Free The Vacant Chair by Kaylea Cross Page B

growth of black beard, he was absolutely heart-stopping. How had she ever forgotten that face? The mutual longing between them was so intense that when he opened his eyes and smiled at her, she tore her gaze away and shoved to her feet to pull a breath of air into her lungs. The tent suddenly felt too small for the both of them, and she swore he must have been able to hear the pounding of her heart.
    When she spun away, he caught her hand in his. His touch seared her as he tugged her back toward the side of the bed. Her pulse beat frantically in her throat as she resisted.
    “Don’t go yet,” he said.
    She flashed him a frown. She’d be an idiot to stay. Her feet, however, refused to move.
    A slight frown creased his brow. “Why didn’t you tell me before that you were a widow?”
    The question surprised her so much that she went still. He was only touching her hand, yet it brought her dormant body to tingling wakefulness no matter how she fought to curb the reaction. She raised her chin. “I didn’t realize it would be of any importance to you.”
    “It wasn’t.”
    A stab of disappointment dulled her annoyance, confusing and irritating her even more. “Good.” Why wasn’t she yanking her hand away and leaving?
    “But it is now,” he added. “You’ve never talked about him.”
    This time she tugged at his hand and his grip didn’t lessen. She huffed out a breath. “I don’t make it a habit to talk about my personal life with my patients.”
    “I’ve noticed that. But I don’t want to be just another patient to you.”
    Unexpected warmth bloomed in her abdomen, spreading up to her breasts and down between her legs. His eyes were so intent on her face, making her believe there was more than simple physical attraction between them and that he really cared about her. Impossible. He’d only been here a week.
    “Did he die in the war?”
    Her lips thinned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”
    He threw her off balance again by continuing. “How old were you when you got married?”
    The blood rushed to her face as her temper lit. “Old enough,” she blurted at his rudeness. She didn’t want to discuss this.
    “Did you love him?”
    “I still love him,” she corrected. “Very much.” She managed to wrench free of his grasp and bent to scoop up the soiled bedding, her face flaming from a mixture of anger and confusion. “I have to get back to work.” She rose, brushed the front of her skirts, and barely made it a step before he called out.
    “Wait—”
    “What?” she snapped, casting a hard look at him over her shoulder. Everyone in the tent had heard him. She felt their gazes keenly.
    He maintained eye contact and beckoned her closer with one hand, which she refused to do. “Why are you avoiding me?” 
    Her hands stiffened around the bedding. How could he know that? She covered the distance between them quickly and lowered her voice so the other men wouldn’t overhear the rest of this wretched conversation. “I’m not avoiding you.”
    “Yes, you are. Have I done something to offend you?”
    Other than just now? “No.”
    “Then why are you suddenly so uncomfortable around me?”
    You know why. She would rather suffer torture than admit her attraction to him. “I’m not anything but exasperated at the moment, Captain.”
    He kept studying her with that maddeningly knowing expression on his face. “No?”
    “No, and I wish you would stop trying to imply otherwise.”
    He lowered his voice to a murmur. “Because it makes you uncomfortable.”
    “Yes.” And he damn well knew it.
    “Because you feel something more for me than professional interest, and you don’t want to. Right?”
    Her mouth fell open, but no sound left her throat. How dare he? How dare he speak to her that way? His truthful words cut her, and the hungry, knowing expression in his eyes was too much to bear. As if he had any inkling of how she felt, how confusing and unsettling all this was.
    In