Wild legacy (18 page)

"I'll be the judge of that," he replied. He had felt her constant presence when he had been too ill to see clearly, but after taking a bite of beef, he finally noted just how disheveled and fatigued she looked. "Haven't you another gown? It looks as though you've slept in that one."

"What an astute observation." Dominique guided another sliver of beef to his mouth. "You don't look your best, either, Colonel, but because you've been seriously ill, I'm making allowances for you. Because I've not left your bedside, I suggest you do the same for me."

Sean swallowed the stringy morsel and wondered if he would not have enjoyed the porridge more. "Don't push me, Dominique."

"Push you?" she asked. "I've no idea what you mean, Colonel. I've not had the opportunity to congratulate you on your promotion. I'm sure it was well deserved, but frankly, I fully expected a man with your remarkable abilities to have become a general by now."

Stung by her biting wit, Sean swore. "My God. You want me to turn you in, don't you?"

"It couldn't be any worse than waiting on you."

Dominique knew better than to taunt him, but she just couldn't keep still. She slid another piece of beef into his mouth and glanced out the window rather than watch him chew. The barren field did not provide an entertaining view, but it was still better than her surly companion's accusing stare.

"You'll continue to take excellent care of me," Sean whispered, "or I'll have Lieutenant Beck arrest Belle."

Dominique found it difficult to believe she had actually been terrified Falcon might slit this insufferable idiot's throat, when it now struck her as a great pity that he had not. "Belle is no more guilty of a crime than I am. If you betrayed her, would you be able to look yourself in the mirror when you shave?"

Sean swallowed and smiled. "Easily."

Dominique jabbed her fork into the next bite, but as she steered it toward Sean's mouth, he caught her wrist. "Am I going too fast?"

Sean hated being trapped flat on his back, but he was not about to accept Dominique's insolence. "No, on the contrary, you're too slow. Make more effort to please me, Miss Scott, or I'll make you very, very sorry."

"You already have," Dominique assured him. He glared at her, but after a couple more bites, shook his head and closed his eyes. "I ought to change your bandage," she said, although it would be difficult to restrain the impulse to pour salt in his wound.

"Later," Sean mumbled, and worn out by the slight exertion eating required, he drifted off to sleep.

Dominique waited a moment, then realized he wouldn't bother her for another hour or two. Even knowing it was stupid to bait him, she thought it was what he deserved. She did not want to trap Belle with her tongue, however, and prayed for the patience to remain civil.

She heated water and took it to her tent to wash her hair and bathe. The day was already hot, and she wished for

one of the pretty summer gowns she had at home. Her aunt's dress was worn, if not yet threadbare, and she was sick of wearing it. Having no choice, she pulled it on over clean lingerie and stepped outside the tent to dry her hair in the sun. Before long, Sergeant Danby appeared. They had exchanged a wave a time or two in passing, but Dominique had not spoken with the earnest young man since their arrival in Camden.

"We'll be moving out in a day or two," he said, as he walked up to her. "Not that you and your sister will miss us much, but, well, I will miss you."

"Why, Sergeant, what a sweet thing to say. Do you expect another battle soon?" Too late, Dominique realized she ought not to have asked. Lord knew, she and Belle had no way to pass on any vital information that might come their way, but she did not want to be accused of collecting it.

Danby scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. "We're going up the Wateree River to invade North Carolina, but so many men are down with the fever I doubt we'll be ready to fight any time soon."

Dominique felt her heart lurch, for if Cornwallis's troops were victorious in North Carolina, they would surely march right on into Virginia. She shook her head and pretended to have more interest in her damp curls than his announcement. "Both my sister and I have appreciated your kindness, Sergeant. We'll pray for your safety."

Never having dreamed she would include him in her prayers, Thomas Danby's smile spread over his face with the ease of butter on a hot muffin. "Thank you. I sure wouldn't mind getting wounded if I could have you for a nurse."

Dominique startled the young man with a quick kiss on the cheek. "You just concentrate on staying healthy, Sergeant."

Thomas began to shuffle backwards, his whole face lit

with a scarlet blush. "I'll pray for you, too, Miss Scott, and maybe we'll see each other again."

Dominique smiled and waved, then rushed back into her tent. She had not come to Camden to spy. She and Belle had not even wanted to visit the town, let alone care for British wounded there. Falcon wouldn't be back for three days, but when he did arrive, she would insist Belle relay Sergeant Danby's news. The Colonial militia might already have deduced Cornwallis's plans, and it might be too late to warn them if they were unaware of them, but she could not simply pretend she had not heard what she had.

Afraid she had left Sean unattended for too long, she coiled her curls atop her head and covered them with her kerchief. She knotted her apron at her waist, and ready for work, reentered the farmhouse. She did not dare tell Belle what she had learned while anyone else could overhear her reaction, but holding in another secret merely added an additional layer to her terror.

Sean was still asleep, and she sat down to write a letter for one of the young men who had been wounded in the chest. If not showing rapid improvement, he was at least holding his own; she was pleased to be able to help him describe his injuries for his family, but refused to allow him to discount them as minor. He was too weak to argue, but as they discussed how best to reveal the truth, she noticed Sean was awake and watching them. Ignoring his silent summons, she did not rush the dictation but completed it at a leisurely pace, then handed the letter to one of the surgeon's mates to include with those being sent home to England. Only then did she swing by Sean's cot with a cup of willow bark tea.

Shoving her cot aside, she pulled up a chair and continued in the same bold tone as she had used when she'd left him. "You've lost weight, and I'm afraid food is in such short supply here that I won't be able to find you more

beef. There's some bean soup simmering on the stove, though. Do you feel hungry again?"

She kept her attention focused on the cup rather than Sean's face as she gave him the tea, but he wasn't as docile as the other patients. They would swallow whatever she brought them, while he might easily take a perverse delight in spitting everything she served him right back out into her apron. She held her breath until he sipped the drink without protest.

"I want out of here," he murmured.

"Nothing would please me more than to see you leave," Dominique assured him, "but you're far too weak to make any travel plans."

"Yes. I know. That's why you're going to make them for me.

Dominique sat back and gripped the tin cup with both hands. "I'm sure Dr. Perry would be far more helpful in that regard."

Sean tried to flex his left arm and winced when the pain tore all the way to his toes. He needed a long moment to catch his breath. "My arm's useless, and I'm no good to anyone like this."

"You weren't expected to live," Dominique confided softly. "Give your body time to heal. It's much too soon to regard yourself as an invalid. Would you like to send a letter to your family, or perhaps you now have a wife?"

Sean's gaze darkened slightly, but he responded, if reluctantly. "I've no family, nor a wife, but there is a woman I've missed."

Willing to take dictation for an entire novel if it would distract him from issuing vile threats, Dominique excused herself to fetch more paper, pen, and ink. When she returned to her chair at his bedside, she crossed her legs and propped a Bible, the only book handy, on her lap. It made a convenient, if unconventional, desk, and she set the small jar of ink on the windowsill.

Even seated right beside the window, she didn't feel a hint of breeze, but it was her companion, not the heat, which was the main source of her discomfort. The sheet covering Sean had slipped nearly to his waist, but she had seen so many bare chests of late, it didn't strike her as immodest. Dark curls spread over his chest and nipples, but narrowed to a thin line as they reached his flat belly. The folds in the wrinkled sheet hid his navel, but she had seen him nude the night he had been brought to the hospital, and several times since. She had not forgotten a single detail of his well-muscled frame, either.

Believing the fact that Sean was such a handsome man had gotten her into her current predicament was enough to still her thoughts before they turned erotic, but when she finally met Sean's gaze, his sly smile made her wonder what he had been thinking. His beard grew low on his cheeks, and she no longer found it unattractive despite his lack of humanity.

"Well, what's her name?" she asked, and dipped her pen into the ink.

"Just begin with, My darling."

Dominique nodded, then paused with her pen in midair. "First, I need to say you're dictating the letter as I'm assuming she'll immediately know the handwriting isn't yours."

Sean frowned slightly. "No. I'm afraid I've been rather lax in my correspondence, and I've never written to her." When Dominique shot him a disapproving glance, he turned surly. "I've been occupied with fighting a war. Not that I need to excuse my behavior to you. Now just write and don't criticize a single word."

Dominique raised her brows. "I haven't said a thing."

"Well, don't give me that look again. I feel guilty enough without your adding to it."

"That's difficult to imagine." Still believing an explanation was necessary, Dominique began by identifying herself

as a field hospital volunteer, and then on the next line, wrote his salutation. "Then what?"

"Will she believe me if I say I've been thinking of her, even if I haven't written?"

While Dominique had offered to transcribe his letter, she had not expected to have to help him compose it and the hint of doubt in his voice prompted a shrug. "Probably. If she loves you, she'll be inclined to believe anything you say."

"How can you be so certain?"

Dominique knew he was far too clever a man to ask such a foolish question, but gave him an answer anyway. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but I'm also a woman, and I know just how easily we can be misled." She smiled knowingly and hoped he would take her remark as a not-at-all-subtle reminder of just how blatantly he had lied to her. "I'd suggest that you speak from the heart, but I doubt that you have one."

Sean reached over and laid his hand on her knee.

Dominique pushed it away, but he put it right back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Whatever I please," he cautioned. "Should I call Lieutenant Beck to help me?"

Sean was much too weak to demand more than a feeble grasp of her thigh, but Dominique could very easily imagine him sending that same wandering hand up under her skirt, or down her bodice. Worse yet, he might insist she perform intimate favors for him. Sickened, she had difficulty catching her breath, but her choices were clear. She could either stop him now and accept the consequences, or give in inch by inch until there was nothing left of her soul.

"Take your hand off me," she ordered so softly only Sean could hear.

Defying her, Sean dug his fingers into her thigh, but then just as quickly he released her and laid his hand on his chest. He stared up at her, his glance hard and the curve

of his well-shaped lips turning cruel. "Tonight," he promised, "and don't try and give me laudanum to make me forget."

Dominique decided right then that no matter how adoring he made his letter sound, she would add a footnote to alert the poor object of his fickle affections to the fact that he was a thoroughly unprincipled rogue. "I can scarcely wait," she replied, clearly unenthused. "Now let's finish this up. Your bandage needs to be changed."

"Do you provide all the men with such affectionate care?"

"Every last one. Now what is it you want to say?"

"Hmm. It's difficult to think about her when your beauty is so distracting."

Dominique knew she was too thin, and her once-beautiful complexion was splashed with freckles. Beauty, indeed! She sat back in her chair. "I had this absurd notion that you would have changed—for the better, of course. If this unfortunate woman knows you're a rake, then say anything to fill the page. If, by some remarkable happenstance, she believes you to be an honorable man, then you would do her a great service by not writing to her at all."

Sean slid his hand down under his sheet. "She knows me exceedingly well."

"Ah, she's your mistress. Why didn't you say so?"

"Would it matter?"

"Of course. You should be completely honest with her."

Sean almost laughed, but caught himself before he took too deep a breath and caused himself more pain. "It would be a novel approach. She should enjoy that for a change. All right. Let's say that I've been shot, and may become a hopeless cripple."

Exasperated with him, Dominique sighed deeply. "Can't you even approach the truth at a closer range?"

"Can't you?" Sean challenged. "Look at me! I'm too weak to leave this cot. There's not much I can do, except—"

He closed his eyes and left the sentence hanging. It took a moment, but Dominique finally noticed he was moving his hand beneath the sheet. "What is it you're doing?" she hissed.

Sean's expression had turned dreamy as he looked up. "I want to be certain I can still please her."

"This is no time for such an experiment!" Dominique was smart enough not to slide her hand down his arm to his hand where he would undoubtedly catch hold of her fingers and make her finish the job. Instead she grabbed his elbow to bring his hand back to her thigh. "There. Hold onto me if you must grab something. Now we've got to have more than, 'My darling'."