“Sergeant Brady, ’tis good to see you.”
The sergeant hobbled around to face him, eyes going wide when they set upon him. “Corporal MacBranain! Ha!”
The man grasped his hand and pumped it with vigor. “’Tis good to see you too, man! We thought you were dead for sure.”
“I would have been were it not for Miss O’Brian here. She found me in the field, stitched me up, and helped me get back here.”
Eyes filling with wonder, Brady nodded to Ashlinn. “Then we owe you a great debt, Miss O’Brian. Sean here is an exceptional soldier.”
Removing her arm from Sean’s for a moment, Ashlinn curtsied to the man. “I could not agree more, Sergeant. ’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
After exchanging pleasantries and introductions, they chatted about the weather, the wildlife, the president, anything but the war. The last one was sticky, considering the reason for his visit. It became much like fishing in a lake full of alligators and trying to pretend they weren’t there. Thankfully, the band setting up in a nearby gazebo finally began to play a tune and those gathered started breaking up into dancing pairs. There weren’t nearly enough women by half, which left a lot of men standing in the garden waiting. Sean felt a bit guilty for being one of the lucky few to have a lovely lady on his arm, but only a bit. The lively sound of a violin made his fingers ache and his feet long to move.
Between the manor house and the band’s gazebo lay a cobbled area beneath an awning where the officers sat with the president. Sean could barely see the esteemed man, he was so well protected by the bodies of others standing around. Being only a corporal, he knew this glimpse of the beard and top hat were all he would get, but he was fine with that. The person he truly wanted to see hung on his arm. When Brady paired off with the woman in yellow, Sean turned to Ashlinn.
“Would you care to dance?”
She raised an eyebrow at him, a gesture that made his blood start to pump to areas most ungentlemanly. “Are you sure you are up to it?”
He was up to it and so much more, but he wasn’t about to voice that. Instead, he smiled and inclined his head. “No worries, I am in the hands of a fine physician who will no doubt detect when I am in need of rest.”
“In that case, I would love to dance, Mr. MacBranain.”
He took her left hand in his and placed his right lightly upon her hip. They waltzed out across the green grass as if it were a smooth ballroom floor. She was pliant and responsive in his hands, almost as if she read his intentions before he knew them and responded accordingly. Warmth flowed from her into him despite the bits of satin and lace between them, not the suffocating warmth of a humid summer day, but the simmering of something far more promising. She floated on her feet, moving into each step with the lightest of touches.
The music poured into him, singing through Sean’s blood, pulling his body along to the rhythm. A joy he hadn’t felt in over two years began to steal over him like mist on an Irish morning. That wasn’t quite right, though. This joy was beyond anything he had felt dancing at the society balls back in Ireland and New York. The beautiful golden-haired woman in his arms had much to do with that. Each bell-like laugh and full smile she gave him made his heart swell until he feared his ribs could not contain it. With her bold manners and open practice of medicine, she was unlike any woman he had ever met.
In between dances they visited the table filled with food the likes of which Sean hadn’t seen in two years. At the edge of the table, Cliste sat looking ever so patient. Though her head easily reached above the table even while she sat, she didn’t reach over to it.
“Such a clever one, you are. How many of these officers have you enticed into givin’ you a treat?” Sean asked her.
Her tail thumped against the grass, and if he didn’t know better, he would swear she smiled. Ashlinn laughed and scratched the hound’s head. “Many of them, I am certain.”
Sean scanned the table. “What’s her favorite treat?”
Her tail thumped harder as if she understood his words. Ashlinn pointed to a cracker that didn’t look much different from hard tack. Sean raised an eyebrow at her, making her laugh again. Oh, how he loved that sound.
“There is no accounting for the taste of a hound. But, ’tisn’t as bad as it looks. ’Tis a sweet cracker,” she said.
Shrugging, Sean picked up one for himself and a second that he held out to Cliste. Gentle as a babe, she picked the treat from his hand and crunched away at it. He tested a corner of the one he had taken for himself and found it quite tasty. Once Ashlinn finished her punch, he offered her his hand with a slight bow.
“Shall we return to the dance floor, my lady?”
Giggling, she allowed him to sweep her back out onto the open area of grass where the dancers were engaged in a lively waltz. Not wanting any of the men to feel left out, he stepped aside now and again so others could dance with her. She chatted each of them up, often leaving them looking a bit disappointed. Intrigued by her behavior, he listened in as a lieutenant swept her past him in a waltz. They conversed about the impossibilities of sending out a search party for lost soldiers. He spoke to her of how many had likely deserted, and she looked as though she may slap him. That one Sean quickly stepped in on and took over the dance.
Tears glistening in her eyes, she only sniffled and looked away as he took he swept her around the garden to the tune of the music.
“I’m sorry, he didn’t need to be so blunt about that,” he whispered.
Blinking rapidly and straightening her back against his hand, she met his gaze. “No, I am sorry for ruining our evening with a doomed plot to find my brother.”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his fingers, taking great pleasure in how the touch drained some of the pain from her eyes. “Nonsense. You had to try. There is no harm in that.”
By the end of the dance he had her smiling again. Night soon fell, but the blanket of stars above and the swollen half-moon gave more than adequate light to continue the festivities. The general, president, and both their entourages retreated inside the house, but the festivities continued uninterrupted. Sean began to realize that this night was as much for the leaders of the army as it was for the entertainment of the president. Men with renewed spirits could renew the spirits of those they led. Looking around the garden at the corporals, sergeants, and lieutenants dancing with the smiling ladies, he realized it was a brilliant plan. Even Sergeant Brady was managing a few steps with the lady in yellow.
After a few polkas and another slow waltz, his breathing became hitched enough that she noticed. Both the stitches in his arm and side pinched as if driving tiny thorns deep into his skin and muscle. Regardless, he didn’t want to stop. Ashlinn’s bosom heaved, the hint of her delicious cleavage peeking out from the emerald-green satin threatening to draw his eyes. He resisted, forcing his gaze up across her delicate collarbones that gleamed ever so slightly, not with perspiration, but as if the moonlight pooled there. The ridiculous urge to lap up the moonlight as if it were water, made him drag his gaze up to her face. Pink flushed just beneath her high cheekbones and her mouth was slightly agape as she drew in deep breaths.
The sudden tightening of his breeches forced him to look quickly away.
“I fear I must rest a moment. Would you mind escorting me to that bench over there?” she asked.
The breathy sound of her voice did all kinds of wonderful things to him that made him long for shadows that would hide his condition. Thankfully, the bench she motioned toward was deep within the shadow of a willow tree, so deep in fact that it took him a moment of searching to find where she pointed. It was a bit far from the festivities, barely within sight of them really. To take her there wouldn’t exactly be proper, but since she was the one asking…
“I would not mind at all.”
Sean looked around for an unoccupied soldier who might be willing to chaperone them, but they all seemed to be having such a grand time that he didn�
��t want to pull them away.
Ashlinn laughed, looped her arm through his, and began to lead him toward the distant bench. “Come, my unfailing gentleman. I promise not to scandalize you, much,” she said, whispering the last word. It branded him like an iron straight from a blacksmith’s forge.
So caught up were they in their own revelry that no one seemed to notice them leave the festivities. Soon Sean could hear the thundering of his own heart over the music in the distance. He struggled to keep his wits and manners about him as his blood all pumped to one place, making him light-headed in the most delicious way. They passed beneath the drooping moss that hung from the willow. To his surprise, Ashlinn pulled him not to the bench, but around behind the huge tree trunk. Holding tight to his hand, she sighed as she leaned back against the tree, her eyes cast out over the river.
“It is beautiful here,” she said.
It took a monumental effort to peel his eyes from her and look out at the tree-lined river only a few yards away. With a star-filled sky hanging above it and fireflies dancing above the grass between them and it, the scene was pristine for sure. As his gaze returned to Ashlinn he couldn’t help but think all the splendor in nature didn’t even compare. Light from the half-moon played along the blond tresses that had escaped her bun, framing her face with an almost ethereal glow. Something he hadn’t seen in her eyes before swam in their blue depths now: happiness. Her gaze shifted from the river to him and filled with something else entirely.
White teeth flashed as she pulled her bottom lip between them, worrying at one side of it like she was trying to hold back words. The sight put him at a loss of words, instead making his body long for action. Compelled by the power of desire in her eyes, he put a hand on the tree to each side of her head and leaned close. Their bodies didn’t touch, he wouldn’t go that far, but at only inches away, he could feel the heat radiating off her. More than anything he wanted to press into that heat, allow it to consume him, but he didn’t dare.
“I will not dishonor you,” he whispered in a ragged voice that laid his desires bare.
One of her hands snaked up behind his head, cupping the back of it. “Then allow me.”
She pulled him down to her, and despite all his manners and respect for societal boundaries, he was powerless to resist. Their lips touched and the last of his reservations exploded as surely as if they had been hit by cannon fire. His body melted against her soft curves, igniting him from head to toe with a fire that spread from his groin out. As his erection grew, he pulled his hips away from her in a last effort to be at least somewhat gentlemanly. A strangled moan slid from his lips as she raised her hips to press against him.
The moment his lips parted, her tongue slid into his mouth. Reason deserted him. His hands moved over her, one behind her neck, the other around her waist, pressing her tighter to him. When her tongue retreated, his followed. The warm, wet sensation of her mouth made him groan with need. Their tongues danced together, far more intimate partners than they themselves had been not less than an hour ago. Breathless and fighting to keep his hands from wandering to places even less appropriate, he drew back.
“It seems my angel has a bit of devil in her,” he gasped.
The laugh that escaped her was deep with desire, the type of sound meant to be heard in only a bedroom, and he loved it. “Does that bother you?” she asked.
He shook his head slowly. “Not in the slightest.”
Smart, daring, she was everything he never knew he wanted. If they were back in New York, he’d be asking her father for his permission to court her and calling on her whenever she’d see him. However, her father was dead, and New York felt a world away.
“Then why do you look sad?” she asked.
He allowed a very sated smile to spread across his lips. “Only because I wish I could court you properly. You deserve that.”
Fear showed in her widening eyes a moment before desire drowned it. She grasped her hands together behind his neck and looked him straight in the eye. “I have spent much of my life either with my head in a book or covered in blood with sutures or a scalpel in my hand. A proper lady I most certainly am not.”
His head cocked to the side. “You have a point there, and I must admit, that’s part of what I enjoy most about you.”
Her mouth gaped. “Truly?”
Hand splaying out wide across her back to touch as much of her as possible, he drew her back to him. “Aye, truly.”
Rising up onto her toes, she pressed her lips to his again. This time they were hard, eager as they forced his lips open, giving her tongue access to dive into his mouth. The moan that slid from her flowed into him like the sweetest, most potent whiskey, burning all the way to his soul.
“Unhand her this instant, you filthy mick!” A harsh, male voice shattered the perfect moment into a million pieces.
Head turning toward that voice, Sean shot away from Ashlinn as if she were on fire. A man of slightly shorter and considerably softer stature than himself stomped toward Sean. He crossed between shadows cast by the tree branches overhead, and Sean caught a glimpse of his face. Square jaw clenched so tight his jowls shook beneath his sideburns; the doctor was the very image of spitting mad. His fist rose and Sean braced himself. Every instinct in him screamed at him to move, but he didn’t. He deserved this. The impact stung and turned his head, but that was it. He hit like the Englishman he was.
A blur of green satin and blond hair shot before him. Shoving the doctor back with both hands, Ashlinn moved between them. “Doctor Taylor, how dare you strike a soldier!”
Eyes going wide, the doctor stammered, words catching in his throat. Two deep barks broke the night, followed by the kind of growl that set a man’s hair on edge. Hackles raised and teeth bared, Cliste stalked up beside Sean, her gaze fixed upon Taylor.
One dainty hand went to Ashlinn’s hip. “And you would do well to watch your tongue. I am Irish as well and do not take kindly to you using such nasty slurs against not only a fine man, but my kind.”
Taylor took a step to his left, putting Ashlinn between him and Cliste. Baring his teeth like an animal, he pointed a shaking finger at Sean. “That man is not your kind. He seeks to dishonor you, and I have come to see that he does not, at least not any more than he already has.” His eyes narrowed at the last part.
Anger under tight control, Sean stepped out from behind Ashlinn. “My intent is not to dishonor the lady.”
Taylor’s finger shook at him again. “Oh, but you already have. Or have you forgotten that in society a man only kisses a woman who is engaged to be betrothed to him, or who is a whore.”
Right hand curling into a fist, Sean took a step forward. “Watch your tongue, man, or so help me, I will defend her honor, even if you are a doctor.”
“Puff up all you want, mick, but you cannot deny that what I say is true. You cannot honestly tell me that your intentions for this woman are honorable, not in a time of war.” The words stung far worse than the punch had, their truth cutting deep as a knife.
Ashlinn moved back between them, her head thrust high and her teeth bared. “His intentions, and mine, are not your business, Taylor.” She reached back, looped her arm around Sean’s and gave him a tight smile. “I am feeling rather tired. Would you please escort me safely back to my tent, Mr. MacBranain?”
Nodding his head deep in a show of respect to her, Sean began walking. “O’ course, Miss O’Brian.”
On the way past Taylor, he allowed his shoulder to collide with the man, shoving him back a step. Pain lanced through his arm at the impact, but the seething look on the doctor’s face was worth it. Snarling and teeth gnashing sounded behind them but Sean didn’t turn to look. If Cliste wished to bite the man, he wasn’t going to stop her. A quiet, high-pitched whimper sounded from the doctor. He pleaded with the hound in a soft voice that slowly drew away.
Not wanting to be seen by the others, Sean skirted around the edge of the garden where they were quic
kly hidden from the revelers by a row of tall, flowering bushes. Feet stomping into the grass as if it had affronted her, Ashlinn muttered to herself. For a woman not born in Ireland, she had a firm grasp on the curse words of the language and used them with great abandon. It was almost enough to make him smile.
Not even the lovely way anger flushed her cheeks red could bring a smile to him, though. As much as he loathed the doctor right now, he had to admit—at least to himself—that the man was right. Nothing good could come from the two of them getting involved right now. It was anything but honorable. If tonight were any indication, she would very likely let him spoil her. Wonderful though it would be, no matter how good his intentions were of making an honest women out of her once the war was over, he knew the chances of him seeing the end of the war were slim at best. The 69th infantry was the first to the fore and it showed in their constantly depleting numbers. It was becoming the norm for scores of them to die in each battle. He had already cheated death once; it wasn’t likely that it would happen again. He couldn’t put her honor at risk.
At Ashlinn’s hurried pace they left the grounds of the manor in no time at all. The music faded until it was nothing but a memory, one that saddened him beyond words to leave behind. His fingers ached to hold his violin, his arms ached to hold Ashlinn, and his wounds simply ached. The night couldn’t have gone more wrong. Neither of them spoke until they reached their tents, then both started at once.
“Go ahead,” Sean said.
“No, you.”
Steeling himself for words he did not want to say, Sean straightened. “I must apologize for my behavior tonight, ’twas anthin’ but gentlemanly.”
Concern wilted the edges of Ashlinn’s smile. “We agreed being gentlemanly all the time is overrated.”
Honor Before Heart Page 8
