Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) (19 page)

The woman put her hands on my shoulder and hips and pushed. She wasn’t strong enough to roll me, but from her poking and chattering I assumed that’s what she wanted from me, so I turned away from her, onto my right side. She removed the second bandage and examined the incision she’d made just above my back side.

I didn’t like having my back to all of them. It made me distinctly vulnerable, not to mention blind to what they were doing.

The woman and man continued to talk. Even though I didn’t know the words, the tone seemed clear; they were tense about something.

“What are they doing, Lydia?” I asked.

The man and woman stopped talking when they heard my voice, and the woman cuffed me in the back of the head and yelled at me.

“Hey!” I said, looking over my shoulder at her.

Lydia giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle it, but the old woman grinned and winked at her. Oh great, the women were bonding over me.

I glanced at the man. He watched Lydia with a covetous look that I didn’t like one bit.

The old woman waved the man away. He said something to her, then backed toward the door flap. He stood there for a moment, as if reluctant to leave, then finally ducked out.

I heard rustling behind me and tried to see what she was doing, but craning my neck to look stretched my wounds and hurt.

The old woman gave me another shove, and started washing the wound on my back.

“Lydia?”

She rested her hand on my leg, and just that connection helped me relax. “It’s okay. It looks like she’s going to clean up your wounds.”

She washed and bandaged them, this time without any poultice, and by the time she finished, I was irritated by her fussing and wanted her to be done.

Lydia’s eyes sparkled in the firelight, full of worry and strain. I didn’t like to see her distressed, no matter the reason. I wasn’t foolish enough to think her concern had anything to do with me other than without me she had even less protection between her and the Indians. Not that I was much buffer, but at least she wasn’t alone.

I winked and grinned at her, hoping to boost her confidence. She returned it with a tentative smile of her own. It was small and nervous, but she had to be encouraged I was awake and not dead.

The old woman pulled the fur up over me. She said something to me, which I didn’t understand, then scooted to the other side of the lodge, and when she came back she tossed some buckskins into Lydia’s lap, pointed at me, implying she should help me get dressed. Lydia understood that, and opened her mouth to say something, but before she could the old woman left the tent.

Lydia turned back to me, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she said.

“I’m not laughing,” I said.

“You are. I can’t dress you. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I can’t dress myself.” Although not entirely true, I wanted to see what she’d do. It wasn’t fair of me, but the images of her from my dream were still fresh in my mind and I couldn’t help feeling connected to her and just plain happy to be alive. Maybe it made me a bit ornery, too.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to remain naked,” she said, her voice both haughty and breathy.

“Were you really worried about me?”

The change of subject startled her. “I…well, of course I was.” She cleared her throat and fidgeted on her bottom next to me. I wondered what it would be like to have her on top of me, fidgeting. A healthy twitch down below left little doubt. “I didn’t want to be here alone.”

“Is that the only reason?” I tried to catch her gaze with mine. At first she wouldn’t look at me, but when she glanced up and met my eyes, I had her. Her emotions were easy to read—she’d been afraid, certainly, but I saw confusion in her face, too. She wasn’t sure how she felt about me.

She broke eye contact. “If I work your feet into the legs of these trousers and slide them up under the blanket, can you reach down and pull them up?”

“I can try, but I don’t know if I can lean up that far without tearing the stitches.”

Her lifted brow and thinned lips told me she didn’t trust me, but she lifted the bottom of the fur and worked my feet into the pants, anyway. She pushed them up my legs, gathering the fur as she went. Her cool, slender fingers on my skin shot heat straight to my balls. I could imagine those fingers wrapped around my cock, stroking tentatively, her shy uncertainty as much of a turn-on as her touch.

“Can you reach them now?” she asked.

She’d stopped just above my knees. I reached under the blanket, but couldn’t quite touch the pants. If I stretched, I probably could, and it wouldn’t really cause any injury, but my spirits were high, and Lydia was pretty, and her shyness and spunk aroused me, and I just couldn’t help myself.

“No, you’ll have to help me.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, challenging me.

“I’ll show you,” I said, pulling the blanket off and revealing my cockstand.

She gasped and turned away. “Emmett. Cover yourself.”

“I’m just trying to show you I can’t reach the britches. See?” I reached my hands down and they were still inches from the pants. She didn’t look at first. “We’re just going to stay this way until you help me.”

It took her a moment before she moved. When she did, she only peeked at me from the corner of her eyes, not really turning. I waggled my eyebrows at her, and she giggled a little.

“You’re teasing me,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper that made me even harder.

I didn’t know what I expected, but she drove me to a desire I’d never experience before. Certainly I’d had my share of women, but none as sweet, or smart, or complicated as Lydia, and most of them required payment afterwards. Lydia’d never give herself to me here in a tent in an Indian camp, especially when she was so afraid, but I was curious what she would do.

Then it occurred to me, what was I doing? I was giddy to be alive, but that was no excuse to abuse poor Lydia. Did I want to sink myself into her soft, sweet, heat? More than anything, but not like this. Lydia was the kind of woman a man should respect and be grateful to have and to hold.

But she’d never consent to have me. I wasn’t the kind of man a good woman settled for.

I bent to the side, reaching for one side of the pants, but a stab of pain tore a grunt from my lips.

Lydia spun, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Oh, Emmett, I’m sorry. Let me help you.”

“No, you don’t have to. I can get it. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that.”

She kept her eyes on mine, but a red flush crept up her neck. “I’ve never seen a man’s…you know. I didn’t know they stood up like that.”

I almost choked on a groan, and my cock twitched again at her innocent curiosity. She had no idea how much she turned me on.

“They usually don’t; only when a man is aroused. You can turn around, Lydia. I’ll manage.”

I reached for my pants again, but she caught my hand. “Let me.”

She broke eye contact and her gaze slid down my body like a caress. I struggled not to close my eyes and grit my teeth, because I wanted to see her face when she got to my cock.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a surprised little
O,
and I fought the need to come just thinking of her seeing a hard cock for the first time.

“Is it normal for it to tremble like that?”

“Jesus, Lydia, you’re killing me.”

She shot her gaze to my face, alarm in her eyes. “I am?”

I chuckled. “No, not really, but I might wish you would.”

She glanced at it again, then back at me. “Can I touch it?” she whispered.

“Probably not a good idea.” My voice came out more husky than I’d intended, but I was pretty sure if she touched me, I’d come in her hand, and I imagined that might put her off me and my cock for a long while. Besides which, I suspected one touch from Lydia wouldn’t be enough, and I didn’t see much of a future for us, so better not to get a taste of something I’d never get to have again.

“Oh,” she said, sounding both embarrassed and disappointed at the same time.

“Just pull the pants up a little farther so I can reach them, I’ll take it from there.”

She did, then turned her back on me while I finished dressing. Suddenly the euphoria from my dream—the joy of Lydia’s company, her touch, of having her heart, of being alive—evaporated at the reality of our situation. I still had to take her home to her brother, and she’d still never be satisfied with a man like me—a failed physician with a scandalous past and traveling salesman. If that realization wasn’t enough to deflate my desire, I could dig into my memories from the war, and then the drunken blur and malpractice afterward. That would do the job.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was forward of me, and very inappropriate. I don’t know what came over me.”

Her voice sounded strangled with tears.

“No, I’m sorry. My behavior was reprehensible. I’d been dreaming of you, and when I woke, I was so happy to see you, and to be alive, I let that excitement get away from me. Please forgive me.”

She was silent for a minute that stretched into two, and then three, and I thought she’d decided not to speak to me, but then she turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes wide with wonder. “You were dreaming of me?”

A commotion outside broke the mood and diverted our attention. It sounded like several horses rode into camp, and a general clamor spread through the camp as people came out to greet whoever had arrived.

Emmett’s admission that he’d been dreaming about me while unconscious still had me flustered, as did his
member.

It was one thing that he’d been so brazen about it, flinging the blanket off to reveal such a shockingly intimate part of his body to me, but it was another thing entirely how it had made me feel. At first, I’d been appalled, as I should have been. No gentleman would ever do as he had, certainly not in front of a woman he respected. But I couldn’t help being drawn to it on a primal level. It was fascinating and so different from my own anatomy, hard and proud and tall, but it looked velvety to the touch. My body reacted to it, my female parts convulsing as if they sensed it and knew it was a gift meant for them. I swore everything between my legs melted into a pool of hot liquid, throbbing with need. No self-respecting woman would react in such a way, certainly not the good girl I’d been taught all my life to be.

Yet, I wanted to touch it. After I asked, I wished I could take the words back. How humiliated he must have been at my audacity. He must have thought twice then about continuing any association with me. I was horrified. Since I’d met Emmett Wilder, I’d become a confused mess. It would be a relief to get to Randall’s home so I could get my mind and body under my control again.

But then he’d said he dreamed of me. Why would he dream of me? No one had ever been happy to see me. Not ever. To my father and brother, I was a tool to be used for whatever task needed to be done, or to buy and sell in whatever way got them the highest profit. To my mother, I hadn’t really existed beyond her blank, apathetic shell. I supposed at one point maybe Beth had cared about me, but after what I did to Isaac, she’d probably been happy to see me go. Daisy and Nellie had never really liked me much.

Emmett rested his hand on my arm. “Lydia…” he said

At that moment the man who’d brought us to the camp threw open the door. He and the woman who’d been tending Emmett entered, followed by another man and a white woman dressed in Indian clothes.

The second man carried himself with authority. His demeanor implied he was used to being listened to and obeyed. I didn’t need to be introduced to know he was a leader. The white woman wore her blonde hair in Indian braids, and had a calm, confident air about her.

“Welcome to our home,” she said. “My name is Heova’eke—Yellow Hair Woman. This is my husband, Mantotohpa—Four Bears. He is chief of our clan. This woman is Votoneso—Little Feathers. She is our healer, as you know already. And this man is Avonaco—Leaning Bear. He is our most respected warrior.”

“We’re pleased to meet you,” Emmett said. “My name is Emmett Wilder, and this is Lydia Templeton.”

Yellow Hair Woman translated, and Four Bears asked Little Feathers a question. “My husband asks the extent of your injury, and when you’ll be well enough to be up.”