BBW ROMANCE: BWWM Romance: A Cowboy’s Southern Comfort (Military Cowboy Pregnancy Romance) (Interracial Army Contemporary Fantasy Romance Short Stories) (34 page)

“Aw bloody hell,” one of the robbers said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She listened to their footsteps pounding on the cobblestone before she picked up her skirts and hurried to the victim. The man was on his side in the streets. To her horror, she saw that blood was flowing freely from his side.

“Oh dear,” she muttered to herself. “Come on. We need to get you somewhere safe. Can you hear me, sir? Can you walk?”

He only moaned and cursed, and she hooked her arms around him and struggled to get him up. As he leaned heavily on her, she could feel the blood seeping into her clothes.

So much for her dress.

“My place is just around the corner,” she assured him. “We’ll fetch a doctor once we get you inside. Can you make it that far? It’s about fifty feet, and then you’ll have to manage some stairs.”

He cursed in response, and she frowned. Still, he dragged his feet, and she supported him until she reached the door that led to her flat. He grunted at each step, but finally she had him in her room. The man collapsed on the floor, and she hurried to grab some candles, towels, and warm water.

“Try to lie still,” she said as she scurried about. “Too much movement could make you bleed faster. I worry that it may be too late to wait for the doctor.” Lighting the candles, she finally got a good look at the strange man in her home.

It took everything in her not to gasp. He was rich. That much was certain. Aristocracy, no doubt. And he was handsome. Those sculpted cheekbones were enough to make any woman swoon, and that dark hair was tantalizing. He studied her wordlessly, and she felt a shiver travel down her spine as she glanced as his piercing green eyes.

Rich and handsome. Part of her wondered if she should have just left him.

“Don’t be shy,” she commanded. “I’m not a blushing maiden. Let’s see the wound.”

He didn’t say a word as she pushed his coat aside and lifted his shirt. The wound was deep, but it didn’t bleed as though it had hit anything serious. “My last husband was an angry drunk, and I stitched up more wounds that I would like to admit. I can fetch the doctor, if you’d prefer, or I can stitch it up here and now. Which would you prefer?”

“Do it,” he rasped.

“Very well. It’s going to be painful. Can you make it to the bed? I don’t want to leave you on the floor if you pass out.”

Carefully, they maneuvered him to the bed. He sat upright, but she could see the pain in his eyes. Grabbing her needle, thread, and a bottle of whiskey, she went to work. Her fingers trembled as they pressed against her skin, and she blamed it on the dying light and the strange circumstances. But the truth was that his gaze alone affected her. Her mouth dried and her heart beat erratically. She’d never felt such weakness, and she tried to push it aside. Now was not the time to act like a lovesick child.

Surprisingly, he did not pass out during her work. When she was done, he allowed her to dress his wounds. “I’ll do my best to wash out the blood, but you may find that your clothing are ruined. It’s a shame really. Did you get this cloth from India? It’s quite beautiful.”

He didn’t answer, and when she turned, she realized that he was fast asleep. It was just as well. The sooner he recovered his strength, the sooner she could get the rich and handsome devil out of her home.

***

The sun filtered through the window of the small residence. Stuart Windsor woke rested but disoriented. The mattress beneath him was hard, and a strange pain lanced through his side. Blinking, he stilled his body and listened.

Someone was quietly humming from another part of the room. He could smell the faint aroma of roasting coffee beans and listened to the soft hiss of a kettle. Immediately, he was flooded by recent memories.

Irritated by the demands of his betrothed, he’d gone for a walk late in the evening. The rain forced him to take shelter in the poorer part of town, and when he’d chanced to return home, he’d been bombarded by two men with uneducated speech patterns and a deadly blade.

He remembered little after he’d been stabbed, but he did recall the soft voice of a beautiful woman. She’d saved his life and stitched him back together. He knew without a doubt that he would be forever in her debt.

Moving as quietly as possible, he tested his mobility. Stuart could sit upright in bed, but the pain was far greater than he expected. Still, he endured quietly as he tried to take in his surroundings.

The lodging was small. It included only the small bed in which he slept, a stove and table in the opposite corner, and a rocking chair by the window. There was a shelf with several books and mementos and an armoire. Stuart usually only saw lodging like this when he enjoyed the attentions of women, but he’d never stayed the night in one such as this.

“You’re awake. How do you feel?”

Slowly, he appraised the women standing over the stove. She was small with fiery red ringlets that fell around her face and porcelain skin. Her eyes were dark like coffee, and her lips were lush and inviting. She had a tiny waist, but her other features were enough to make a man like him fantasize about filling his palms with curves.

Still, he recalled her bravery last night. She might look slight, but he had a feeling there was more to her than meets the eye. “Do you know who I am?” he said in a raspy voice.

Her eyebrows shot up, and an amused smile played on her lips. “Are you asking because you can’t recall or because you believe your status is worth noting?”

Feisty, indeed. “My lady, I only ask because I would hate to think that I was rude enough to steal your bed for the night and not introduce myself.”

“Well, I would forgive such impertinence. You were in quite a state last night. And that brings me to my previous question. How are you feeling? I would like to take a look at the wound and make sure that it’s not infected.”

“You’re thorough,” he commented as his voice grew husky. Yesterday evening he’d nearly died, and this morning he was more than ready to attempt to bed the angel that stood before him. Never in his life had his body reacted in such a way to a woman. Of course, he’d had so many women that he was beginning to wonder if he would tire of them.

Obviously not.

“My name is Jacqueline Baker. You may call me Jackie. I’m sure my lodging is not up to your standards, but I will not apologize. Now then, feel free to introduce yourself and then strip yourself of your bandages.”

“Stuart Windsor, my lady. And I would never ask an apology from the woman who saved my life.”

She flushed a deep red. “Mr. Windsor, anyone would have done the same. Or is it Lord Windsor?”

“If you would allow me to call you Jackie, then I believe Stuart would be just fine.” Duke of Billington was his proper title, but he wasn’t about to tell her that just yet. Sometimes the title alienated him from what he wanted.

And the whole town no doubt knew of his impending marriage to the powerful and rich Mary Westin. Although beautiful, the Lady Westin was known for her cold heart and iron fist. Stuart knew that King Henry enjoyed the idea of his rakish duke marrying the ice queen, but Stuart had no intentions of changing his ways. It would take more than a marriage to a feared women to do that.

Jackie crossed the room and began to unbind the wrapping around his torso. He was surprised by the sudden hitch in his breath and acceleration of his heartbeat. When she touched him, it was like someone was scorching his skin. The air around them immediately grew thick with tension.

Sexual tension.

“Interesting,” he said softly. He almost reached out to touch her beautiful red hair.

“If you will not tell me your proper title, then I shall stick with Mr. Windsor. I may be new here, but I understand class when I see it. Now then, the wound is a bit redder that I would like. I’ll grab a cloth, and we’ll give it a good wash. How does it feel?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” Stuart said wryly. “Tell me, my Lady. Is there a Mr. Baker that I should be concerned about?”

“I’ve no right to be called a lady, and you know that perfectly well. There was a Mr. Baker, but he is no longer with us.”

“You have just as much right to be called a lady as any member of the noble family. My deepest condolences for your loss.”

Jackie raised her eyes to meet his. “You may keep your condolences. My husband was a mean drunk, and I am far better without him. Thanks to the kindness of his children and my talents as a seamstress, I no longer require a man to be successful in this life. Mr. Baker did me a favor by dying.”

As she dabbed at his wound with hot water, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Jacqueline Baker, you are quite an interesting woman!”

“You may keep your interests to yourself, Mr. Windsor. I don’t need a reputation to destroy all of my hard work. And I fear that Mrs. Windsor may not approve.”

“Like you, there was a Mrs. Windsor, but I lost her to illness several years ago. I am, at the moment, unmarried,” he said honestly. In three months time, that would all change, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Did you love her?”

Stuart frowned at her question. “I don’t know that I’ve loved anyone. We had a certain agreement, and our marriage was without issues. She died childless, but I’m not certain I’d make a very good father. My own father didn’t do well, and I’ve heard that the apple does not fall far from the tree.”

The fiery redhead finished redressing his wound and straightened. “Only the weak believe they cannot overcome the faults of their parents, Mr. Windsor. If anything, your relationship with your father would make a handy list of things not to do with your own child.”

Stuart narrowed his eyes. “You speak out of turn,” he said heatedly.

“You are half-naked in my bed, Mr. Windsor, and you refuse to tell me your title. How do you propose I speak?” she said nonplussed. He had no response for her. “Now then, my landlord has delivered me some fresh eggs this morning, and we will enjoy them for breakfast.”

“Your landlord has been here?” he said in a panic. If rumors started that he was in her bed, the consequences could be disastrous.

“Do not worry about your reputation,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “You needn’t worry about being seen with a commoner. I met him downstairs in his store. He has no idea that you’re here.”

It wasn’t his reputation that he was worried about, but he didn’t say anything to her. He wasn’t quite ready to be done with her yet, and if he admitted the truth, she would no doubt kick him. For some reason, he felt compelled to explore this longing he had for her. It was new, and it had been a long time since he’d felt anything new in his life.

“I’m not familiar with the doctor in town, but I suggest you stop and see him on your way out. He may recommend a good leaching to purge yourself of any infections, although I hardly believe more blood loss is what you need,” she said as she cracked the eggs over the stove.

“Are you kicking me out?” he said in an amused voice. “I’m injured and was near death last night.”

She paused for a moment and stared at him. “I shan’t kick you out if you feel that you’re still in pain, but I do need to work today. I didn’t think you’d want to stay here alone.”

Grinning with achievement, he propped himself up on the pillows and cocked his head. “I’m in so much pain. Perhaps another night here will do me some good. Feel free to go about your duties. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Mr. Windsor, you would not mistake my good wishes as weakness, now would you?”

“My lady, I do not doubt that there isn’t a single weak bone in your body. But I would most like your company while you recuperate. If you’d bring me a pen and paper, I’ll write a letter to your employer. Not only will they send you home for the day, but they’ll probably give you a raise.”

“And why would they do that?”

“Because I am going to place an order that will have them set for a month.” Gleefully anticipating his day with the beautiful women, he set about his letter ordering a wedding dress for his lovely bride. Lady Westin, no doubt, already had a wedding dress, but he could always toss it when he was done. It wasn’t like he was hurting for money.

After sealing the letter, he winked at her. “No peeking.”

He wouldn’t want her finding out the truth before his day with her was over.

***

Madam Costella’s eyes widened in shock as she looked over the letter. Jackie wanted to ask what the man had written, but she kept quiet and waited. Finally, the shop owner nodded in agreement. “Excellent. Jackie, you are excused from the shop for the day. Please follow up with this gentleman and get the exact measurements for his needs. You may get started right away.”

Floored, Jackie could only bow her head and move quickly. Safely back home, she found the man fast asleep. Terrified that he had passed out, she quickly put her hand over his forehead to feel for a temperature.

She felt none, and he circled her wrist with his hand and brought it down for a kiss. “Mr. Windsor!” she gasped as she pulled her hand back.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist,” he said as he flashed her a grin that didn’t look like a smile of apology.

“I understand that we are in tight quarters, but you must behave yourself. Now explain what you put in that letter!” she said as she crossed her arms.

Stuart pushed himself up. “Later. First tell me about yourself. I want to know everything about the woman who saved my life.”