Honor Before Heart Page 6

  “What is this? Another?” came the doctor’s voice, heavy with exhaustion and a touch of despair.

  He approached them slowly, wiping his crimson hands on his already soiled apron. The wrinkles between the man’s brows knitted together so tightly they suggested he hadn’t stopped scowling in years. Pain and sadness shone in his eyes, but cold detachment hid it almost completely. Sean stopped walking. He didn’t want that man’s hands anywhere near his wounds.

  “Aye, Doc. A missin’ one found his way home,” the soldier escorting them said.

  Bushy brows narrowed over muddy brown eyes as the doctor perused Sean. “Missing or deserted? I have no time for deserters who are just going to be hanged.”

  Back straightening, Sean glared down at the shorter man, his good hand curling into a fist. “I am no deserter. I was wounded and left on the field of battle.”

  The doctor snorted. “And yet here you stand.”

  A wool coat brushed lightly against his arm as Ashlinn stepped between him and the doctor. One hand went to her hip while her other pointed at the doctor’s gory chest. “I will not stand for you disrespecting this honorable soldier. He was indeed badly wounded and I tended to him in the field. We only just arrived because of the severity of his wounds and a fever that laid him low over a day.”

  The doctor’s eyes narrowed to slits. His lips pulled back from his teeth in an expression that resembled a snarl far too much for Sean’s liking.

  “I should have known that was you.” The last word was said like a vile curse. “Been out prowling the battlefield again in that ridiculous disguise, I see. This man is lucky if he survived your convoluted ministrations.” Though the doctor’s voice was full of contempt, the begrudging desire shining in his eyes contradicted it.

  Fingers curling into fists, Sean had to remind himself to breathe before he could push words out through his clenched teeth. “Luck had nothin’ to do with it. I would have died if not for her.”

  Lips pursing, the doctor beckoned to him. “Really? Let us see these wounds then,” he said in an unconvinced tone.

  Ashlinn helped Sean remove his coat and began to work on his bandages. The doctor stepped closer, ducking a shoulder into Ashlinn, starting to push her out of the way. She pushed him back until she stood before Sean, blocking him from the doctor completely.

  “You will not touch my patient with your filthy hands. For the love of cleanliness, man, wash first,” she warned, voice filled with cold promise.

  The doctor shook his head. “You and your foolish notions. Get out of the way, woman. This is men’s work.”

  He shoved her back so hard she crashed into the foot of a bed. The soldier within it let out a groan and stirred in his sleep. She saved herself from falling, but just barely. The doctor reached for Sean. Quick as a water snake, Sean’s good hand lashed out and caught the doctor’s hand, twisting and turning it at an angle. Emitting a rather unmanly squeal, the doctor rose up on his toes and turned to try and relieve the pressure on his wrist, but to no avail.

  “Release me to her care, and her care alone,” Sean demanded in an even tone.

  Nose scrunching up, the doctor shook his head. “Unhand me! Her crackpot treatments are likely the reason you developed a fever in the first place.”

  Sean’s gaze flicked to the blood-soaked table and its latest occupant. “Says the man who just left a butchered corpse lyin’ on a table.”

  The wrinkles between the doctor’s brows deepened and sadness peeked through his detachment again. Unable to feel anything but contempt for him after the way he had treated Ashlinn, Sean shoved the doctor back into the aisle, releasing his wrist.

  The doctor shook his head. “Fine, you daft Irishman. You are released to her care. She alone is responsible for your health now. But, do not come haunting me when she kills you. Now get out of my hospital.”

  Hiding a wince of pain, Sean tossed his coat over one arm, walked to Ashlinn, and offered her his hand. She accepted it and rose from where she leaned on the foot of a bed. Once on her feet, Sean offered his arm, which she took slowly.

  The soldier who had escorted them in cleared his throat and stood taller as their attention shifted back to him. “Right then. I will let the lieutenant know you have returned, Corporal, and the lads and I will bring your things over to a tent beside the nurse’s.”

  Sean gave the man a smile he hoped looked more convincing than it felt. “Thank you, private, that would be much appreciated.”

  Turning their backs to the doctor, they started for the exit. Ashlinn trembled against him and he thought he heard her sniffling. The urge to apologize burned the back of his throat but he swallowed it. He could not apologize for defending her. Hard day or not, the doctor had been uncouth and out of line. The very thought of the man touching him with those bloodstained hands sent a shiver of fear through Sean. No, he would far rather his life were in Ashlinn’s delicate hands. Looking at Ashlinn’s straight back and lifted chin as she all but marched beside him, he couldn’t help but wonder if his motives had been more selfish.

  Chapter 8

  Three hairpins later, most of Ashlinn’s blond locks finally had been tamed back into a braid that reached down between her shoulder blades. Still, she fussed with stray bits of it here and there, seeking perfection. With shaking hands, she smoothed the skirt of her simple blue work dress. A pang of self-consciousness twinged within her.

  The ladies of New York would scoff at such a drab thing. They, however, didn’t have to labor over bleeding men all day. While she didn’t either right now, as her day of work was over, she didn’t have any other dresses that didn’t have bloodstains. The only thing the garment had going for it besides a nicely fitted bodice was a skirt that was scandalously short. Had she been wearing a fancy pair of shoes her ankles should have shown. But all her fancy shoes were a world away back in New York. All she had in this muddy, dreary place was her calf-high working boots.

  One last look in the tiny mirror propped upon her trunk made her cringe at the dark circles beneath her eyes. She tried to convince herself that it had to do with the candlelight, but the yawn fighting its way through spoke otherwise. Graveyard rounds were all the doctor would permit her to do, but she wasn’t about to let him win by giving up. The soldiers needed her.

  Tonight was about one soldier in particular. Three days from their arrival and Sean was finally feeling good enough for a bit of exercise. He had asked her to join him in a walk along the river. The very thought brought heat to her cheeks, turning them a nice color. It was a shame he was bringing along another soldier as chaperone. Often she found herself longing for the time they had spent alone. Such wicked thoughts added a smile along with her blush. Of course, she wouldn’t risk her heart by allowing feelings for the man to form, but a little harmless flirting couldn’t hurt.

  A soft woof came from the opening of her tent. Gathering her skirt so it didn’t catch on anything in the cramped area, she went to the flap and opened it. Big tail wagging, a grin exposing her canines, stood Cliste. Beside her, a young soldier stood at attention, his left brow twitching each time Cliste’s tail smacked his leg. Ashlinn glanced over at Sean’s dark tent, suddenly fearful that he had sent this man along to cancel for him, or worse.

  “Hello,” she managed through a tightening throat.

  “Hello, ma’am. The general has sent me to invite you to a ball to be held tomorrow night to celebrate the visit of President Lincoln.”

  A hand flew to her chest as if to stop her thundering heart from trying to leap out of its cage. Relief weakened her knees but resolve kept her upright. So many thoughts and concerns raced through her mind that she found it impossible to give voice to even one of them. Perhaps she would be able to speak to a general, or at least a lieutenant, at such an event and try to convince them to send out search parties for missing soldiers. The young soldier extended an envelope and a pencil to her.

  “The general asks that you provide your dress and
shoe size so that he may send along proper attire.”

  It felt more like a command than an invitation, one delivered in a polite, respectful tone, but a command nonetheless. It had been two years since she had worn something fine and danced about a ballroom, so she wasn’t about to argue. Then, of course, there was the small matter of the President of the United States being present. Surely she’d never get close enough to speak to him, but others perhaps. She accepted the offered objects, opened the envelope, wrote her name and size on the paper inside, and handed it back.

  “Thank you, private,” she said with a slight curtsy.

  “You are quite welcome, ma’am.” He tipped his cap to her and moved on toward another nurse’s tent.

  All the nurse’s tents had been pitched in this small area between the hospital and the grounds of the plantation manor. Not only did the general deem it a safer place for the women, but as the only place on the property left with any grass, it was also the cleanest. He wanted his soldiers’ hospital in the best possible location. Ashlinn had gained quite a bit of respect for the man once she had heard that. This invitation, though, she wasn’t sure what to think of.

  “Has that patient of yours died yet?” An ugly croak of a voice interrupted her musings.

  The very sound of the doctor’s voice made the hair on the back of her neck stir. Damn, why hadn’t she returned inside her tent, or gone to Sean’s?

  “Of course not. He improves every day.”

  The temptation to brag about how well his stitches were taking and the lack of any signs of infection grew, but she suppressed it. This man did not deserve to know how Sean was doing and she was not about to tell him simply for the sake of bragging. When it came to treatment of her and the other nurses, this one was far worse than the doctor who had died out on the battlefield.

  An almost imperceptible growl rumbled from Cliste as the hound moved between Ashlinn and the approaching doctor. In dark breeches and a beige shirt that bore no visible signs of bloodstains, the man was almost presentable. That was, if you could look past the dark sideburns of hair that clung to cheeks that turned into chops, which Ashlinn could not. It wasn’t that she only fell for only a handsome face. The deep lines between this man’s brows from constantly furrowing them and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from sneering too much were hard to look past. Crumbs clung to his bushy mustache and his jaw worked at some type of food or another.

  A smile full of anything but joy slid onto the doctor’s face. “Well, in that case he will be ready to rejoin his brigade in no time.”

  His eyes traveled her body, lashes low like spiders trying to cover their tracks. But she noticed. Oh yes, she noticed. She wished for her coat, a shawl, anything to cover the bit of cleavage her square neck dress revealed.

  Ashlinn’s throat tightened at the thought but she smiled back to hide her reaction, lifting her chin. “Indeed he will.”

  For the briefest moment, something like regret flashed in the doctor’s eyes. He extended something to her: crackers wrapped in wax treated paper, a rare thing in the midst of war. A slightly sweet scent wafted up from them.

  “All the way from New York. Would you like some?” he asked in a voice sweet as syrup.

  She turned her nose up. “No, thank you.”

  His beady eyes shot to Cliste for a brief moment, then back to Ashlinn. “McClellan only wants the women there as pretty play things, you know.”

  Casting her eyes up and to the side, she shook her head. “The general is much more intelligent than that. He seeks to bring a sense of civility to the president’s visit. One can hardly blame him.”

  “You give the man too much credit; he is still a man.” He cleared his throat and stood straighter. “Regardless, a woman should not go unescorted to such a function.”

  Dread as wet and cold as a New York fall morning seeped into her. Her mind scurried for an excuse to end the conversation but nothing would come to her. Footsteps squished upon wet grass and she turned toward them eagerly.

  “Ah, Ashlinn, there you are. I was just comin’ to fetch you for our walk,” Sean said as he approached.

  Tail wagging with such exuberance that her entire backside swayed, Cliste trotted to Sean’s side, sticking her nose in his hand. He scratched between her ears, grinning down at her as if she were the grandest thing in all the world. Dark breeches and a blue shirt fit his fine frame quite nicely, revealing just a bit of the swell of his bicep and the curve of his behind. Realizing she was staring, Ashlinn looked down, pretending to smooth her dress. That nicely curved bicep appeared in front of her.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  She accepted his arm a bit too readily. “Indeed, before we lose the light.”

  The doctor puffed his chest out like a red rooster and sputtered several times before getting any words out. “Surely you are not gallivanting about unescorted.”

  Sean grinned and looked behind the doctor. “O’ course not. I may be a soldier, but I am also a gentleman.”

  The doctor spun around and glared at the uniformed soldier standing at attention behind him. When he looked back at them, Ashlinn had to hide a smile behind her hand.

  “Good day then, Doctor,” Sean said as he began to lead Ashlinn toward the manor house.

  Shooting the doctor a brief growl, Cliste shot out ahead of them.

  In her free hand, Ashlinn held her skirts up until they cleared the occasional muddy areas and made it to the dense green grass. Soon they were out of the maze of tents with nothing but the sight of the sprawling southern manor and its surrounding lawn before them. The warmth of Sean’s arm looped around hers made her long for him to move closer so she could feel more of his body. To her dismay, he truly did act the gentleman and kept his distance. If only she could cover her ears and block out the constant buzz of the encampment, then she would be able to pretend they weren’t in the midst of a war.

  “I do apologize if I interrupted your conversation with the doctor,” he said after a while.

  “Do not apologize for rescuing me. In fact, I hope that you will consider interrupting any time you see the doctor having a conversation with me.”

  Sean laughed. The deep, carefree sound echoed down into Ashlinn’s soul, tingling in the most amazing way. Heat warmed her cheeks and she used the excuse to look back at the soldier following them to hide her blush.

  “Very well then. I shall consider it my duty to rescue you any time I see you in his presence.”

  “Thank you,” she managed in a soft voice peppered with pain.

  He looked down at her. “You should not let that blaggard get to you.”

  She swallowed hard, mustering up the courage to speak. “’Tis more than his surly attitude. When my brothers were wounded, it was he who treated them. They died on his table.” Why she was being so open and forward with this man, she had no idea. All she knew was that his presence soothed her, put her at ease in a way little did now days.

  “I am sorry. I did not think ’twas possible to dislike the man more, but now I do. But he was right about one thing, you know.”

  Her gaze whipped back up to him. “That, I find hard to believe. What could he possibly be right about?”

  His wonderful copper eyes met hers, the sunbursts of darker brown around the pupil drawing her in. “It would be best if you had an escort to the ball, and I would be most honored if you would allow me to be that escort.”

  Ashlinn’s eyes widened before she remembered her manners, swept her long lashes over them, and nodded. “I would be most honored to attend with you.”

  “It is I who will have the honor. What is your favorite color? I shall send along a request to General McClellan about the dress.”

  Her blush returned with a vengeance, scalding her cheeks and making her wish the evening were cooler. “No need to go to all that trouble for me. I shall be happy with whatever he sends along.”

  The devilish grin he gave her made an entirely differ
ent kind of heat spread through far more scandalous parts of her body. “Perhaps you would allow me to choose a color.”

  She inclined her head, mostly to hide her red cheeks. “Certainly. I am curious to see what it will be.”

  The river soon came into view, undulating along the edge of the plantation property like a lazy snake on a sultry summer day. Cliste bounded right for the water, sending droplets flying everywhere as she plunged in with an abandon that Ashlinn envied. Though clouds still lingered in the sky, it hadn’t rained all day, making the combination of heat and humidity stifling. The subdued light cast by the setting sun softened the edges of everything, giving the scene a gentle look that clashed with the chaos behind them. Frogs croaked and bugs buzzed, a reminder that life in nature went on despite their war.

  Though he didn’t so much as let out a groan, Ashlinn could tell by how he stiffened after a while that Sean’s side began to hurt. This was his first real exercise since they had returned. She had insisted he rest for a few days with little activity. Pretending to fuss with her skirts, she slowed her pace.

  “Why do you think the president is coming to visit?” she asked as they turned to walk along the grassy riverbank.

  Sean let out a long breath and shook his head as he looked down at his boots. “General McClellan wrote him a letter.”

  “A letter?”

  “Aye. He beseeched the president to focus the efforts of the war on preservin’ the Union instead of endin’ slavery.”

  The tension lacing his words told her he wasn’t exactly happy about that.

  “And this bothers you.”

  His jaw tightened as he cast his gaze out over the slow moving river. “Aye. We cannot be unified when a third of our people are slaves.”