could not help that he was made the way he was. It was not as though the lad was the only man ever born with more female traits than was good.
Dev promptly fell into a restless half-sleep where cannon and musket shot echoed in his ears, and the stench of burning flesh swamped his nostrils.
A short time later Pippa re-entered the room with a tray. Warm tea and a steaming bowl of beef-flavoured gruel would do wonders for her invalid.
Putting the tray on a nearby table, she saw her patient—Deverell St Simon, she told herself—had slipped back into a troubled sleep. Sweat dotted his brow and his hands clenched the sheet in bunches. The urge to soothe him was as overpowering as it was bewildering. All her life she had felt the need to help others, but never had the desire to care for another made her body shake. Why, she knew nothing about this man except his name, and that meant nothing to her.
She took a controlling breath and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jolted awake.
‘Who—?’ He broke off, his eyes wide, his body jerking upward. ‘Angel?’
His eyes searched her face, bringing a blush of awareness as his attention lingered on her mouth before sliding down to where her breasts would be if she had not bound them.
Pippa pushed him gently down on the pillows. ‘Calm yourself,’ she murmured. “Tis only me, Pip—Pippen.’ She had almost said her own name, she was sure because of his blatant regard. She must be more careful, constantly on guard. It would not be easy. ‘I have brought you some food.’
His eyes lost their startled look and his gaze fell away from her face. Some of the tension left his body. ‘For a moment I thought you were someone else. A…a woman.’
Pippa kept her countenance smooth, showing only mild interest. ‘What would a woman be doing in here?’
He turned away. ‘I don’t know. I thought a green-eyed lady cared for me while I was unconscious.’ He looked back at Pippa. ‘She had your face. Only I would swear, she had the sweet curves of a female.’ He sighed. ‘But enough of daydreaming. Right now I could eat the landlady’s entire larder.’
Pippa chuckled, letting the relief she felt at his change of topic ease the tightness that had mounted in her shoulders during his talk of a strange woman. He was remembering the time she had sponged him. ‘You will eat lightly. I don’t want you throwing everything up no sooner than you get it down.’
He grimaced.
Pippa put her fists on her hips, feet shoulder width apart, and looked at him. Belatedly she realized what she was doing. The pose was natural with her when dealing with her brother, and invariably it put her twin’s back up. It would probably do the same to her patient.
With a sigh at her own mishandling of the situation, she quickly sat down on the only stool the room had and ladled up some of the gruel. She put the spoon to his lips. Instead of opening his mouth, his nose wrinkled in disgust and he scowled at her.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘You need food to get well, and you need food that is easy on your digestion. Later, when you are better and your stomach can handle mutton, I will allow you a complete meal.’ When his face softened, she added the clincher, ‘I don’t have the time or energy to care for you longer than necessary. I’m already late for my shift at the hospital.’
She watched his countenance as irritation warred with consideration. Consideration won. Pippa had been right about the way to handle him. It was the way she would have dealt with her twin.
Dev swallowed the gruel quickly, and Pippa was sure that if he had the energy and the bad manners, he would pinch his nose closed. Afterwards, she sponged off his face as professionally as she could when his nearness made her stomach knot. That finished, she tucked the covers around his chest to protect him from a draught.
Her face flamed at the familiarity of the gesture and the feel of his muscled shoulders under her fingers. It was a relief to turn away and prepare a draught.
‘Take this,’ she said, pivoting back and tipping the glass to his lips.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ he groused, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the glass Pippa still held.
Mind-startling awareness travelled from where they touched to explode in Pippa’s chest. She stepped abruptly away and chattered, ‘The drink is laudanum for sleep and pain and bark for the fever and inflammation. When I return, I will change your dressing, but ‘twill not be until late tonight. If you need anything, ring this bell and the landlady will come.’ She laid a brass bell with wooden handle by the bed.
‘Thank you,’ he said solemnly. ‘I won’t ever forget what I owe you.’
“Tis nothing,’ Pippa mumbled, grabbing up her coat and heading for the safety of the hospital.
The less time she spent in her handsome patient’s company now that he was awake, the better for her peace of mind. She was here in Brussels to find her twin, not get herself embroiled with a man who might be anyone. But even if he was the Prince Regent himself—which he wasn’t because he was much thinner than that corpulent royal—she would not be interested. She was going to dedicate her life to healing.
Best, when she returned, to find out if he had lodgings somewhere and arrange for him to be moved there. Surely there was someone who could look after him. That decision made, Pippa found herself alternately unsettled at the thought of him alone and relieved that he would no longer be a constant temptation to her.
Arriving at the crowded hospital, she set to work with a vengeance. There was always so much to do and not enough people or supplies to do it with.
Bent over the ripped arm of a sergeant, Pippa concentrated on removing the dressing with as little pain as possible. Gangrene had set in.
‘How is it?’ the man asked, agony etching furrows in his brow.
Pippa looked from the arm that would need to be amputated to the man’s face. It was all she could do to keep tears from slipping down her face. ‘You will need the surgeon to look at you,’ she said calmly, quietly, hoping the sergeant didn’t see the truth in her eyes. ‘For now, I am going to clean it and let it lay unwrapped. The air will do it good.’
What she didn’t tell the man was that it would not matter what she did, and the surgeon would be glad of the time saved by not having to remove a bandage. Too many soldiers needed operations. Sighing, Pippa stood and knuckled the kinks in her lower back.
‘You, young man,’ a French-accented female voice said imperiously. ‘Come here.’
Pippa was getting used to being called a boy and turned to see if the woman was speaking to her. A small, blonde Pocket Venus with the biggest, bluest eyes Pippa had ever seen, knelt less than ten feet away with a soldier’s head in her lap. The woman was dressed in the height of fashion in a sprigged muslin dress, all of which was covered by a voluminous apron. Definitely a lady, but the accent was wrong for a British hospital.
Pippa strode to her. ‘Madam?’
‘Lady Witherspoon.’ She motioned Pippa down. ‘This man needs a bath and I cannot give it. The water is right here and a piece of soap.’
Pippa nearly choked. This was one of the few duties she had managed to avoid. ‘Ah, milady…’
