by Ana Seymour
Bleeding made no sense to her. They had bled her mother time and again, and it had only hastened the wasting process of her illness. Trask’s knife had already taken more blood out of Ethan than any man should lose in a lifetime. It was the fever that was killing him now. His body was burning up.
With sudden resolution she stood and threw back the heavy goosedown tick that covered him. Dr. Fulton had draped wool wraps around his neck and chest. They were hot and wet. She pulled them away from his skin and threw them in a heap onto the floor. His shirt was soaked, too. She grasped it from the hem and started pulling it up toward his neck. “Help me, Ethan,” she begged. “We need to get this wet shirt off you.”
Something in his delirium responded, because his body cooperated as she drew the garment over his head. Then she lifted him in her arms and tucked a cool, dry sheet underneath his back. When she had him settled down again, she took a clean towel and began drying off his face, neck and bare chest.
She was still working over him when the doctor returned with Colonel Bouquet.
“Mistress Forrester!” he exclaimed. “Have you lost your mind?”
Ethan’s ravings had already quieted. “He was too hot,” she said firmly.
“Of course he was hot. He’s got a terrible fever, and if you expose him to cold, he’ll die on us for sure.”
The doctor had an annoying habit of sniffing between every few words. When they had first arrived, she’d been utterly relieved to give Ethan over to a real doctor’s care. Now she just wished he would go away. “According to you, he’s going to die for sure anyway, so just let me try this. It makes more sense than sucking more blood out of him when he’s already lost so much.”
The doctor looked helplessly at Colonel Bouquet, who shrugged and said, “Since Captain Reed has no family here, I think we can consider Mistress Forrester as next of kin for this patient. Which means that she has the authority to approve the treatment given.”
Hannah gave him a grateful look. She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing, but something within her told her that Ethan was already better. Though he was still unconscious, his body was calm and his expression much more peaceful.
“If that is the case,” the doctor said with one of his sniffs, “I will not be responsible for the results.”
“I think Mistress Forrester understands that, Doctor.”
“I’ll bid you good-night then and check back in the morning,” Fulton said, closing his bag with a snap.
Bouquet stayed a moment after the doctor had descended the steep stairs to the door. He watched Ethan with a worried expression. “I think I’ve done what Ethan would have wanted,” he told Hannah.
She nodded. “I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“He looks a little better than he did at supper time.”
“Yes, I believe he does.”
The colonel gave her a little pat of reassurance and then told her that he would be in his bedroom next door if she should need anything.
When he left, she sank down on the chair beside Ethan and took one of his hands in both of hers. His skin felt much cooler. “Am I killing you or curing you, my darling?” she asked under her breath. The endearment surprised her, but sounded right once it was out of her mouth.
With his hand still clasped in hers, she put her head down on the bed and dozed.
The bedside candle had almost burned to the bottom of its stand when she jerked awake again. She hadn’t intended to actually sleep, and for a moment she felt a surge of panic. But Ethan’s breathing seemed even and normal. More normal, in fact, than it had for some time. His skin felt dry, and his face had lost the red flush of fever. He looked pale but relaxed, almost as if in a regular sleep.
She let out a sigh of relief and lifted his hand to her cheek. When she looked back at his face again, his eyes were open, watching her. “What day is it?” he asked, his speech thick.
She clutched his hand in excitement and gave a shaky laugh. “I have no idea.”
“But I am alive, right?”
“Aye.” She wanted to burst into tears.
He twisted his head from side to side. “Where’s my shirt?”
“I took it off you. You were too hot.”
He looked surprised. “Where are we?”
“We’re in Colonel Bouquet’s house. But, Ethan, perhaps you’d better not talk. You’ve been gravely ill.”
He closed his eyes, then opened them again and moistened his dry lips with his tongue. “And you’ve been nursing me?”
“Aye.”
“What…” He seemed to be trying to force liquid into his mouth so that he could continue his questioning. “What does Webster say about that?”
“He…he gave me permission. We all want you to get well.”
He opened his mouth several times without words. His eyes closed, and he seemed to be drifting off again. She leaned toward him to hear what he was trying to say. “—called me darling,” he mumbled as he lapsed once more into unconsciousness.
In three more days Ethan had recovered so remarkably that not even Hannah could stand to be around him. Two days after the doctor had given him up as hopeless, he had rudely pushed aside the gruel they had brought to feed him and had demanded real food from the officers’ mess. By the next day he was shouting for his clothes and yelling loud enough to be heard in the commandant’s office downstairs that if they didn’t let him get up, he would jump out the window into the middle of the yard stark naked.
Bouquet had mounted the steep steps with a stern admonishment, and had told a harried Hannah to leave her difficult patient to his sulks and take the afternoon off.
With a sigh of relief, she’d slipped out of the room and headed toward the row of barracks where the Destiny River settlers had been given housing for the winter. Now that the worry over Ethan’s condition was receding, she had time to consider the reality of her current situation. She had all but declared her love for an impossible man who would no doubt be riding off to meet with some Indians or explore some new river the minute the colonel would let him get on a horse. She had turned down the devotion of one of the finest men she had ever met and had rejected his offer of marriage and a wonderful future. She had most likely lost the chance to be a mother to Peggy and Jacob, to be a part of their lives as they grew into adulthood. As she neared the barracks, her pace grew slower and slower. What was left for her?
They were all sitting around the table at one end of the long room that also served as the sleeping quarters for Randolph, Seth and Jacob. The women and girls slept in a similarly rough room adjoining. They were free to take their meals with the officers, but sometimes Nancy and Eliza, with the three girls trailing along behind, visited the fort kitchens and brought the food back so that the settlers could dine with a little bit of privacy.
They had finished the midday meal and the children had gone off to their play, but the adults were all still sitting around the table when Hannah walked in, her face pensive. They looked over at her with surprise.
Eliza stood immediately and went to her. “What is it? Is Captain Reed worse?”
Hannah shook off her gloom and smiled. “No. He’s so much better that he’s become quite unbearable.”
Everyone smiled at the news except Randolph, who avoided Hannah’s eyes.
“So now I can ease up on my nursing and resume my duties back here again.”
Eliza took her arm and led her to the table. “How about if you just rest a little first. Have you eaten?” When Hannah shook her head, Eliza served her a heaping bowl of venison stew and plunked it down in front of her, setting a spoon in her hand as if she were a baby. “I want you to eat every bite. Land sakes girl, you’re going to end up in the sickbed, too.”
Randolph agreed, his voice sharp. “If Reed doesn’t need you anymore, Hannah, you’d best see to yourself. How long since you’ve had a good night’s sleep?”
Nancy reached across to pat Hannah’s hand. She said, “Eliza, Randolph, I know y
ou mean well. But you’re badgering the poor girl. Hannah can take care of herself. She’s certainly taken care of all of us well enough at one time or another. Just let her be.”
Hannah flashed her a grateful and surprised smile. It wasn’t like the Nancy she knew to stand up for anyone, not even for herself.
Eliza sat down next to Hannah, her eyes moving from the spoon to the stew, as if willing her friend to take a bite. Hannah couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt any real appetite, but when she lifted a spoonful to her mouth, it tasted quite good. Perhaps they all were right. She had taken care of Ethan, now she needed to start taking care of herself.
“We’ve just had some news, Hannah. About Pontiac’s alliance,” Seth said, leaning backward to settle against the log wall.
Hannah looked up from her stew. In the intensity of her vigil at Ethan’s side, she had almost forgotten about the rest of the world. Forgotten the reason that they were at the fort instead of back on the Destiny.
Randolph took over the telling. “The French have refused to provide him the support he was counting on, so the tribes are retreating westward.”
Hannah paused with her spoon in midair. “So we can go back to our settlement?” she asked with excitement.
Randolph looked around the circle of faces. They waited for him to continue. “We’re not going back, Hannah.”
Eliza leaned her head on Hannah’s shoulder. “Remember, I told you what Seth and I had decided,” she said gently.
“But if the Indian problem is solved…”
Seth turned a loving look on his wife. “Eliza and I have realized that our enemies were not the Indians, but our memories. We’re heading home so that we can make those memories into our friends.”
“And I…” Randolph turned his face away from Hannah. “The children and I have decided that we will escort Nancy and her children back to Philadelphia.”
Something in the way he made the statement gave Hannah pause. She looked over at Nancy, who was blushing. With her pale white skin, Nancy had blushed often when her husband had said things to embarrass her, but the expression behind this blush was pleasure rather than pain.
“You’re giving up the settlement?” Hannah asked slowly.
Randolph finally met her eyes. “There’s no one left to make a settlement with,” he said without apology.
I’m left, Hannah wanted to say. But she had already lost the right to make that statement.
“Do the children want to go back?”
“Peggy wants to go with Janie and Bridgett, and Jacob can’t wait to get home and tell his friend Benjie that he saw real Indians.”
“I see.”
“Of course, you’ll be coming with us, too. It will be just like before.”
Not just like before, Hannah thought as she pushed away the bowl of stew. She hadn’t been asked her opinion about going back, because her opinion no longer mattered. She was once again a servant. She went where her master went. And now in the Webster household, she would never be more than a servant. As she watched the blush fade from Nancy’s face, she noticed a new soft glow m the woman’s eyes, which were fixed on Randolph. No, Hannah thought. It would decidedly not be like before.
It was evening before she made her way back to the commandant’s house. She hoped that Ethan would be at least a little chastened by her long absence and be ready to behave better than he had that morning. She felt too melancholy to put up with bullying.
He was apparently asleep when she entered the tiny bedroom, but he opened his eyes immediately and gave her a smile that put a little bounce in her step as she made her way across the room. “So you’ve decided to come back to me,” he said softly.
She approached the bed. “After all your hollering this morning, I should have stayed away until tomorrow.”
He grinned. “Then you would have really heard some hollering.”
He looked entirely back to normal. His skin had regained its usual ruddy color. His hair was washed and shiny. He had even shaved, or someone had done it for him. She sat alongside him on the bed. “I do believe you were spoiled as a lad, Captain Reed.”
“I was not,” he said indignantly.
“Well, someone has spoiled you, then.”
“A few ladies, perhaps…” he began teasingly, then stopped at her expression.
“Ladies like Polly McCoy, I suppose. The commandant says she’s been here asking for you. I suppose I should send word that you’re ready for… visitors.” She shifted from her seat on the bed to the nearby chair where she had spent so many hours over the past few days.
“Don’t, sweetheart,” he said with a frown. He patted the bed at the spot she had abandoned. “Sit here. I like having you close to me. And I’m just teasing about the ladies spoiling me. Most of them thought I was an ornery cuss who deserved to be thrown out on his rear.”
Hannah smiled in spite of herself. She moved back to the bed, and he snatched her hand so that she couldn’t move again. “I didn’t see Mistress McCoy throwing you out,” she said, not entirely mollified.
“Actually she did—a time or two. But none of that is of any concern to us.”
Hannah looked down at their joined hands. “What exactly is of concern to us?” she asked softly.
He pulled her closer, sliding her along the feather bed. “Well, for one thing. I’ve been meaning to get something clear. Did I or did I not hear you calling me darlin’ when I was so sick out of my head.”
Hannah thought for a moment before answering. She had worn her emotions on her sleeve for days now. Randolph, the commandant, probably the entire fort knew of her feelings for Ethan. It didn’t seem to make much sense to hide anymore. “I might have,” she answered.
He sat up in bed and propped himself against the wall. “Might have?” he asked with a touch of irritation.
She gave a stubborn nod. That was all he was going to get from her. After all, he had never made the least declaration of his feelings.
“All right,” he said briskly. “Let’s suppose you did say it. Tell me something, Hannah Forrester. How many men have you called ‘darling’ in your life-time?”
He sounded so self-confident that Hannah began to get irritated herself. “Dozens,” she replied.
Suddenly he pulled on the hand he still held and lifted her with his other arm so that she lay sprawled against the upper part of his body, her face next to his. “Liar,” he growled. Then he kissed her hard. He folded his arms around her and held her immobile while he hungrily assaulted her mouth with his lips and tongue and teeth.
Hannah struggled in his arms, which had lost none of their strength during his ordeal. “You can’t be doing this,” she protested. “You’re not recovered.”
“You’re wrong,” he muttered. With his mouth still on hers, he turned with her until she lay against the bed. His otherwise bare chest was still wound with a wide linen bandage. “You’ll hurt yourself, Ethan,” she said weakly.
He had not stopped his kisses. Hannah was starting to feel dizzy.
“Call me darling,” he muttered.
“Then will you stop? Ethan, darling, let me go,” she said sternly.
He threw back his head and laughed. “We can work on the tone a little, I think. But we have a lot of time for that.” He gently kissed her nose, then her chin. “Because you see, Hannah Forrester, I don’t ever intend to let you go.”
Hannah’s head was spinning too fast to think about what he meant by his words, but her heart gave a great thud as she heard them.
She looked toward the door, which stood open to the hall. “Please, Ethan. Be sensible. You’re supposed to be resting, and the door’s wide open and…”
Ethan rolled off her and turned back toward the door. “Hmm.” He gave her a little push. “Why don’t you just go shut the door and turn the lock?”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
He shrugged and pulled himself on top of her again. “All right. I doubt anyone will come by except Bouquet, oh, and
maybe the doctor….”
Hannah slid out from beneath him and walked over to the door, closing it firmly and turning the iron key. She moved to face him, leaning her back against the door. Ethan lay watching her, his arms folded across his chest. There was a feral look to his dark eyes.
“I…I guess I’d better leave now,” she stammered.
His teeth showed white in the dim room. “Come here,” he said in a low voice.
She put her hands behind her, clutching the cold metal of the doorknob. “No. I’m leaving. And I’m not coming back until you agree to act the way a sick man should act.”
Without the least appearance of being a sick man, he rolled easily off the bed and came toward her, totally naked except for the stark white strip of bandage. When he was standing practically on top of her, he bent, nipped the edge of her earlobe and whispered, “If you’re so intent on leaving, why did you lock the door?”
Realizing her mistake, Hannah fumbled behind her for the key, but suddenly Ethan swept her up in his arms and turned toward the bed. “Perhaps I can relieve your conscience by…” He paused to twist one hand around to start unfastening her clothes. “By convincing you that I have fully regained my strength.”
Hannah was already convinced. After so many days of watching him helplessly fighting the poisons of his wound, it filled her with elation to see him hearty and demanding once again. He set her down and finished removing her clothes while she stood without protest in a happy daze.
He lifted her easily onto the bed, but she saw him wince as his back hit the hard mattress. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she asked.
He laughed and ran his tongue along the edge of her jaw. “I’m definitely up to it, sweetheart,” he said fiercely, and he moved his lower body against hers to leave no doubt about the issue. “But if it will make you happier, I’ll let you do the work this time.”
At her questioning look, he laughed again and lifted her so that she was straddling him. Soft parts of her rubbed against hard parts of him, and she felt an immediate surge of wanting. She rose up on her knees, then down again, and smiled when Ethan gave a little groan of satisfaction.