The Officer and the Bostoner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 1) (13 page)

~Chapter Fifteen~

Had she really just said that
and
kissed him? His wide blue eyes and slightly slack jaw told her that she had indeed. Trying not to appear too impatient nor wanting to allow him an opportunity to ask her to explain herself, she pushed to her feet and smoothed her chemise.

“
Thank you for brushing my hair. I think I’ll go to bed tonight without braiding it, so it can continue to dry.” Then, without another word, she climbed up into their bed and waited beneath the covers for him to snuff the candles and join her.

It was only a matter of minutes before his warm body came to rest beside hers.

She loved how warm he was and how safe she felt lying next to him.

Earlier, when he’d said those scandalous remarks about wanting to claim her innocence and having her stay with him, she’d dismissed them as just that: scandalous remarks. He couldn’t possibly care that much for her—he hardly ever saw her. Not that it mattered. She was engaged to Nicholas and he’d come for her soon enough.

But just for now, while darkness engulfed them and the heat of his broad, powerful body kept her warmer than a blanket ever could, she could close her eyes and allow herself to dream that he was the one she’d marry. That his earlier remarks had been true. That he could one day love her. That he’d always be there to help her wash and brush her hair until they were both too old to move.

She squeezed her eyes tighter. She was promised to Nicholas and that wasn’t a promise easily broken. There was too much involved in her promise... Besides, they suited just fine. Wes would one day find a bride that suited him better than she ever could. It was better this way. It had to be.

***

“
Wes?”

Wes froze. “Yes?”

Allison sat up in their bed and lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the bright ray of sunlight that was streaming into the room from the break in the curtains. “Where did you go?”

“
I went out to ride Midnight.” Wes walked over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you ready to get dressed for the day?” A grin split his face. “You’ll get to wear something new.”

She returned his grin, but probably not for the same reason. While she loved the idea of wearing something new, she loved even more the fact that what she was putting on was a gift—of sorts—from Wes. “I don’t think I’ll even need help.”

Was it just her or did he look a bit disappointed about that?

Nonsense. She was imagining things.

Allison got out of bed and slipped into the shirt Wes had bought her. After she buttoned it, she stepped into the skirt. “Actually, I might need some help after all.”

Wes was over to her side in an instant.

“Mrs. Lewis put some sort of latch back there, but I don’t know how to fasten it if I can’t see it.”

Wes shooed her hands away from where she’d been holding the two parts of the fastening and quickly secured her skirt. “It looks very...er...stylish,” he said, his hands still on her waist.

“Are you referring to the cut?”

“
Yes. It’s very interesting.”

She nearly snorted. Interesting was one way to put it; an awful reminder of her terrible sewing skills was another. “Yes, well, it’s how the ladies in Boston like to wear their skirts—”

“Ah, so you’re still a Bostoner, are you?”

She shook her head at his teasing tone. “Yes, I’m still a Bostonian.”

Wes gave the worst exaggerated sigh she’d ever witnessed. “Still so proper. I was hoping a few days out here in the wilds might have changed that. I guess not. Perhaps you need more time.”

A shiver skated up her spine and she forced herself to turn around.
This
was the problem with Wes. He oozed charm and said all the right things—sadly, only a fraction (if that) of them could possibly mean what she wanted them to mean. “Have no fear, Cap’n Tucker, I imagine by the time I get ready to leave here, I’ll be speaking like the rest of you.”

“
Good, it’ll be an excellent way for you to remember us by.”

And that confirmed it. Anything that might be taken as a genuine compliment or an indication that he’d like her to stay was always countered with a statement such as that. And blessedly so. It wouldn’t do any good to return to Nicholas still in love with Wes. She nearly snorted again. It was already too late for that. She was helplessly in love with him, but it would make it much easier to go when the time came, knowing that he didn’t return the feeling.

Swallowing, she shoved her feet into her shoes. “I suppose we’d better go eat so I can get to Mrs. Lewis’. I need to ask her to help me learn to cook a thing or two, so I’m not a bag of bones, or worse, food for the crows, by the time Nicholas gets here.”

He gave his head a slight nod. “Right. Well, do you think you might perish if you have to go one more day picking at cold beans and eating jerky? I promise to buy you more this afternoon.”

“No,” she said slowly. “I guess not. Why?”

“
Today I don’t have to work, so I thought you might like to spend some time outside of Mrs. Lewis’ parlor. But if you’d rather sew and cook—” he gave a half shrug— “I certainly understand.”

“
Hmm.” She tapped her index finger against her cheek. “That’s a hard decision. On one hand I could spend the day wishing I was somewhere—anywhere—else, or I could—”

“
Well, if you’re going to spend the day with me wishing you were somewhere else, then you’d best just go to Mrs. Lewis’ right now,” Wes teased with an overdone frown.

“
No, I think I shall torture my husband and his friends with my annoying presence today.”

“
I don’t find you annoying—nor will today be torture. At least not for me and you. I can think of a few privates who will be tortured.”

“
Oh?”

“
Oh.” He returned, grinning. “Come along. You’ll have a good time, I promise. And if you don’t, I shall return you to Mrs. Lewis’ care post haste.”

That won’t be necessary.
She had no idea what Wes planned to do with her today, but short of making her touch a dead animal or forcing her to eat all the food on her plate, nothing could make her want to spend time away from him if she didn’t have to. Not that she disliked Mrs. Lewis and Sarah’s company, she didn’t; but she liked being around Wes more.

Wes reached for her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t you need your coat and hat?”

“
No. Today I don’t have to wear the coatee or shako.”

She nodded then followed him from the room to the dining room, where she ate her toast and his for breakfast.

“So...?” Jack said, drawing the word out and turning to look at Allison, who was sitting across from him.

Allison cast him a quizzical look at the same time that Wes said, “She’ll be there.”

Jack grinned and slapped the table with such force all of the plates and cups on the table clattered.

“
This morning, not tonight,” Wes stated flatly.

Jack’s grin faded, then he shrugged. “The day is still young. You might change your mind.”

Allison looked to Wes to explain what they were talking about, but he seemed to have formed an unusual fascination with his plate.

“
Say, Allison, have you ever volunteered at a hospital or clinic?” Gray asked, lifting his tin cup of coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“
No. Why?”

“
No reason,” Gray said, his lips twitching.

“
No, there has to be a reason,” she argued.

“
Oh, there is,” Jack agreed, not bothering to hide his smile. “A few months ago— Ouch!” Jack abruptly scooted his chair back with a screech.

“
Sorry, Jack, didn’t know your foot was there,” Wes said with all the innocence of a four-year-old found sneaking treats from the kitchen.

Gray, who was seated on the other side of Allison, thus too far out of reach of Wes’ wayward foot, set his tin cup down on the table and spun it twice. “I asked only because you might need to brush up on your nursing skills this afternoon.”

On the other side of her, Wes seemed to be choking on a piece of food—or at least that’s what he’d like her to believe. She’d been in his company long enough to know exactly what he was about. “And why would such skills be needed?”

“
Now, nobody said, you’d
have
to exercise your medical knowledge,” Gray said easily. “It just might be a good idea if you know how to tend to a man in pain that you start devising a plan.”

Allison chanced a glance at Wes who wore a resigned expression, even though his cheeks were as red as her skirt. “Is this a story you’d prefer to tell me—in private, perhaps?”

“No.” He waved his hand through the air. “They can tell you; then I can correct their errors later.”

Gray’s sharp bark of laughter stole her attention. “Wes here hasn’t been allowed on the field since May, when he spilled his blood all over the dust and subjected us all to have to see his bare backside.”

Allison whipped her head around to see Wes. She tried not to laugh at the mental image Gray’s words had conjured up as she lifted her eyebrows and said, “Which part would you care to elaborate on?”

“
Neither,” he grumbled. He sighed and ran his large open palm across the table in front of him. “Jack, do you have anything to add?”

“
Other than some of us weren’t fortunate enough to
only
see your bare arse? No.”

“
You’re the one who volunteered to help stitch him up,” Gray pointed out. “I told you not to, but you volunteered.”

Stitches?

“You only warned me of that because you get ill at the sight of blood. And there was no denying that there was a lot of blood.”

Blood?
Allison turned her eyes back to Wes, this time not on the verge of laughter. “Will you elaborate now?”

Wes’ gaze locked with hers. “I don’t think I need to.” He shrugged. “They’ve told you all of the crucial parts.”

“Except the one about how you started bleeding...oh, and lost your trousers.”

“
I didn’t actually lose my trousers. Someone—” he shot a peeved look at Jack— “thought it best to tear them to see the extent of the injury. As for the injury itself, it was minor and not so important,” he said with another shrug.

“
Yes, it is,” Jack argued excitedly. “That’s the best part!”

“
You’d be the one to think so,” Wes muttered. “You weren’t the one shot in the ass by an incompetent man who supposedly didn’t know his gun was loaded.”

Allison gasped but was stopped from asking any questions when Jack spoke up again. “I’m not incompetent. Private Rucker asked that I look at his gun. He said it was jammed. How was I supposed to know the fool had it loaded?”

“Usually, when a gun is jammed, it’s because the bullet is stuck,” Wes retorted.

“
I didn’t know that. He just said the cock wasn’t working.”

“
I’m sure his wasn’t,” Gray muttered, garnering a piercing look from Wes. “I was just talking about the man’s gun, Wes. What are you thinking about?”

Allison knit her brow but neither thought to inform her of what they were implying, nor did she care overmuch. “How is your...uh...wound?” she asked, unable to stop herself from letting her eyes wander to the general vicinity of where she suspected he was hit.

“My wound is fine. But Jack here might wish to be careful what he says or he might be the one who ends the day having a bullet pulled from his flesh—and if I have anything to say about it, it won’t be his—”

“
All right, boys, let’s go,” Lieutenant McCorkle interrupted, walking up behind them and slapping Wes on the back.

Wes shook his head, then turned his attention to Allison. “Are you ready?”

She cast a glance around at all of the men. “Are you sure I should come. I don’t want to be in the way.”

“
You mean you don’t want to get shot?” Lieutenant McCorkle asked, clapping Wes on the back again.

Wes reached up and grabbed the man’s arm. By the look on the younger man’s face, Wes’ grip had to be quite tight. “We’ll meet you outside.” After the younger man left, Wes shot pointed looks at both Gray and Jack.

Neither seemed to pay him any mind.

Wes sighed and turned his body in his chair so he could face her fully. “You have nothing to fear by going out there with us. We’re going to play a game.”

“You got shot playing a game?”

“
It was an accident,” Gray said helpfully.

Wes scowled at him. “As Gray said, it was an accident. Guns have nothing to do with this game. The gunshot came from someone who wasn’t even playing at the time.”

“So I’ll be able to play without fearing for my life?” she teased.