“What have you done?” She stood in the tub, drenched like a soaked rat.
“I helped you make up your mind.”
She growled.
Maneuvering his foot back up took more guts than he had at the moment. Easing it back up, he sank into the mattress. It was then he was hit by her bodice. The half damp wool garment slammed into the side of his head before it fell to the floor.
He peaked at her. All the splashing he’d heard as he lifted his leg up had been her disrobing. Now, she sat in the tub in her chemise, her head resting on the back rim. The coiled hair, bound so neatly in the knot at the nape of her neck, unraveled, halfway draping over the tub, the other in the water. She looked like a nymph, seductive in her undergarments while in the water and elusive in that she refused to look his way.
Part of him stirred in ways he hoped it wouldn’t. Had he been that long without a woman’s touch? Apparently…
Suddenly, she laughed. It caught him off guard and frowned.
“Now what’s so funny?”
“That you found it a necessity to throw me, your doctor, into the water, probably setting your recovery back further, and just lay there, in pain, eyes shut to keep your promise.” She giggled again. “It all seems rather inappropriate, since you instigated this with Mrs. Turner.”
Now he looked at her. “You’re wrong on one thing. I did look, after you threw your dress at me. Uncalled for, I might add.”
“Uncalled for? You’re the one who made it soaking. It’ll take days to dry.”
He cringed at that. She was right. “That may be, but you need a good soaking. Cleanses the soul.”
The smile that came to her lips radiated heat all over the room. Well, at least on him. Enough, she eased the ache in his heel.
“I have my doubts on that, soldier.” She stretched her arms at the water’s surface, making her chemise billow in the water. “I thought most of you refined Southerners were officers.”
Despite the throb in his ankle, he couldn’t tear his gaze off her neckline and the white in the water. “I joined late, as it were.”
“A poor decision, I’d say.”
“No, it was the right one.” As much as it pained him, he stood, hobbling to one side and grabbed the long linen cloth off the end of the bed. “Thinkin’ it be time for you to get out. That water is chillin’ and I don’t want my physician to come down with consumption or such.”
She shivered almost on command. That unnerved him. So did her acquiescence to his request. She grabbed the edge of the tub and slowly stood. It was like a siren, luring him to his death, for as she stood, the cotton chemise clung to her body, detailing every line, every curve. It plastered to her chest, allowing him to see the tight nipples of her full bosom. She leaned back to squeeze the water out of her hair, the motion thrust those beauties towards him and without a thought, he bent forward and suckled one through the cloth. His teeth skimmed the nub before he pulled it into his mouth. It was heaven!
Ada caught her breath. Her first reaction should be to soundly beat him, but the tingles in her breast screamed please!
She’d never bathed in the presence of a man. So his reaction wasn’t what she was thinking. In her mind, she was covered, she just hadn’t considered the water-soaked material would glue to her form. She had no one to yell at but herself for being so displayed, though she had to admit, his tugging at her nipple set off fires in her belly. A low flame that churned, begging for more.
Then, he pulled back, catching her totally off guard.
“Mon Dieu, I apologize.” He quickly wrapped her in the towel and stepped back, collapsing again on the mattress.
Ada pulled the sheet tighter around her, trying to cope with the excitement that quickly stopped when he let her go. She was cold, now that she was out of the water, but her insides were still inflamed and taking longer to chill. One thing was for certain—her undergarments were too cold and she’d catch a chill shortly. That man was a menace, of that she was sure!
She yanked her gown and wrapper and stepped behind the partition to change. Peering through the gathered cotton that filled the openings of the tri-fold piece, she saw him on the bed, foot again on the pillow and his eyes shut.
And then, he snored.
Chapter 17
“General Grant is not going to retreat. He will move his army to Spotsylvania. I am so sure of his next move that I have already made arrangements…so that we may meet him there.”
—General Robert E Lee to his staff, May 1864
Dr. William Leonard shook his head at the hospital steward, who quickly pulled his box of supplies back. Will reached down and closed the young soldier’s dulled eyes. The boy was too young to fight and it irritated him more and more that the recruiters took whoever came in. The only smart ones he knew of were the substitutes, who took the money for signing up to fight for a richer man and then vanished to start it all over again. Those men avoided the Grim Reaper, at least for a while.
But then there were the young ones, like this poor soul, who signed on for a cause and a chance to make money, to be clothed and fed. According to the record, he was seventeen. And it would be another dismal letter for Will to add to the list to do, so the boy’s parents would know.
“Mail call!”
Will turned and found a former patient, a private, who still served, but now as a courier after losing three fingers on his right hand
