Honor Before Heart

by Heather McCorkle

  She went still as his hand moved down to her hip slowly, as if luxuriating in the feel of her curves, and gripped it firmly. Heat flushed not only between her legs but to her cheeks as well. He was awake! Mortification should have been her first response, she knew, but excitement coursed through her instead.

  “If yah don’t stop movin’ like that, angel, you’ll undo the last thread of my control,” he whispered against her ear.

  Both the feather-soft touch of his breath and the husky tone of his voice made her want to do exactly that. And the way he called her “angel” scattered the last bits of any need she may have had to maintain propriety. Head arching back so his lips touched her neck, she wiggled her buttocks against him again. Sean groaned, the sound coming out against her neck in a wonderful vibration.

  “Lettin’ go of your control does not mean lettin’ go of your honor,” she whispered to him.

  She turned her head so she could see him. His heavy-lidded eyes were brown pools of desire shot through with copper. White teeth gripped his bottom lip as if in an attempt to hold back words or something far more physical.

  “Honor isn’t colored by whether or not you lie with a woman, but what you do afterward,” she pressed.

  Neck arching to bring her closer, her tongue darted out and traced a line along his lower lip. Suddenly his hand was cradling one of her nearly bare breasts and his lips were molding to hers. Overloaded by the amazing sensation of his fingers kneading her breast through her thin silken chemise, she allowed his tongue free reign of her mouth.

  For so long she had wanted this so badly that she couldn’t believe it was actually happening. To have him finally letting go of his strict beliefs in propriety felt almost as good as the things his hands and tongue were doing. Her tongue followed his back into the warmth of his mouth, and he let it. Fingers gently squeezed her nipple, drawing a moan from her that flowed into his mouth. Heat flushed from her breast all the way down between her legs, slickening the folds of her labia. A cry of protest almost escaped her as his hand slid from her breast and began to follow the curve of her hip. It turned into another sound entirely as he worked under the edge of her chemise and his fingertips pushed under the band of her drawers, touching her bare stomach. Her breathing quickened and she began to shiver with the force of her need.

  Footsteps splashed in muddy water outside the tent, tearing her forcibly from her near-delirious state of joy. Sean’s hand froze at her pubic hairline, making her want to scream. Silently, she begged for the footsteps to continue on, but they didn’t.

  “Miss O’Brian, I have come to check on why you have not reported for work this morning. Are you all right?” came Doctor Taylor’s nasally voice.

  The sound was like a bucket of ice water pouring over her desire. In the midst of her broiling anger she couldn’t find her voice.

  “Miss O’Brian? Are you in there?”

  She looked at Sean, seeing the same toxic mixture of desire and anger building in his coppery eyes like a storm.

  “Do you need medical attention, Miss O’Brian?” Fingers brushed against canvas and the tent flap moved a bit.

  The bastard was actually going to come in!

  “No, Doctor Taylor! I am fine. I was out late seeing to the soldiers and have overslept. I will be along shortly,” she called out quickly.

  “Are you sure you did not get any frostbite? I can check if you would like.” The suggestive tone of his voice made her gorge rise.

  Sean went rigid as stone beside her, the rest of his body suddenly as hard and unyielding as his erection.

  “I am fine. And of course not. It would not be proper for you to enter my tent. I will be along shortly. Off with you!”

  Another set of footsteps approached, these quick and short. “Dat isn’t necessary, Doctor Taylor. I shall see to Miss O’Brian.” Tension eased from Ashlinn at the sound of Abigail’s voice.

  “I am afraid I have to insist. If she was out late, chances are good that she has frostbite. I must check on her myself.”

  The tent flap moved, outlining a backside as if someone had leaned against it. “Ya most surely won’t. Ain’t proper, as de lady said. De new General Burnside would send ya packin’ if ya tried,” Abigail said.

  Ashlinn wanted to hug the woman for her tenacity. While she wasn’t so sure herself about how much the new general cared about the nurses’ treatment, she loved that Abigail put that fear into Taylor.

  Teeth gnashed, punctuated by a low growl. Water splashed, followed by a very unmanly yelp. Ashlinn hadn’t even realized Cliste was outside until then.

  “Fine then. If you are well enough, Miss O’Brian, there is work to be done and you need to get to it,” Taylor snapped. Thankfully, his harsh words were followed by the splash of retreating steps.

  Soft laughter sounded. “Good dog.” After a few moments Abigail’s whisper carried through the canvas. “Ya take ya time, Miss Ashlinn. Ain’t no one else out here, just in case someone in der might wanna leave without bein’ seen.”

  A long breath eased from Ashlinn. Sean’s hand retreated from her drawers. He rolled over and sat up, facing away from her. Dread filled her as she realized he was reaching for his clothes. Sitting up beside him, she put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “Do not let that bastard ruin what we started,” she whispered.

  When he looked at her the regret in his eyes chilled her more than last night’s frost had. Her reaction must have shown because his eyes softened and he cupped her cheek with one hand.

  “If he’d caught us you’d be labeled ruined, regardless of my intentions after the fact. I can’t bear the idea of anyone thinkin’ ill of you because o’ me.”

  She leaned into his palm and trapped his hand against her face with her own. “Your opinion is the only one that matters to me. Truly.” What else could she do to make him understand that?

  Head turning away, Sean cast his gaze to the ground. “I’m not worth such an honor, literally. I’m practically penniless and can only get into society functions if I’m playin’ the violin at them.”

  Rising to her feet, she walked around in front of him and lifted his face so he would look up at her. “After all I have seen and done in this war I cannot possibly imagine puttin’ up with ‘proper society’ functions. Livin’ is what matters, not parties and society ladies hangin’ off my every word.”

  A thoughtful look entered his eyes. Knowing she had his attention now, she went on. “Those ladies only ever did so because of the coin my family possessed. Behind my back they talked about me, the woman who played at bein’ doctor. They would never truly accept me, and I do not want them to.”

  He closed his eyes as if he could no longer look at her.

  “Is it your pride that will not allow you to live off my family’s fortune? Because that would be a foolish reason to keep us apart.” She regretted the words as soon as they spilled from her lips, and yet she didn’t. It needed to be said.

  Shaking his head, he rose, arms going around her. “No, ’tis not that. I would not allow such a petty thing to keep us apart, though of course I do wish I could afford to give you the life you deserve of my own accord.”

  She relaxed against him, reveling in the feel of his skin against hers, even if the touch would only be brief. “What is it then?”

  “If I ruin you, word will get around. And if I die…” He paused and swallowed hard before giving her a direct look that sent chills across her. “Then few will have you. It would destroy me to be the reason your choices diminished.”

  Sadness made her smile feel false. “Has it not occurred to you that I would not want any other?”

  White surrounded his eyes as they grew wide. His mouth opened and moved, but no words came out. To relieve him of his torture, Ashlinn rose up on the balls of her feet and covered his open mouth with hers. As he returned her kiss with fervor, lips working against hers in a way nothing short of magical, she knew she had gotten through to him
.

  “I’s sorry, Miss Ashlinn, but de sun is comin’ up. De camp will be awake soon.” Abigail’s quiet voice came from outside the tent.

  Letting out a reluctant groan, Ashlinn drew back. “You had better go. I do not want word of you stayin’ here gettin’ back to your commandin’ officer,” she said.

  Not caring what others thought was one thing, but allowing her desires to get Sean in trouble was another entirely. That she would not do. Echoing her groan, he stepped back and picked up his clothing. She took great pleasure in drinking in the sight of his toned, naked chest in the dim light, the swell of his erection pushing against his thin drawers. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was let him walk out of this tent, but she had to, for his sake.

  One leg in his breeches, he paused. “You have to promise me one thing.”

  “O’ course.”

  His expression became so serious it was almost stern. “Don’t go out alone, especially at night. ’Tisn’t safe for a woman.”

  The words made her bristle with indignation at the idea of a woman not having the same freedom a man did. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t argue. It was true. Eyes going automatically to the folded blanket on the floor where Cliste slept, she took a deep breath.

  “I wouldn’t be alone. Cliste would be with me.”

  He leveled a hard look at her. “She wasn’t exactly capable of carrying you back. Which brings to mind, what were the two of you doing all the way out there?”

  She sighed. “At each new camp Cliste searches for my brother’s hound. She usually doesn’t go that far…” She couldn’t finish, couldn’t tell him how she had become desperate with hope that Cliste’s wanderings would lead her to Michael.

  Kneeling down on the floor beside the cot, Sean took her face in his hands. “Please promise me you won’t do it again. You could have died.”

  The agony in his voice tugged at something deep inside her and she slowly nodded. He had risked his own life to save hers. She couldn’t deny him, or put him in danger again. And besides, they hadn’t found Michael despite searching for hours in the woods.

  Satisfied, Sean flew into a flurry of action. In between each bit of clothing he donned, he came back and planted a quick kiss on her lips. By the time he was pulling his boots on she was delirious with joy from his attentions. One button of his coat done up and rifle slung over his shoulder, he pulled her into an embrace, his tongue finding hers again. Step by step, he backed up to the tent opening, holding her close and exploring her mouth all the while. Finally, Ashlinn drew back and did up the last few buttons on his coat.

  “Is it clear, Abigail?” she whispered.

  “Yes, ma’am” came her deep whisper.

  Fixing Sean with a hard stare, Ashlinn placed her hands on his chest. “This is not over.”

  He grinned like a young lad. “’Course not.”

  Satisfied, she returned the smile, spun him around, and pushed him out the tent flap. Letting him walk out was possibly the hardest thing she had ever done. Yet knowing what they had started would continue gave her the strength to do it.

  Chapter 21

  The last of his dried meat and hard tack downed, Sean sat in the relative seclusion of his tent and cleaned his rifle. Pale light just began to seep through the canvas walls when he heard the telltale sounds of tents being taken down and equipment loaded up nearby. Pulling his boots back onto his aching—though thankfully blister-free—feet, he steadied himself for what he would discover.

  Not a bit of frost remained on the soggy ground. Last night’s freeze must have been a fluke. Still, the bite in the air suggested it couldn’t be more than ten degrees or so above freezing. Slinging his clean rifle over his shoulder, he started through the misty light of dawn toward the sounds. Through the rows of tents he could see the next company over from his rapidly breaking camp. He approached a burly man with stripes on his coat sleeves.

  “Leavin’ so soon, Sarge?” he asked the man.

  The man nodded to him as he continued to tie his tent to the top of his knapsack. “That we are, and you’ll no doubt be following us soon.”

  Though his heart sank, he did his best to keep his expression neutral. “On our way to put down more of the Rebs?” he asked with mock enthusiasm.

  He wanted to win this war, he truly did, but his men needed rest before they could be at their best. Without it, they would die as easily from exhaustion as from a Rebel bullet. The other sergeant stood and leaned close to Sean.

  “The new general is sending us to march on Fredericksburg. President Lincoln just sent word of his blessing. I imagine the general will send your Fighting Irish on a special route.”

  Sean forced a grin and clapped the man on the shoulder. “You know the 69th, Fàg An Bealach. We’ll get it done for you.”

  Clear the way. It was what his regiment did, so much so that it had become their battle cry. The English among the other regiments didn’t much appreciate it, but they respected what the 69th did for them.

  The sergeant returned the grin with such fervor that his dimples pushed back his sideburns. “You always do. A fine group of fellas you lot are.” He clapped Sean on the shoulder in return, hefted his knapsack onto his shoulder, tipped his cap, and turned to give orders to his men.

  Heart heavy, Sean returned to his camp. He went from tent to tent, spreading the news to clean their weapons, eat, and rest up, because they would be on the march again soon. Knowing tongues were prone to wagging, he left out the details but made it clear that the matter was pressing. Though they groaned and protested, his men did as he bid. Green eyes narrowing as he coaxed the coals of last night’s fire back to life, Fergusson shook his head when Sean gave him the news.

  “One general refuses to run us into the ground, so they remove him and assign us another,” he grumbled.

  Eyebrow rising, Sean shook his head at the man. “Careful now. Talk like that will get you pulled up on charges.”

  Fergusson waved a hand dismissively and threw a few pieces of wood onto the burgeoning flames. “No worries. I wouldn’t say that to anyone but you.” The man’s short-trimmed beard moved as his cheeks pulled up into a grin. “Found that lass of yours last night, did yah?”

  Heat scorched Sean’s cheeks before he could stop it, revealing more than he would ever say, even to Fergusson. The over-muscled corporal laughed deep and hearty. “So yah did! I take it she’s right as rain then?”

  “Aye, but just barely. I found her collapsed out in the woods. She had gone lookin’ for that hound o’ hers.”

  He wouldn’t have revealed so much to any other man in fear of him using the information to entice Ashlinn away from camp. Not that any of his men would do such a thing, or any of the 69th for that matter. But he couldn’t speak for those of the other brigades and he had heard stories.

  Concern furrowed Fergusson’s brow. “’Tis a dangerous thing for a woman to be out alone.” He echoed Sean’s thoughts.

  “Aye, I told her as much.”

  “Did she find Cliste?” Fergusson asked

  Sean rolled his eyes and nodded. “Cliste is the one that led me to Ashlinn.”

  “Right smart dog, that one.”

  As they talked the camp began to awaken around them. Men from their company made their way out to sit by the fire and either clean their weapons or warm their breakfast. The moment they seemed idle, Sean took those that were well enough out to a nearby field and began to run them through reloading drills. It was the easiest drill he could think of, one that would keep them off their sore feet for the most part. While he wanted them rested, he also needed to keep their minds sharp and their skills even sharper. That, and he didn’t want their new general getting word that his company was being lax. The 69th hadn’t earned the name of the Fighting Irish by being lax. His lads were the best in the regiment as far as he was concerned, and he didn’t want anyone thinking otherwise.

  The day passed by at an agonizing pa
ce with no sign of Ashlinn. Thankfully, the orders to march never came, either. Sean struggled to remain focused on readying his men for battle yet again, but all he could think of was Ashlinn’s soft skin beneath his fingers, her warm body pressed up against his. In a way, these thoughts confirmed his lieutenant’s fears, but he hoped his dedication to drills and readiness cancelled them out. The last thing he needed was to be busted back down to private if the man thought he was getting distracted.

  Set up at the southern border of the encampment as they were, he also saw to it that a few of his men ran picket duty along the tree line. No one had required it of them, but Sean figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The perpetually gray sky began to swallow the sun but the clouds choked out all color that the sunset tried to cast. At first the silhouette striding toward him at a pace that could barely be called a walk, outlined by the fading light, looked like a man. But as the coat flapped with the breeze it revealed shapely hips and a bust that no man Sean had ever known possessed. The figure drew closer, moving with a light-footed gait he knew all too well. Hair all done up beneath her cap, Ashlinn’s flushed face with its high cheekbones, blue eyes, and milky skin were all woman. Her full lips reminded him of how they had started the morning and sent blood rushing to his groin. The too-wide eyes belied a concern that cooled his desire.

  “What ’tis the matter?” he asked when she reached him.

  “’Tis Cliste. I cannot find her anywhere. Have you seen her?”

  Sean thought back. “No.” He turned to Fergusson. “Have you?”

  Fergusson shook his head.

  “’Tis odd, she always visits us durin’ the day,” Sean pondered aloud.

  Brow furrowing deeper, Ashlinn turned toward the trees. “For days she has been disappearing for longer periods of time than normal, and now, this ’tis the second day she has not come back to me at all.”

  By the direction of her gaze and the look of desperation on her face, he knew what she was thinking. “I’ll help you look for her,” he said.