As he spun her back in front of him, he grinned. Ada was also a beautiful woman, one who could catch any man’s eye, if she allowed it. So lovely, she could turn his world upside down and have him signing emancipation papers for all the slaves at home, if he didn’t watch it. The prim dress of a Union nurse did not dim her glow, but the wear and tear of the war wore on the edges. If nothing else, he hoped dancing would lighten her mood.
“Stop staring at the floor,” he warned her.
With a shock, she shot him a look. “I wasn’t staring at the floor.”
Still swaying her in time, he gave her a questioning look.
“I was just making sure you were okay,” she argued.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough,” he replied softly.
He couldn’t handle the pitying look she gave him. As if he was an invalid and of no value, which rubbed him wrong, so he spun her to the right and back three steps. The move caught her by surprise and she laughed, her smile catching his attention so strongly that he mentally silenced the throb that blossomed in his foot. He was mesmerized by her enjoyment, warming him deep inside, making part of him sizzle with the mere thought of touching her. He wanted more.
So he raised his right brow, trying to hold the grin at bay, particularly when she tilted her head, wondering what he was thinking. This time, he swung them back to the original spot, careful not to step that hard on his bad foot, and then pulled her closer. Without any warning even to himself, he reached up and traced the contour of her cheek to jawline with a gentle touch. Her skin was soft and heated with the blush that now pinkened her cheeks.
“You are so beautiful when you’re not fighting.”
That made her raise her chin. “Fighting? I believe you are mistaken. You are the soldier.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.” He continued his stroking, his fingers slowly tracing back through the dropped curls that hung so precariously off her hairstyle, to the back of her neck. “The demands of medicine and fighting against the likes of me.”
He saw her swallow, as if trying to find her breath, like he was attempting to do. The heated snake in his groin snapped and he hardened.
“Yes, well, I’m trying to save you.”
He snorted. “From what? Death? The Union Army?” He cocked his head.
“From the war and eternal damnation.”
That statement made him lose his step.
The moment the words came out of her mouth, she nearly kicked him as he came to a sudden, and very close, halt. In that instant, her doctor-self rose through the blushes and social statutes and she stopped, making him stop.
“Are you all right?” She looked down again at his foot and tried to disengage herself from his arms with no luck. Inside, a soft voice scolded her for being too bold, and she agreed, for she had enjoyed his touch but doing this had made it stop.
“It is good.”
She shook her head, still staring down. She shouldn’t be this close to him, should not let him caress her so. She was in love with Richard, not this sinner. He was not worthy of her! Yet how could she stop her heart from racing when she was around him? Now that he was mobile and no longer a bedbound patient, she’d started to notice how debonair he was, even with the stubble on his chin, the fading sunny glow he had from marching through the countryside and the limp that would be with him forever. His dark hair and sapphire eyes, the icing to a man who walked with the gait of the rich, getting everything he desired gentleman, a steady pace with an attitude of authority, Francois Fontaine was as attractive and as dangerous as a chocolate cake with chocolate icing was to her waistline. The whole affair made her growl.
Trying to fortify herself against her body’s longing for his touch, she stiffened when he broke through her defenses, pulled her close and kissed her. The impact of his lips sealing hers caused her to whimper and that surrender gave him access to her mouth. But he didn’t advance boldly. No, this warrior was stealthy, using a very seductive lick into her mouth, his tongue slowly enticing hers to dance. He had the taste of rich wine and bold masculinity. She could feel the advance of his army, as his arms embraced her, his hands moving to caress her up her backside, with one balancing the base of her head in its palm, giving her support as he slightly tipped her back. His seduction of her mouth now twisted slightly as he cocked her head with his hand, allowing him to deepen his kiss.
Her stomach burned and a pool began to form internally, just near the apex of her thighs. It was a desire for more, a longing for something she’d only experienced years ago, when the call to arms tore her love away. But even now, the memories faded under this Southerner’s seduction, though the heat it awakened scared and excited her. She should stop him and, as much as she tried to wrench herself free of his arms, she discovered the only part of her attempting to halt him was a voice
