In His Eyes(60)

“Thank you, no.”

Ella dropped a spoonful of sugar into her own cup and stirred, alarmed to see that her hand shook.

“The doctor, you say?”

Ella held the cup in both hands, afraid the liquid might spill. “Yes.”

The man frowned. “The only doctor anywhere around here left for Memphis three weeks ago. A new one was due last week, but he hasn’t shown up yet.”

Ella’s heart pounded. No, no, that couldn’t be. Then who would look at Lee? Heat flooded her face and blood pulsed in her ears, obscuring the words the man spoke. She didn’t care what he had to say anyway.

If there was no doctor….

Ella swayed. No doctor. No hope. No hope for her wee one….

Ella fanned her face. Hot. Much too hot. Her stomach rolled. “Oh, my, I’m not feeling so well….” She tried to stand and became dizzy.

The edges of her vision turned black and Ella swayed again, dropping back into her chair. The man’s reedy face peered down on her, and then the world faded away.





Walking as briskly as the cane would allow, Westley made the turn from the river road and onto the drive leading to Belmont. The two bottles in his pocket clinked together with each hitched step he took. He hoped the remedies would do until he could present himself at the nearest Federal outpost and ask after a doctor. Even if the town didn’t have one, the army would.

His cane crunched the rocks along the road, in harmony with the throb that gained intensity in his leg the longer he walked. Good thing he only had to walk to the Martins’ and back instead of all the way into Greenville. He glanced at the sky, wishing he had a watch. How worked up had Miss Whitaker gotten herself in the hours he’d been gone?

Now that a new day had arrived, would she remember the way she’d wanted him to stay at her side? Would she look at him the way he imagined her eyes sought his in the moonlight? The memory of her whispered words and the desperation in her tears quickened his pace.

As Westley neared the house, the sight of a fine horse in a polished leather saddle brought a furrow to his forehead. The horse, Federal, no doubt, nickered at him as he passed. Westley hurried to the front porch and into the house, ignoring the increased pain in his thigh.

A man’s voice came from the right. Westley left the front door open and strode into the parlor, and the sight within ignited an inferno in his gut.

A soldier in blue leaned over Miss Whitaker, who lay sprawled out over one of the chairs in the parlor. An askew tea tray covered the parlor table. Westley dropped his cane, and in two strides had the man’s shoulder in his grasp.

He flung the man around and gathered his lapels in his fists. The other man’s brown eyes widened.

“Who are you?” Westley growled.

“Corporal Briggs.”

Westley’s nose came close to touching the other man’s bulbous one. “And just what, Corporal, are you doing with the lady?”

The man frowned, and brought up his hands to shove Westley away, but Westley tightened his grip on the fabric near the scoundrel’s throat.

“She fainted!” He reached up and grabbed onto Westley’s forearms. “I merely tried to rouse her. I assure you, nothing unseemly occurred!”

Westley shoved the man away, the tinges of rage at the edges of his vision clearing. What had caused him to act so rashly? He raked his gaze down the startled man. The fellow stared at him, seeming unsure what he should do. Deciding the man would not soon retaliate against Westley’s aggression, he stepped over to Ella and dropped to his knee. He reached up and cupped her pale face. “Ella? Ella, can you hear me?”

She stirred and nestled her face into his hand. The heat pulsing through him shifted, and he leaned closer. “Come now, you must wake.”

She gave a soft moan and her eyelids fluttered. “There you are,” she whispered. She turned her lips into his hand. Westley froze, the feel of her silky lips pressing a kiss onto his palm doing something to him he could not describe.

She turned her head back, rubbing her cheek back through his hand. Ella’s eyes lazily lifted, and she smiled. His pulse quickened. Was this what she looked like when her guard fell? Warm green eyes that sparkled and lips that yielded to softness rather than hard lines? “Ella….”

Suddenly her eyes flew wide and she lurched. “Oh!”

Westley leaned back, but did not rise. “Are you all right?”

She blinked rapidly at him, wariness falling over her eyes like a dirty veil. “What are you doing?”

Despite himself, he smiled. Ah, the dragon once more. “It seems, my dear, that you fainted in the company of this good soldier.”

“I….” Her nose wrinkled. “Oh, my.” She sat up and ran a hand across her tresses. “I am terribly sorry.”

Westley awkwardly rose, the flair of forgotten pain in his leg stealing his breath.

She placed her fingers to her flushed cheeks. “He said that the doctor….” Her eyes flashed and she jumped to her feet. She began to sway and Westley grabbed her elbow. She blinked at him. “Where is the doctor?”

Westley eased her back into the seat and knelt beside her once more, even though the effort caused perspiration to prick his brow. “I will have to go to a Federal outpost to find one.”

Tears flooded her eyes, and Westley hurried on. “But see here,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I have gotten him medicines for the cough until I can fetch a doctor.”