“Apologies accepted. You made it down here with ease, it appears. How do you feel?”
He snorted as he ambled to the table. “Outside of exhausted, my hunger drove me. As to the appendage.” He collapsed in the chair. “It is a touch sore, but better than I expected, though the snail-pace I keep is rather discouraging.”
She laughed. “The fact that you make it at all at this point is amazing.”
A servant appeared, pouring Francois some wine and then setting their plates down. The silence between them during this drove her a bit mad, but there seemed no point in alerting the staff any more than necessary that one of their guests was a Southerner.
When the servant left, Ada leaned forward and whispered, “I appreciate you holding your accent, considering.”
He frowned. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so, though my ability to not be confined will probably help me keep it at bay as much as I can.”
The southern drawl was light but the roll of his r’s, like the French, did catch her attention.
“Well,” she started, her voice back to her normal level. “We are guests here, so please act accordingly.”
He chewed on a bite, gazing at the walls, before he asked, “I assume you and the residents here are good friends? Or are you, by chance, engaged to this ‘Master’ Leonard?”
She nearly choked. “Engaged? Heavens no. I’ve known Will all his life, or a very long time. We went to medical school together.”
“Ah, the doctor in the field. I saw you two cavorting.” He sipped the wine. “That man is quite smitten with you.”
“Smitten? No. We are just good friends. Now, he may favor me, as I did help him through school. Some of the subjects were a bit dense in the text and such.”
“Hmmmm.”
“You should be pleased I know him. He argued for my skills to help you and your comrades, as Dr. Waxler holds little value of the captured men. Will convinced him to let me tend to you.”
“I shall make it part of my agenda to thank him.”
“No! I mean,” she squirmed. She’d said too much. Searching to veer him off the topic, she did her best to switch topics. “As we are here and I have no other duties, we shall commence with a plan to get you more mobile.”
He stared at her. “Exactly what I’d hoped for.”
She grinned. Thrilled to get him off Will, Ada continued dinner, formulating in her mind their time at Sweet Briar. They had so little time, and Will had promised to find a solution to this man’s future, she felt the least she could do was to make it so he could stand at his execution for being a secesh and owning slaves…
The rest of dinner ran smoothly, Francois decided. He’d gotten her to smile, which was a big accomplishment. The woman spent most of her time buried in patients, including him, and the concentration mixed with frustration made her so severe, he feared she’d develop wrinkles before she turned gray. Not that he knew her age, but he’d guess in her early twenties. So once the conversation switched from that other doctor, one she seemed most determined to protect, which escaped him, he made the subjects a little more light hearted, like where she was from. When she answered Pennsylvania, he was lost. When he came north, it was New York. Rest of the North was uninteresting to him.
As they slowly ambled back to the stairs after dinner, he hated to admit it even to himself, but his damn foot hurt. It was an inner vice that tightened every time he tried to put his heel down. At this rate, he’d never walk the same again.
“Your ankle hurts?”
He stopped and gave her a look. “Yes, I believe I’ve pushed it too hard today.”
Her lips tightened as she tapped her chin with a finger, deep in thought.
“We shall wrap it for sleep and tomorrow, try to find easier exercise for it. If you want to walk, again, that is.”
He snorted. “Yes ma’am, I sure enough do.”
She let out a disgusted sigh and that irked him, for anytime he talked and his southern accent drawled significantly, she tightened up. And that irritated him, for he knew she was dwelling on his status of being a Southern slave-owner. If there was one thing that he’d break her from it would be condemning him for his way of life.
“Well, come along.” She started again and headed right for his room.
That, plus the sway of her hips, got his mind off the pain. One thing he did know was he didn’t need a working ankle to make love…
She opened the door and went right to the washstand. She propped the window up, wedging a book to keep it open, making him cringe. He hated the cold wraps, despite they worked well on swelling.
“Sit here, please,” she patted the mattress.
Every nerve inside him came alive. Fire ignited in his lower stomach, making his member twitch. It took every ounce of energy he had to refocus. It was quite clear she was in her medical persona and any hope of a good toss was not on her agenda. Putting the cane aside, he sat.
She frowned. “Really, Private, let’s get those fancy clothes off you before you wrinkle them beyond repair.”
“It’s Corporal,” he corrected. “And I like your bold tongue.”
Her chin snapped back. “I beg your pardon?”
He sighed with a tone of disgust. “Never mind.” He began to unbutton the trousers, but the mere suggestion had made him slightly hard. It wasn’t easy getting out of them, unable to stand on one foot steady, and it grew more cumbersome since every moment his manhood begged to be at attention. The worst part was when she went to help, taking off his
