The Vacant Chair by Kaylea Cross Page A

Despite her growing feelings for him.
    But oh, how she would have loved for him to gather her up in his strong arms and hold her right now. Something twisted in her chest at the thought.
    Without conscious thought she began walking to his tent. Standing outside it, she hesitated. What was she doing? The last thing she needed was to encourage whatever attraction existed between them. Nothing good could ever come from it. He’d be going home soon. She’d already had her heart broken when Caleb died. Did she want more pain when Captain Thompson left?
    Standing outside in the dew-dampened grass, she had to admit he was worth the pain. She shivered, longing to go to him. Her heart slowed, throbbing hard in her chest. God help her, but -she needed him. Craved him with a power that frightened her.
    Go to him.
    The thought was so clear and commanding that she obeyed.
    On the top step, she peered in. He was propped up, watching the flap like he’d been expecting her. The other beds were empty.
    She swallowed. They might never have this kind of privacy again.
    Brianna wrapped her arms around her ribs and took a step forward.
     His gaze tracked her, filled with warmth and the same longing she felt. “Hello,” he said in that deep voice that made her belly curl.
    “Hello.” She retreated into her nursing role. “How are you feeling? Any new bleeding?”
    “No, and the pain’s a bit better today. I can even sit up and turn over without help now.”
    She reached out and eased the placket of his nightshirt open to check the bandages on his ribs, relieved to find them clean. “Are you hungry at all?”
    “No, I ate earlier.” A heartbeat passed before he spoke again. His gaze probed hers, intimate enough to send a bolt of heat through her. “I was afraid you weren’t coming back because of all the new wounded. And because of what I said the other day.”
    She averted her eyes. “Not at all.”
    “To think I waited around here all day for the chance to see you,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. When she didn’t so much as smile in response, he frowned and tilted his head, regarding her with growing concern. His gaze narrowed on her cheeks, then flicked up to meet her eyes. “Are you all right?”
    Oh, his voice. Low and smooth as velvet. She shook herself. “I’m a little tired, is all.” The fatigue pulled at her, more shivers passing over her chilled skin. She glanced at the stool beside the bed and gathered her nerve. “May I sit with you for a while?”
    His expression softened with pleasure. “Of course.”
    She sat, wanting instead to curl up in his lap like a child and absorb his easy strength. His right arm pillowed his head, the gap in his shirt giving her an eyeful of his powerful biceps and sculpted chest. The lamplight played over his jaw and formed glowing blue highlights in his hair. She shouldn’t be here. Not given how weak and vulnerable she felt. Not with this pull between them. Definitely not when they were alone.
    As though he sensed her uncertainty, Justin reached out and took her hand, and let go when she winced. His sharp eyes found the angry marks coloring her skin, though the fever made her whole body felt bruised. He rubbed his thumb over them as if to soothe them away and met her eyes with another frown.
    He raised a hand to her cheek, sucked in a breath the instant he touched her. “Brianna, you’re burning up.”
    Brianna, he’d said. Not Mrs. Taylor. He sounded so concerned, his voice at once comforting and protective. Why did that make her want to cry? “I thought so.”
    “You need to see a doctor—”
    “We ran out of ether and chloroform earlier,” she said softly instead, taking solace in his presence. One patient had nearly bent the bones in her hands, he’d squeezed so hard in his agony. “That’s how many men came in.”
    His frown deepened. “We need to get you some medicine.”
    She shook her head, not wanting to cause a fuss. Besides, the best medicine for her