with a woman. Now, thanks to the brush of Catherine’s breasts against him, that was about all he wanted.
Since he’d started chasing the McDougals, his focus had been solely on the outlaws. He’d spent more time contemplating a woman in the last week than he had in nearly two years. Not just any woman, but one who had kindly taken him in and tended his wounds. One whose brother had most likely given Jericho those wounds. The terror in Catherine’s eyes was as much to blame for his sleeplessness as the discomfort of his freshly opened wound. But it was her words that pricked at him.
“Get off,” she’d said.
He hadn’t been on her, hadn’t been touching her at all right then. Jericho found it strange that she hadn’t asked him to “step back” or “back away,” as Andrew had. The Donnelly boy wasn’t the only one hiding secrets. So was his sister.
Jericho wanted to know who had hurt her. Was it someone she’d loved? She was sweet and, judging from her skittishness last night, most likely untouched. Her innocence drew him even though he knew his concern should be about what it hid.
Was she involved with one of the McDougals? Had one of them hurt her?
The thought of a McDougal putting his hands on Catherine had Jericho’s fist balling. A savage protectiveness sprang loose inside him.
He didn’t understand the ferocity of the emotion. What difference did it make what had happened to her? Losing so much blood had tangled up his reason. He was here to find the McDougal gang, not muse over the arousal triggered by his nurse. Something Jericho wouldn’t act on because of her link to the outlaws.
Even though the image of her in bed with him came too easily, he needed to stay away from her. But for now all he could do was lie in her bed and hope his leg didn’t rot off. He levered himself to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard.
Through the door he caught the sounds of her and Andrew moving around, the low murmur of their voices. His window was open and he heard the pair step onto the porch.
“Have a good day, Andrew.”
The boy grunted, then darted past. After a few seconds, the front door shut and Catherine’s light footsteps sounded on the wooden floor.
After seeing Andrew with that gun last night, Jericho was certain he’d spotted the boy at the ambush that had killed his friend and fellow Ranger, Hays Gentry. Andrew had been right up front with Angus McDougal. Either Catherine was a mighty good liar or she really didn’t suspect her brother of being involved with the gang.
She walked in, interrupting his thoughts. She was a sight today. His gaze hungrily took in the silky fall of black hair over her shoulder. Her pale blue dress with its white apron made the blue of her eyes startlingly bright. She smelled clean, with a hint of verbena; he was so sick of his own smell.
“Good morning.” Her voice was subdued and she didn’t meet his eyes. “How did you sleep?”
Like hell. “Fine.”
Moving to the right side of the bed, she aimed a smile in his direction but still didn’t look at him. Beneath her cool competence, she was embarrassed, he realized. And his damn body responded to her even now.
“I trust you changed your bandage?”
“Yes.” He wanted to set her mind at ease, but keeping his distance was probably best.
She frowned at the sight of the bloodied sheet. She drew it away from his hips and made a strangled sound in her throat. “Lieutenant!”
His leg muscle went into spasm and he winced, cursing.
“How long has this been bleeding?”
“Not sure.”
Her gaze cut sharply to him as she carefully peeled the blood-soaked sheet from his drawers.
She looked so alarmed that he felt a jolt of concern himself. “It probably just needs a new bandage. I’m not too good at that kind of stuff.”
“It’s been bleeding all night, hasn’t it?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just breezed out of the room and returned in a few minutes with a bowl of water, a rag and a tin of soap.
“I knew these stitches were torn. I should’ve tended to you last night,” she muttered under her breath.
Jericho didn’t like to see her blaming herself. They both knew why she hadn’t gotten close enough to him to see the damage. “It’s not your fault. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”
“You’re not going to die now, either.” Determination firmed her lips. “I was afraid of this. I had Andrew go to the fort early this morning, but Dr. Butler was off tending a man who was crushed by a horse on his ranch. I’ll have to restitch you, but it should be bearable, since I have laudanum for the pain.”
“No laudanum.” Jericho didn’t fancy being knocked out when he had so many suspicions about her and her brother.
“I don’t have anything else. I’m so sorry.”
“You do what you have to and I’ll be grateful. Got any whiskey?” he asked hopefully.
“No, but I can get some in town.”
“I’ve got some in my saddlebag.”
By pressing a warm cloth to his leg she eventually loosened his stiff, bloodied drawers. She stared uncertainly down at his leg, her neck growing pink.
“What?” Jericho’s gaze shifted there, too, as he tried to figure out why she was blushing. His manhood was behaving, so he wasn’t sure why Catherine seemed so embarrassed all of a sudden.
“I’ll get that whiskey.” She wiped her hands down the front of her clean white apron. “Do you think you can get out of your drawers by yourself?”
So that was it. She didn’t want to undress him. Why did he find that amusing? “Yeah.”
His blood started humming and he could feel himself grow hard. Thanks to the pain that would come when she started to restitch his wound, that wouldn’t last long. Still, he didn’t want to scare the lady off again.
She walked to the corner and bent to rummage through his saddlebags, looking for the whiskey. Using his left hand, he pushed his drawers to his knees, then managed to tug them off with his foot. He was naked by the time she returned to the bed.
She passed the bottle to him without meeting his eyes.
“If you want to wait for the doctor, you can,” he offered.
Distress drew her features tight. “No, I don’t think we should wait. I’ll do this as quickly as I can.”
He nodded, uncorking the whiskey and swallowing a hefty amount. Maybe if he got drunk he wouldn’t rise to the occasion the way he seemed to every time she got within a foot of him.
She crossed herself, then pulled a chair up to the bed. Gingerly she folded the sheet away from his injury, careful to keep his manhood and vital parts covered.
The
