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Lungs heaving, Joseph stood over his spoils. “Stockton will hear of this.”
“You think…he will believe you…” Knees up, hands between his legs, Greene struggled to speak. “You will hang for this.”
Joseph spun to Hannah, his heart collapsing at the blood still dripping from her nose. Reaching her in a few long strides, he knelt beside her, examining her condition before quickly untying the cloth from around his neck. He held it to her nose. “Can you stand?”
“Aye.”
Reaching around her waist, he helped her up and pressed her toward Anvil. “We must get back quickly.”
Round, worried eyes clung to him. “What will they—” Her vision drifted down, and she stopped hard. “Joseph! You’re bleeding.”
The pain in his side had only now begun to wail, and even still it was more a faraway cry, for he could not think of himself before her.
“’Tis nothing.” He lifted her on the horse and swung up behind her, holding her steady with an arm around her waist. “Yaw!”
Still on the ground beside his motionless friend, Greene spewed curses as they rode past. “Stockton will hear of this. He will hang you, Young!”
Joseph held tight to her as they rode. “Do you have wounds I cannot see?”
She shook her head quick and shallow. “Nay.” She glanced behind, removing the cloth from her nose. “Joseph, I am worried about you. We must—”
“Worry not.”
Her light hand smoothed over his arm that held her, and suddenly his lungs went weightless, almost floating behind his ribs. Did she know what her touch did to him?
Again she glanced behind. “I shall tend it the moment we return home.”
He tried to protest, but she stopped him. “No argument.”
Almost as if his body obeyed a command his mind hadn’t authorized, he tugged her harder against him, speaking low in her ear. “We shall be home soon.”
And they were, thank the Lord. Leaving Anvil in the yard, Joseph dismounted and helped Hannah down. She hurried to the door, swinging it open and racing to the kitchen. He entered after and shut the door behind him.
“Come in here.” Her voice echoed toward him.
Obeying, he stepped into the kitchen, grinding his teeth against the pain that continued to crescendo.
She looked behind to see he’d joined her and motioned to the worktable against the wall. “Lean against here. I must have a look.”
Hurriedly she helped him remove his coat and unbuttoned his leather waistcoat. Staring down at the top of her hair, feeling her touch against his clothes, the pain retreated to a low throb, his pulse thundering.
Jerking her fingers back, Hannah stilled, staring at the half-unbuttoned waistcoat. “Oh, I…I suppose I should let you…do the rest.”
Turning, she busied her
self with placing a pot of water over the fire and went to the cupboard for a sheet she tore into rags. Joseph finished with the remaining buttons and let only a slight grunt free as he removed his shirt. He twisted to peer at the still-streaming gash. Deep. He looked up just as Hannah turned his direction.
Her cheeks instantly pinked as her eyes trailed from his chest to his abdomen. Masculine pride swelled through him, and another measure of the dissonant throbbing eased to the back of his mind. Striding forward, Hannah directed her gaze at his wound, not allowing him another pleasant peek at the attraction he’d spied so clear in her rosy expression.
She stood only inches from him. “Raise your arm.” Direct, calm, she plucked a bandage from the table and bent her head sideways, examining his wound from another angle. “I should not like to stitch it…” At that she looked up at him, solemn angst in the upward pinch of her brow. “I fear that shall pain you more.”
He nodded. “Wrap it first.”
She swallowed and folded a thick wad of dressing atop the draining gash. Another stab of pain jabbed, but the discomfort vanished as her dainty, cool fingers rested against his skin. Holding the dressing in place, she took another long strip and all but hugged him as she wrapped the long cloth around his torso. The neckcloth that covered her chest dusted just below his, and instantly the pain was gone and in its place a full, consuming need. She pulled back, then hugged around him again, taking the bandage around a second time. His pulse tripled, carrying him like a fallen leaf on a warm autumn breeze—blissful and heedless of where it would take him.
After a third time, she paused and tied a careful knot just below the cut. “There. ’Tis fine for now, but I shall change it again when I’ve prepared the salve.”
“Thank you.”
