves of a flower she had just plucked, she paused before dropping it into the half-full basket beside her. Serenaded by a few birds and Abigail’s soulful humming, she almost didn’t hear the sound until it was nearly upon them.
Something large moved through the waist-high grass to their right. A mixture of hope and fear swirled within her. Instantly, her thoughts turned to Michael.
“Cliste?” Ashlinn whispered as one hand reached to her waist where she kept a bowie knife.
A soft woof came from the swaying stalks. Letting out the breath, Ashlinn sat back on her heels as Cliste trotted up to her. After pushing against her hand for a quick scratch, the hound lay down on her belly and dropped her head. Knowing what she wanted, Ashlinn reached for the cylinder on her collar.
She and Sean had been exchanging letters like this ever since he had returned from reconnaissance at the end of last month. Thankfully, he hadn’t been gone long and hadn’t had been sent back out since. However, his commanding officer worked him nearly from sunup to sundown, leaving little to no time for them to see one another. The approval of the courtship ended up making things more difficult, keeping them apart more effectively than when she had decided to keep him at a distance. So they had to be creative, and thankfully, Cliste seemed to enjoy it as if it were a game.
Unfolding the letter, she fought to control the girlish smile that turned up her lips. Once upon a time opening the cylinder on Cliste’s collar had brought her a great deal of stress as she had hoped—and feared—it would be a letter from her missing brother. An echo of that old pain remained, and she still thought of him each time. But now it had become the highlight of her day, often many times a week. She unrolled the tiny scroll and began to read, aware that Abigail had gone quiet beside her.
My Dearest Ashlinn,
It is my fervent hope that you will do me the honor of walking with me this evening to take in a bit of fresh air and the sight of tonight’s full moon. Should you be so inclined, and unobligated, I shall be by your tent to pick you up at sunset.
Yours,
Sean MacBranain
The formal manner of his words didn’t detract from the excitement they rose within her. A moonlit walk with him sounded like heaven, and not only because they had scarcely seen one another in three days’ time. Of late, she had come to understand her mother’s old saying, “’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Each moment, each word with Sean was a treasure she held dear. Denying herself those treasures had been a mistake. But then, that was easy to say with him still alive and well, she knew. Yet it was a risk she was glad she had accepted. If only she could see him more.
“Too tender to share, ma’am?” Abigail prompted from beside her.
More than the usual eagerness lay in her tone. Sharing the letters with Abigail had become a habit and pleasure the two women indulged in together. Abigail’s slightly too-wide eyes and pursed lips made Ashlinn wonder.
“Not at all. He says he wishes to take me walkin’ tonight,” she told her through a grin.
In Abigail’s presence, she found herself allowing her carefully disciplined English to slip and the Irish in her to shine through. Something about Abigail put her at ease and made her feel more herself than the company of any other woman—even her own mum—ever had. It didn’t hurt that Abigail never judged or corrected her, unlike the women back in her circles at home.
“Um hum, be a fine night for it, de moon out and all,” Abigail said through a sigh as she cast her gaze skyward. “In that case, ma’am, we’d best get ya back and cleaned up. Sunset ain’t more dan two hours away at most.”
Rising, she brushed back the dense curls of black hair that had come free of her thick braid. Again, Ashlinn got the sense that there was something else in her friend’s smile. Was it hesitance, a touch of nerves?
“Are you worried about me walkin’ with Sean at night?”
The hesitance melted away in the wake of a big smile. “Oh no, ya sergeant is a real gentleman.”
Ashlinn fished out the pencil she kept in her breeches pocket, flipped the note over, and wrote a quick but sweet reply back accepting his offer. She rolled the paper back up, tucked it into Cliste’s collar, and scratched beneath the hound’s chin.
“Take that to Sean now,” she told her.
Ears and tail perking up, Cliste seemed to grin at her before turning and bounding off into the tall grass. Basket in hand, Ashlinn rose and brushed the dirt from the knees of her breeches. Her smile grew as she watched the grass sway after Cliste’s passing. If they could get a moment alone perhaps tonight she could coax more than a kiss out of the oh-so-proper sergeant.
* * * *
Smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her dark blue working dress, Ashlinn wished for the thousandth time that she had something less plain to wear. No wonder the man wasn’t trying to ravish her at every turn; all he had ever seen her in was this drab thing and men’s clothing. There had been the one fine dress she wore to the ball, but that had been months ago, and she feared the image had faded from his mind. It could also be his deep sense of honor and propriety that made him evade her every attempt at intimacy. No matter how she tried to convince him that desire didn’t detract from his honor, he refused to budge on the matter. The stain of his parents’ transgressions darkened him no matter how much she tried to convince him he was clean of it.
The rhythmic sound of bristles brushing the tangles out of her hair calmed her, as did the quiet humming Abigail made as she brushed. Soon, her long hair draped around her shoulders like a wavy shawl of gold. She usually wore it bound up in a bun but tonight she wanted to try something new. While she didn’t expect to take Sean’s breath away clothed in her working dress, she hoped leaving her hair unbound might at least stir him. Not that she didn’t think he was attr
acted to her, he clearly was. But she had to do something to shake his restraint else she was going to explode from desire.
Abigail’s humming stopped, as did the brush. “No need to fret now, Ashlinn. Ya look beautiful.” Even after a few weeks of being on a first name basis, Abigail still whispered Ashlinn’s name each time she said it, as if it were something forbidden to her. It made her both proud of the woman and sad for her.
Fur brushed against canvas as Cliste pushed her way through the tent flap. She stood beside Ashlinn’s stool, eye-to-eye with her, tail wagging.
“I do believe dat means ya sergeant is here.”
Despite the fact that Abigail had brushed it into perfect waves, Ashlinn smoothed her hair as she stood. Before Sean could announce himself, she strode across the small space with three eager steps, and swept the tent flap open.
In a pair of dark breeches and his woolen coat, she could almost imagine he were just a suitor come calling and not a soldier in the middle of a war. Waves of his dark brown hair fell to his clean-shaven cheekbones, which were accented by delicious dimples. Candlelight erupted across the copper striations in his eyes as they widened to take in the sight of her. His tongue darted out to wet lips that turned up into an impressed smile. The sight of that pointed pink tongue sent warmth flooding toward the apex of her legs. Scandalous plans of ditching their escort began to form. But she couldn’t do that to poor Abigail. Another glance at how nicely he filled out those breeches and she thought just maybe she could.
Sean bowed slightly to her, eyes remaining locked on hers. “Miss O’Brian, you look lovely this evenin’.” The conviction in his voice made her feel as though she stood there in a fine gown rather than a worn working dress.
He turned sideways and offered her his arm. “Shall we?” Was she imagining a hint of suggestion in his tone?
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