The Rebel Bride (Civil War Brides Series, #5)

by Piper Davenport

  Hearing the click of the doorknob, she turned to see Hannah poke her head inside. “Victoria, come get some clothes on and we’ll go downstairs for something to eat. Gwen’s here with her husband and a couple of friends.”

  “His sister?”

  Hannah stepped inside and nodded. “Yes. Come and meet her.”

  “No.” Victoria glanced back at Quincy. “I’m not leaving him.”

  “Victoria.” Hannah sighed. “You need to eat, and you can’t sit in this room all night with just a robe on.”

  “I can’t leave him.”

  Hannah laid a hand on her shoulder. “How about a compromise? Come across the hall and get some clothes on and I’ll bring you up a tray.”

  Victoria didn’t answer right away, distracted by the feeling of his strong arm under her hand. She finally nodded and stood to follow Hannah across the hall. “Hannah, who’s this Stephen person?”

  “Remember me telling you how Emma’s sister was told that the house they bought in Portland was haunted?”

  Closing the bedroom door, Victoria turned to Hannah. “Yes, didn’t some med student disappear?”

  “Yes, yes, he did,” Hannah said slowly.

  Victoria turned with a gasp. “Holy shit.”

  Hannah pulled a few things from the bureau and laid them on the bed. “Yep, Stephen was the med student. He was a kid genius and he’s a phenomenal doctor. He delivered Sophie’s baby and thinks he can come up with a few immunizations as well.”

  “That would be handy.”

  “Yes. Plus, he was also part of this pretty intense research team and remembers how to make penicillin, which might help if any of us get sick. He thinks he might be able to recreate aspirin as well. He doesn’t share his vast knowledge with everyone, because we are all trying to keep somewhat of a low profile, but it certainly makes me feel better to have him close,” Hannah said as she laid her hands protectively on her belly.

  After Victoria pulled on pantaloons and a chemise, Hannah helped her tighten her corset and asked. “How is it you know how to do this?”

  “Seriously?” Victoria groaned.

  “Yes, seriously.”

  “It’s in the genes. My coming out dress was a full replica of one of Scarlett O’Hara’s gowns from Gone with the Wind—”

  “The one she made from the curtains?” Hannah asked with a frown.

  Victoria shook her head. “No, the one she wore to the party. I was a bridesmaid in both my cousins’ weddings and of course, they went traditional. I think my mother would have me dress like this every day if she’d had her druthers. You should have seen some of the things I had to wear as a child.” Once she was fully dressed, Victoria slid her wet hair behind her ears. “I’m going back to Quincy’s room, now. Thank you for the temporary distraction.”

  Hannah smiled. “My pleasure.”

  “Actually. First, I think I should get a few things out of my bag,” Victoria said. “Do you have some clean rags I might be able to use as bandages?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll bring some up when I bring the tray.”

  Grabbing two Advil and the rubbing alcohol, Victoria made her way across the hall while Hannah went down to get strips of cloth for her. She walked into the room and saw Quinn glance her way.

  “Hi, Gus.” She quickly moved to his side. “How are you feeling?”

  He sighed. “Like I was shot.”

  “That bad, huh?” She smiled in sympathy as she looked down at him. “I have some of those painkillers for you, and Hannah is getting more bandages so that I can clean your wound.”

  Shifting slightly, he groaned. “It throbs.”

  “I’ll bet. That so-called doctor did a number on you.” She felt his forehead and swore. “Do you think you can sit up to take the pills?” He nodded, but seeing his discomfort, she put her arm around his shoulders for support. She heard his quick intake of breath as she accidentally grazed his wound. “Sorry, Gus.”

  Moving pillows behind him, she removed her arm from behind his shoulders and poured a glass of water before handing him the pills. He took them and handed her back the glass just as Hannah walked in with a tray of food and some clean bandages.

  “Thanks,” Victoria said before Hannah quietly left the room.

  “Who was that?” Quincy whispered.

  Victoria turned back to Quincy, who was resting against the headboard and watching her intently. “That was Hannah.”

  His eyes widened. “Hannah? Your friend who disappeared?”

  “Yes. She’s Christopher’s wife.” Victoria began to sort through the supplies Hannah had just brought in.

  “My brother, Christopher?” Victoria nodded distractedly.

  “Yes. Kind of a strange turn of events, don’t you think?”

  Quincy’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “This is all entirely vexing.”

  “I agree. But can we please talk about this when you’re better?” She bit her lip. “I want to concentrate on your shoulder.”

  Quincy smiled. “Worried about me, little rebel?”

  Sitting on the side of the bed, Victoria started to unbutton his shirt, her eyes flashing in mischief. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Leaning forward to gently slip the shirt off his shoulder, she frowned when she saw the mess left behind. “Butcher!”

  Standing, she stalked to the bureau to gather her supplies, muttering choice words for the doctor under her breath.

  “Victoria?”

  “Hm?” Her back was to him as she counted the strips of cloth.

  “Little rebel?”

  “What?” Turning in frustration, she was immediately contrite when she saw that his wound was oozing. “Oh, shit!” Grabbing the alcohol, she rushed back to him. “This is going to sting.”

  He glanced up at her.

  “Ready?” He nodded, and she poured the alcohol over the wound. “Sorry,” she said at his quiet groan.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m fine.”

  She put the ointment on a square of cloth and wrapped it with a bandage. “Are the pills kicking in yet?”

  “Not yet,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Could you please lie to me?” She stood and started to clean up. “Just once?”

  Quincy sighed. “Little rebel, come here.”

  “No.”

  “Victoria, please.” He held his hand out to her. Making her way back to the bed with a huff, she sat down next to him and slipped her hand into his. He smiled. “You’re taking extraordinarily good care of me. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll feel better when this Stephen person gets that bullet out.” She leaned over and felt his forehead. “I don’t like that you’re so warm.” He kissed her palm, sending a shiver up her spine. She tugged at her hand. “Don’t get fresh.”

  “Fwesh?” he slurred.

  Without warning, he didn’t seem all together with her. “Gus? Quincy? Come on, wake up.”

  Quincy’s eyes fluttered and then closed. In an effort to make him comfortable, she pulled the pillows out from behind his back and guided him down onto the mattress. Hearing his even breathing within seconds, she knew he was out cold and probably would be for a while.

  Victoria decided to see what Hannah brought for her and sighed with surprised pleasure at the smell wafting from the bowl. A chunky stew, complete with potatoes and carrots, her favorite, beckoned her rumbling stomach as she lifted the fork and dug in.

  Yum, Irish comfort food. Hannah’s doing, obviously.

  A thick slice of fresh bread, still warm from the oven sat next to the bowl, and she dipped it into the stew and sank her teeth deep into the soft dough.

  She ate quickly, not realizing how hungry she was until she took her first bite, and then settled herself in the chair next to Quincy’s bed.

  * * *

  Downstairs, Quincy’s sister, Gwen, and her closest friend, Charity Short, were in an uncharacteristically heated conversation. Highly rare for the lifelong friends.

  “Why is Millice
nt Atwood here, Char?” Gwen asked.

  “I don’t know why.” Charity flailed her hands in frustration. “She invited herself, and I couldn’t find a legitimate reason why she shouldn’t come.”

  Gwen crossed her arms with a scowl. “She’s manipulative and all together untrustworthy. Much like her brother. How’s that for a reason?”

  Charity sighed. “I know. But Mama seems to think she’s lovely and doesn’t understand why I don’t.”

  “That’s because your mother’s closest friend is Millie’s mother.” Gwen let out an unladylike snort. “She’s somewhat biased.”

  Charity nodded. “I did try to point that out, Gwen. It did not go well.”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “Did Millie say why she wanted to come?”

  “She seems to think that if she can’t have Quincy, then she might find someone in Harrisburg. She used my engagement to Richard as proof.” Charity stared at her ring and then focused back on Gwen. “Of course, now that Quincy is home, she’s convinced she can nurse him back to health and make him fall in love with her. I think she’d be willing to do anything to make that happen.”

  “She’s in for a rude awakening,” Gwen said. “Quincy can’t stand her. He thinks her vapid.”

  Charity giggled. “Well, he’s right.”

  “You’re on an evil streak today.”

  Charity shrugged. “I’m simply honest. You’re also my example, friend. Let’s not forget that.”

  Gwen glanced in Millicent’s direction. “She’ll raise his ideas if she stays.”

  “Do you think he’ll actually be angry, or just irritated?”

  “Both.”

  The girls laughed, but were interrupted by Millicent, sidling up to them. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, Millie,” Gwen said.

  “How is it, Gwendolyn, that your brother is upstairs with a bullet in his shoulder, but you’re spending your evening laughing? Shouldn’t you be a bit more reverent?”

  Charity grabbed Gwen’s hand, mostly to keep her from hitting Millicent, but also to remind her to stay calm. Gwen forced a smile. “You’re absolutely right, Millicent. How crass of me to forget.”

  “You should remember, Millie, that Gwen is also healing from a gunshot wound,” Charity pointed out.

  Gwen had been kidnapped and shot by a stray bullet when her husband, Andrew, had come to rescue her. Her injuries had been frightening, but the doctor had been able to remove the bullet and she was now healing. Not as quickly as she’d like, but definitely stronger each day.

  “I did forget about that,” Millicent admitted. “Must be why you’re hobbling like an old woman.”

  Charity squeezed Gwen’s hand again and pulled her back. Gwen took a deep breath and turned back to Millicent. “I’ll go and check on Quincy now.”

  Millicent stepped forward. “I’ll come with you.”

  Gwen held her hand up. “Millicent, I’m sorry, but only family is allowed to visit with him.”

  From the sound of Millicent’s hiss, Gwen knew she’d invoked just the response she wanted. Gwen winked at Charity and made her way upstairs.

  VICTORIA GLANCED UP as Hannah came into Quincy’s room and moved closer to the bed. Hannah smiled. “How’s the patient?”

  “He passed out after I cleaned his wound.” Victoria laid her hand gently on his forehead. “He’s running a fever, but he doesn’t seem to be in pain.”

  “Good. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  Victoria shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

  Hannah frowned. “You should really sleep.”

  “I’m not leaving him.”

  “I’ll sit with him, or Christopher will. He’s dying to know how his brother is. I’ve banned him from the room and he’s not very happy with me. Gwen’s also anxious to see her big brother. Quincy won’t be alone. I promise.”

  Victoria took a minute to think, then stood. She leaned down to feel Quincy’s forehead for the fiftieth time and sighed. He was still really warm, but she knew she shouldn’t have the monopoly on worrying about him. His family should. She stroked his cheek, his beard thick and soft under her fingers. She reluctantly let Hannah lead her from the room.

  Christopher stalled his pacing when Victoria pulled the door closed with a quiet click. A beautiful woman stood with him and Victoria assumed it was Quincy’s sister, as she looked very much like the brothers.

  “How is he?” Christopher asked.

  “He’s sleeping. Or unconscious, I’m not entirely sure,” Victoria answered. “I cleaned his wound the best I could and bandaged it again.”

  “Thank you.” Christopher turned and went through Quincy’s door.

  “Victoria, this is Gwen, Quincy’s sister,” Hannah said.

  Gwen held her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Miss Carrington.”

  “Victoria, please. Nice to meet you as well.” Victoria shook her hand. “Quincy talked fondly of you, I feel as though I know you already.”

  Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Was he a bear?”

  Victoria sighed. “Yes.”

  Gwen laughed. “Good, that means he’ll live. Thank you for taking care of him.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m going to see him now, but I look forward to getting to know you.”

  Victoria nodded and Hannah led her back to the guest room. “You must be exhausted.”

  Sitting heavily on the bed, Victoria sighed. “I am. This is all so surreal, you know?”

  Hannah pulled a nightgown from a drawer and then faced Victoria. “Tell me everything.”

  Victoria relayed the story of the FBI’s assumptions after Hannah’s disappearance and shared the story of getting stuck in the stairwell. Hannah laughed as Victoria reenacted her struggles to try and keep the door open.

  Hannah wrinkled her nose. “That never worked for me either. Partly because my legs are so short.”

  Victoria giggled. “I saw this painting. I think it might have been of your husband.”

  Hannah nodded. “The one on the wall?”

  “Yes.”

  “So unbelievably gorgeous.” Hannah sighed. “That’s what I was looking at when everything went black.”

  “Well, I was drawn to an old photograph of Quincy sitting on the little table.” Victoria bit her lip. “Although, he was clean-shaven in the photo. I remember touching the glass and smelling smoke. Then everything went black.”

  Victoria filled Hannah in on the battlefield and then the long ride to get to the townhouse.

  “I’ll say it again, then.” Hannah squeezed her shoulder. “You must be exhausted.”

  Victoria burst into tears and flopped onto her side.

  Hannah sat next to her and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, Victoria. Everything will be fine.”

  “I don’t understand any of this. It’s not possible, Hannah. I can’t be here.”

  “Well, you are here, and I’m glad.”

  Victoria punched the mattress. “But I had a chance at a great life with Ben and now it’ll never happen.”

  Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Ben?”

  Victoria sat up. “He’s the agent in charge of the investigation.”

  “Let’s just wait things out for a few days, okay?” Hannah smiled. “You could have been sent here to save Quincy. You don’t really know, right?”

  “This is so lame!” Victoria flopped back onto the bed and cried into the pillow.

  * * *

  Shaken awake by a nightmare, Victoria forced her eyes open. She was reliving the gunfire, but this time she watched Quincy actually get hit and fall slowly to the ground. She shook the cobwebs from her mind as she sat up and looked around her. Climbing off the bed, Victoria wondered what time it was, barely able to see her hand in front of her face.

  Peeking her head out the bedroom door, she saw only one sconce lit, so she assumed everyone else had gone to bed. Walking quietly across the hall, she opened Quincy’s door, let herself in, and closed the door.

 
“Victoria?” she heard him whisper.

  “You’re awake.” Moving closer to the bed, she felt his forehead and relief slicked through her when her hand was met with cool skin. Quincy pulled her hand from his forehead and kissed the palm. Victoria rolled her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore.”

  As she pulled her hand back, Quincy tugged, refusing to release her. “Gus, you’re going to need to let my hand go so I can get you some water.”

  He reluctantly let go and she poured him a glass.

  “Let’s sit you up,” she said, and helped him up then put pillows behind him. She handed him the glass and started to leave the room.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m just getting you a couple of painkillers. I’ll be right back.” Feeling her way around her bedroom, she couldn’t find her bag and she didn’t know how to light her lamp without matches, so she went back across the hall and poked her head into Quincy’s room. “Quinn? How do I light my lamp? I can’t see anything in my room.”

  Sitting up, he whispered, “Let me assist.”

  She shook her head. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’ll help, Rebel.” Bracing his hand on the edge of the mattress, he tried to climb out of the bed.

  She rushed to his side. “What are you doing, crazy man?”

  “I’m fine, Victoria.”

  Letting out a little screech when she suddenly realized the discarded sheet revealed a nicely formed thigh, she turned her back. “You’re naked.”

  “There should be trousers in the bureau.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “So?”

  “Victoria, please get me some pants.”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “Little rebel.”

  “No,” she stressed. “You shouldn’t get out of bed.”

  “Get the pants,” he ordered.

  “Make me.”

  Quincy stood.

  “What are you doing?” she squealed.