The Vacant Chair (7 page)

What are you
doing
?
her conscience demanded
in outrage. She fumbled with the shaving brush.

“You have done this before, I hope,” he murmured.

She frowned in annoyance. “Yes, of course. Many times.”

“You seem nervous, is all. You won’t cut me, will you? I have enough holes in me at the moment.” 

She shot him a glare, expecting to find a smile on his face, but found only mild concern instead.

“No, Captain, I will not cut you. Not on purpose, anyway,” she added under her breath. She scraped at his whiskers with the razor, wiped it on the towel she kept handy. The intense way he watched her was completely unnerving, and after only a few minutes she dropped her hands to her lap with a sigh. “Will you please close your eyes?”

His raven brows went up. “Why?” At her aggravated expression he obediently shut them. After all, she was holding a very sharp weapon in her hand, wasn’t she? “All right.”

“Thank you,” she bit out. “And stop talking before I nick you.” She was willing to bet her entire wage he knew exactly what he was doing to her and was enjoying every second of it. Awful man.

No sooner had she uttered the words than his eyes popped opened and he stared right at her.  “Does it bother you to have to touch me like this?” He pitched his voice low so the other men wouldn’t overhear him.

Her spine snapped straight, indignation flooding her. “Of course it doesn’t. What a question. How many times have I changed your bandages? I am a widow and a nurse, Captain, not some flighty schoolgirl. Now close your eyes and stop speaking, if you please.”

He studied her for a moment longer before shutting them as she had requested.

Her fingers shook as she raised the razor once more. “Bother me, indeed,” she muttered to herself, fighting scandalous thoughts of his strong hands caressing her naked body, pushing her thighs apart to settle between them and press what was currently hidden beneath the sheet against her aching center.

Think of something else! Anything else.

She began mentally reciting the muscles of the upper limb.

In the tense silence that followed, Brianna kept on with her task, turning his face for a better angle with the blade. He helped her along by tucking his tongue into his cheek so she could shave the hollows, then under his lower lip. He had nice lips, she couldn’t help but notice again, the lower one a little fuller than the upper. He shifted, bringing that knee up higher, and she started thinking about what was under that sheet, the size and shape of it, how it would feel sinking inside her—

Stop it!

Composing herself once more, she focused on the movement of her hand. Then she caught the slight quivering in his cheek. Oh, he found her discomfort amusing, did he? Indignant, she tossed the razor into the basin with a plop, spraying droplets of water across his face and neck. “Captain, I’ll thank you to not make fun of me,” she whispered, her composure slipping into ragged shreds.

Rather than apologize, he reached for her wrist and wound his long fingers around it, caressing it subtly. Her body tightened under a whiplash of pleasure at the care in his touch and the heat in his eyes. “I’m not making fun of you,” he said, “but there’s no reason to be nervous. I won’t bite.” His eyes strayed to her mouth as if he wanted to kiss her.

Her belly flipped. She tugged her wrist away, irritated at her lack of control over her reaction to him. “I already told you, I’m not nervous.” Her face was so hot she feared it might burst into flame. “Please, just be quiet and let me finish.”

His slow smile made her hands tremble even more. “You’re beautiful when you blush.”

She sent an anxious glance about the tent, but to her relief everyone else was either sleeping or oblivious to her plight. She set her jaw. “Be still.” Hesitating for only a heartbeat, she picked up the razor and completed the task with as much efficiency as she could, thankful he kept his eyes closed for the duration.

The end result was worse, somehow. Uncovered by the thick growth of black beard, he was absolutely heart-stopping. How had she ever forgotten that face? The mutual longing between them was so intense that when he opened his eyes and smiled at her, she tore her gaze away and shoved to her feet to pull a breath of air into her lungs. The tent suddenly felt too small for the both of them, and she swore he must have been able to hear the pounding of her heart.

When she spun away, he caught her hand in his. His touch seared her as he tugged her back toward the side of the bed. Her pulse beat frantically in her throat as she resisted.

“Don’t go yet,” he said.

She flashed him a frown. She’d be an idiot to stay. Her feet, however, refused to move.

A slight frown creased his brow. “Why didn’t you tell me before that you were a widow?”

The question surprised her so much that she went still. He was only touching her hand, yet it brought her dormant body to tingling wakefulness no matter how she fought to curb the reaction. She raised her chin. “I didn’t realize it would be of any importance to you.”

“It wasn’t.”

A stab of disappointment dulled her annoyance, confusing and irritating her even more. “Good.” Why wasn’t she yanking her hand away and leaving?

“But it is now,” he added. “You’ve never talked about him.”

This time she tugged at his hand and his grip didn’t lessen. She huffed out a breath. “I don’t make it a habit to talk about my personal life with my patients.”

“I’ve noticed that. But I don’t want to be just another patient to you.”

Unexpected warmth bloomed in her abdomen, spreading up to her breasts and down between her legs. His eyes were so intent on her face, making her believe there was more than simple physical attraction between them and that he really cared about her. Impossible. He’d only been here a week.

“Did he die in the war?”

Her lips thinned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

He threw her off balance again by continuing. “How old were you when you got married?”

The blood rushed to her face as her temper lit. “Old enough,” she blurted at his rudeness. She didn’t want to discuss this.

“Did you love him?”

“I
still
love him,” she corrected. “Very much.” She managed to wrench free of his grasp and bent to scoop up the soiled bedding, her face flaming from a mixture of anger and confusion. “I have to get back to work.” She rose, brushed the front of her skirts, and barely made it a step before he called out.

“Wait—”

“What?” she snapped, casting a hard look at him over her shoulder. Everyone in the tent had heard him. She felt their gazes keenly.

He maintained eye contact and beckoned her closer with one hand, which she refused to do. “Why are you avoiding me?” 

Her hands stiffened around the bedding. How could he know that? She covered the distance between them quickly and lowered her voice so the other men wouldn’t overhear the rest of this wretched conversation. “I’m not
avoiding
you.”

“Yes, you are. Have I done something to offend you?”

Other than just now? “No.”

“Then why are you suddenly so uncomfortable around me?”

You know why.
She would rather suffer torture than admit her attraction to him. “I’m not anything but exasperated at the moment, Captain.”

He kept studying her with that maddeningly knowing expression on his face. “No?”

“No, and I wish you would stop trying to imply otherwise.”

He lowered his voice to a murmur. “Because it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes.” And he damn well knew it.

“Because you feel something more for me than professional interest, and you don’t want to. Right?”

Her mouth fell open, but no sound left her throat. How
dare
he? How dare he speak to her that way? His truthful words cut her, and the hungry, knowing expression in his eyes was too much to bear. As if he had
any
inkling of how she felt, how confusing and unsettling all this was.

In her haste to blast him, she’d dropped the bedding. She had to get out of there. Now. As she stooped to retrieve the sheets, his fingertips grazed her cheek. Brianna froze, something making her look up at him. A sudden, suffocating pressure gripped her chest. His touch was light and, to her shame, it ricocheted throughout her whole body. Her nipples throbbed and a traitorous dampness gathered between her thighs.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered, gaze lingering on her parted lips. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Oh, but she was afraid. Afraid to move, afraid of the strange yearning she felt for him. Brianna jerked her head back and shot to her feet, intent on escaping.

She was almost outside when he called to her, his tone a strange mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You can run away now, but when I’m well enough to get up I intend to finish this conversation.”

Was that so? Eyes blazing, Brianna faced him, her stupid heart tripping at the sight of his handsome face before she steeled herself.
Damn it!
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you think you stand to gain from this, Captain. And as for running, the only place I’ll be going is home to my boardinghouse. I’m almost finished for the day and won’t be back until morning.” She added the last with a good measure of satisfaction, certain it would put him in his place.

To her chagrin, he merely smiled as though she’d just issued a challenge he couldn’t resist. “I suppose I’ll wait here for you then.” He had the unmitigated gall to wink at her.  

In his condition he didn’t have the strength to crawl to the tent flap, and he must have known it. “Good day, Captain. I wish you a recovery of the
utmos
t haste.” With that, she marched out, the weight of his gaze following her into the midday heat. Her angry strides lengthened as she made her way through the rows of tents, her mind churning. Imagine the nerve of the man, implying that she had feelings for him, and right in front of the other patients or anyone else who cared to listen! She was a widow, had loved her husband with her whole heart, and no one had ever dared question her decision not to engage in another romantic relationship—

Brianna drew up short.

No one had ever questioned her decision to remain unattached and uninterested, except Ella-May. Though her friend meant well, she had voiced her opinion several times about Brianna finding a husband since in her opinion Brianna had grieved for Caleb long enough. And it appeared she wasn’t above trying to play matchmaker now that she saw how attracted Brianna was to Captain Thompson.

Brianna clenched her jaw so hard her back teeth ached. If Ella-May knew what was good for her, she would find another hospital to nurse at before their next shift together.

Chapter Seven

Justin was feeling well enough the next afternoon to lift his head a few inches off the pillow when he heard voices outside his tent. He recognized his brother, and there was a woman with him. His heartbeat sped up. Was it Brianna? She had to be back by now. All morning he’d lain staring at the tent ceiling, wanting to kick himself for pushing her so hard yesterday. He’d meant to reassure her that the attraction was mutual, not scare her away or insult her.

Booted feet hit the wooden steps leading into the tent, and then Mitch burst through the flap, wearing an irritated expression. Wincing, Justin pushed up onto one elbow. “What’s the matter?”

“Wait for it.”

He had only a second to wonder at his brother’s annoyed tone before Laurel Stevens appeared in the opening. Justin’s heart sank. The instant she saw him, an elated smile spread across her face and her dark eyes turned liquid with tears.

Stifling a groan, Justin dropped back onto the pillow, the apology he’d prepared for his nurse dying on his tongue. Damn, hadn’t he suffered enough the past week without this?

“Justin.” Laurel pressed a lacy hanky to her nose and sniffed back tears as she moved to his bedside, completely ignoring the way Mitch blocked her path. She plowed right past him like a color bearer intent on leading a regiment in a charge. Her gloved hand came up to cradle his cheek, and the obvious tenderness in her gaze made him want to fling it away. Only there was no escape. “Oh, look at you…” At least she was genuinely distressed to see him like this.

Justin withstood the contact for another moment to be polite then pushed her hand aside. “Laurel, what are you doing here?”

“I was in Washington with Daddy when we got a telegram from your mother,” she answered, fishing in her reticule for a fresh handkerchief. After dabbing away her tears, she sniffed and looked down at him with worried brown eyes. “I was just sick when I heard the news.”

Not as sick as he felt now.

“I insisted that I come see you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” he said, choosing his words with care so he wouldn’t encourage her infatuation with him. “But I’m on the mend.”

“You’re so pale,” she whispered, putting a hand to her mouth.

“Of course he’s pale,” Mitch said in an exasperated tone. “He was shot through the ribs not too long ago.”

Laurel swallowed visibly and sank into the chair beside the bed. Oblivious of the way her presence discomfited him, she reached up to stroke his hair. It took all his self-control not to bat her hand away. He shot a do-something look at his brother.

Mitch cleared his throat. “Laurel, he really should be sleeping. Let’s go.”

She shook her head, dark curls swinging around her face. A beautiful woman, but so damned cloying and annoying that Justin all but broke out in hives after five minutes of her company. “I can’t leave him like this when he needs me.”

“I don’t need—” He clenched his jaw and stopped the “you” just in time. There was no point in telling her again that he had no romantic interest in her. Being brusque never kept her away, and it made him feel bad for hurting her. “Mitch is right, I just need to rest. I’m sorry you came all this way when I’m not up to visiting.” There was only one woman he wanted to see right now, and she’d been conspicuously absent all day. It made him resent not being able to get out of bed and go find her.

Laurel kept stroking his hair, her expression full of the kind of affection he could never give her in return. “That’s all right. Father and I have reserved a room in a nearby hotel for the next week, but we can always stay longer. I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

Oh, God. He wanted to scrub a hand over his face in frustration. “That’s not necessary.” He turned his head to evade her touch, but she merely took his hand instead and stroked her thumb over the back of his knuckles. Fighting the urge to shake it off, he shifted on the bed, and winced as a bolt of pain jolted through his side.

“What’s wrong?” she gasped.

“Nothing,” he said between gritted teeth. If the woman didn’t stop touching him, he’d get out of the damn bed just to escape her and to hell with ripping his stitches open.

Mitch set a hand on her shoulder. “Leave him alone, Laurel. Let’s go.”

She shrugged off his hold. “No.” Before Justin knew what she was doing, she pulled the blanket down to expose his naked chest. Shocked, he grabbed for the blanket before it reached his waist, but her eyes were already riveted to the bandages covering his ribs. Her cool palm covered his left pectoral muscle. She swallowed, a sudden flush tinting her cheeks. “Your skin is hot. Maybe a cool cloth would make you feel better.”

Taken aback by her audacity—not to mention the impropriety of her actions—Justin cast a disbelieving glance at her, then Mitch. His brother’s eyebrows were up near his hairline.

Justin had never realized she could be so bold. If she thought he would let her give him a sponge bath, she was about to be sorely disappointed. “No, thank you.”

Her eyes met his, a hint of censure in her expression. “I’m perfectly capable of nursing you.”

“I don’t—”

“You lie still, and I’ll make you more comfortable,” she insisted, grabbing for his pillow. His head hit the mattress as she fluffed the thing, and Justin grabbed her wrist, holding it in a firm grip until she looked at him.

“This is no place for you,” he said in a low voice.

“You can come over here and make me more comfortable, miss,” a man in the far bed called out.

Laurel’s gaze jerked to the other soldier, her cheeks now bright pink. Then she turned her gaze on Justin as if waiting for him to reprimand the man for speaking to her in such a rude manner. He merely stared back at her, brows lowered.

A muscle in her jaw moved. “I want to help you. I came all this way.”

Justin shook his head. “I appreciate that, but you should go, Laurel.”

“Yes, you should.”

All three of them turned their heads toward the tent flap at the sound of that voice. Justin’s heart kicked hard when he saw Brianna standing there, her gaze locked on Laurel. She walked over with a quick stride that spoke of complete confidence, her arms full of bandages and nursing supplies.

“Who are you?” Laurel asked.

“His nurse,” she answered, nodding at Justin, the flash of irritation in her eyes letting him know she hadn’t yet forgiven him for yesterday. “And you are?”

“Laurel Stevens, a very close family friend. I’m here to help him,” she answered evenly.

Brianna gave her a tight smile. “Pleasure to meet you. And while I’m sure Captain Thompson appreciates your visit, it’s time he got some rest.”

Laurel’s face fell. “I only arrived ten minutes ago.”

Brianna took out her scissors and some bandages. “I’m sorry about that, but I need to change his dressings and check the wounds before he can sleep.”

“I’ll help,” Laurel offered.

Justin watched, fascinated, as his nurse’s eyes frosted. “Thank you, but no.”

Laurel blinked, as though stunned that anyone would refuse her help. “I think Justin would be more comfortable with me tending him than you.”

“I disagree.”

Laurel made a shocked sound and turned to confront her with hands on hips. “I’ve known him since I was a girl.”

Ignoring Laurel’s growing anger, Brianna continued preparing her supplies. “That may be, but you have no nursing experience, and it’s my job to ensure my patients have all they require to recover quickly. In this case, Captain Thompson needs fresh bandages and a lot of sleep. Visiting will have to wait.”

Laurel lifted her chin. “Then I’ll sit with him while he sleeps.”

“No, you won’t.”

Laurel looked nonplussed for a moment before she found her voice again. “You can’t order me to leave—”

 “Laurel, stop,” Justin commanded, annoyed beyond words at her behavior.

Mitch grabbed her by the arm and towed her back from the bed, holding on in case she tried to shake him off.

With a gasp of outrage, Laurel whirled and stared at Justin. But if she was looking for support, she was about to be disappointed yet again.

“I appreciate your concern, Laurel,” he said, struggling to remain tactful, “but I’d prefer it if you and your father went home. You can tell my mother in person that I’m on the mend.”

She swallowed, and for a moment he thought she might cry. Thankfully, she regained her composure, though the hurt lingered in her eyes. “Perhaps you’ll feel better in a few days and I can come back then.”

Before he could answer, Brianna came to his rescue. “Perhaps you’d best honor his wishes and wait to see him when he goes home on furlough.”

At Laurel’s incredulous expression, Justin bit back a grin and prayed she wasn’t about to explode at Brianna.

The younger woman’s eyes flared with anger, and for a moment Brianna wondered if the interloper was going to have a fit. She barely refrained from raising a taunting brow to see what would happen but corralled her annoyance with a firm tug on the reins. Her temper was something she’d struggled with since she was a child. Though she’d learned to control it for the most part, sometimes it was difficult to hem it in. This new development with Miss Stevens was sorely testing her limits.

It was the sight of the other woman reaching for Justin’s bandages that had bothered her, she told herself. Not because Miss Stevens had her hands on his naked chest when Brianna walked into the tent.

One look at his irritated face had convinced her he wanted nothing to do with the woman. Knowing that, Brianna had no qualms about kicking her out.

Miss Stevens sucked in a deep breath, all but quivering with outrage. “You have no right to speak to me like that.”

Brianna held her ground, not the least bit intimidated by the woman’s anger. “I tried being polite, but now you’ve forced me to use less subtle language.”

Mitch made a strangled sound. She glanced up to see him biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes dancing with laughter.

“Laurel,” Justin began, “I’m tired and not up to visiting anyway.”

“Mitch isn’t a visitor?” she demanded.

“He’s family.”

She stared at him, a glimmer of hurt showing through her embarrassment. “I thought I was too.”

“Corporal Thompson,” Brianna interrupted, now feeling sorry for the woman and not wanting any more of a scene, “perhaps you could help Miss Stevens find a wagon to take her back into town.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He ushered the woman away from the bed, and Brianna ignored the look she aimed first at Justin, then at her.

When she was gone, Brianna went back to work. With a fresh bandage and her scissors ready, she stepped to the bedside and began removing the old dressing as the tent flap closed behind them. She exposed the stitches without looking at him. “That’s a very determined suitor you have, Captain.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.” His tone was dry, but weary.

“She came all the way from Michigan to see you?” Much as it annoyed her, she couldn’t deny the twinge of jealousy at the thought of that woman being his sweetheart.

“No, she was in Washington with her father when they heard I’d been wounded. They’ve been friends of my family as long as I can remember.”

Well, evidently the girl didn’t want to be merely his
friend
any longer.

Back in control and in her domain now, Brianna checked the stitches. No bleeding, no foul odor. The bruising was already fading to yellow around the bullet wound. “Starting to feel better?”

“I was.”

She raised a caustic brow. “Really. That one visit from Miss Stevens set your recovery back?”

“Well, that too. But no, I meant because I’ve made you angry with me.”

Though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel his gaze on her face. “I’m not angry with you.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

To placate him, she glanced up into his face for a moment and was hit by the instant bolt of heat that flashed in her lower belly when she met his eyes. “There, I’ve looked at you.” She went back to bandaging his side.

He laid a hand over hers, the warmth and quiet strength in it wreaking havoc on her nervous system. “I’m sorry if I offended you yesterday. That wasn’t my intention.”

Brushing away his hand, she kept at her task. “Apology accepted. Can you turn over a bit?”

He hesitated a moment, but when she didn’t look at him he shifted gingerly onto his uninjured side. He had to be sore, and any movement would still cause him great pain. The bruising had spread right across his ribs to his back.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you,” he said again.

Why wouldn’t he let this go? “I’ve already accepted your apology.”

“But you’re still angry.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it in your hands.”

That made her stop and look up into his face. “What?” Had she hurt him without realizing it?

His deep blue eyes regarded her steadily as he nodded. “You’re not being as gentle as you usually are.”

Instantly contrite, she snatched her hands away from him. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t believe she’d let this situation affect her to the point that she’d inadvertently been rough with him.