Free Hawk's Prize by Elaine Barbieri

So the bastard said his name was Drew
Collins.
He had the same given name as Harold Hawk’s younger son. Coincidence? He doubted it, but he needed to be sure so he could take care of this particularly vulnerable fellow and be certain that
this
Hawk would be the
last
one to return to Galveston.
    Angie would get the confirmation he needed. With the younger Hawk son taken care of, he could eliminate the others, one by one.
    He looked forward to it.
     
    “I brought you something to eat.”
    Drew did not respond as Tricia entered the room with a tray in hand. Neither did he smile. He didn’t like being stuck in bed, helpless because of a debility that he was unable to dismiss any longer. He knew that with every moment he remained in a city overrun by Yankees, the danger of being recognized increased.
    But that wasn’t his present problem.
    Drew watched as Tricia placed the tray with a bowl of broth on the bed stand beside him. It irritated him that despite the pain in his leg, her fragrance assaulted his senses and her presence alerted him to a part of himself that he had difficulty ignoring.
    Morning sunlight streamed into the room as Drew stared at Tricia’s turned back. She wasn’t wearing the blue dressing gown. Instead, she was wearing a plain, tan cotton dress. Her long blond hair was twisted into a conservative bun at the back of her neck, where a few escaping tendrils fell loose to remind him of its glittering glory.
    Her expression was severe.
    But she was still beautiful.
    And he still wanted her.
    Drew’s mouth twitched as desire expanded inside him. He wanted to sense her lips softening under his, to feel them part to allow the gentle exploration of his tongue, to taste the sweetness of her mouth. He yearned to draw her down onto the bed beside him so he could indulge the emotions running riot inside him—so he could prove to himself that she wasn’t an angel after all, that she was flesh and blood and—
    Drew halted the heated progression of his thoughtswith sheer strength of will. Rationally, he told himself that the last trace of fever still haunting him was at fault and that his hunger for this young woman would fade when he was well again—but he knew better. There was only one way to ease what he was feeling.
    Drew pulled himself to a seated position in bed. A day had passed since he had attempted to leave the bordello with disastrous results. He had spent another night in the gaudy room with the sound of male footsteps and female giggles echoing in his dreams—and with the angel in blue at his side.
    During that time, he had learned through snatches of conversation overheard at the doorway that Tricia Lee Shepherd was not the woman he had thought her to be. She was the madam’s daughter, who had only recently returned from up North and she did not participate in the services of the house. Dr. Wesley, obviously prejudiced in her behalf, had rambled on about her, extolling her virtues as he tended Drew’s leg. Drew had not bothered to reply that his
angel
had merely returned to her roots.
    Tricia turned back toward him, the gold flecks in her clear eyes sending heat shooting through him as she said, “You should eat something so you can maintain your strength.”
    He replied gruffly, “I’m strong enough.”
    “But you’re hungry.”
    He was hungry, all right.
    “Mr. Collins . . .”
    Revealing seconds passed before Drew realized she was addressing him, and he said abruptly, “My name is Drew.”
    He noted her hesitation as she said, “You know my name is Tricia Shepherd, but I hesitate to allow the intimacy of first names between us since we’re barely acquainted.”
    Drew would have laughed if he’d felt the slightest bit merry. Instead, he replied boldly, “You’ve seen me practically naked; you’ve spent two nights alone with me in this room while I’ve been exposed to you as I’ve never been with any other woman—so I’d say you know me more intimately than most women