Free A Fire in the Blood by Shirl Henke Page B

out a cloth soaked in the hot water and began to cleanse the affected area.
           He cocked an eyebrow. "You've treated injuries before though?"
           She forced a gamine grin. "You afraid of my skills, Robbins? I was a hospital volunteer in St. Louis." She did not add that she had only been allowed to tend women and children in the hospital. Here at J Bar her duties had never been more serious than to bind up blistered feet or rope-burned fingers.
           She felt the housekeeper's eyes burning into her back as she worked. "Hold that pot of water closer, Germaine."
           Casting a half fearful look at Jess, the housekeeper spoke in rapid French. "You have never tended a half-naked man before. You should have had the hands carry him to the mess kitchen for treatment. You are only doing this because you desire him. Tis a foolish schoolgirl's fancy."
           "Somehow I suspect Miss Lissa's touch is a lot gentler than the mess cook's, whatever her motive," Jess replied in smooth, idiomatic French.
           Germaine Channault almost dropped the pot she was so reluctantly holding. Her face took on a hue even darker than the rosy color of the bloody water inside the pot. She sputtered but said nothing.
           Lissa jerked the cloth away from his wounded side, her cheeks, too, scalded with a blush. "Where on earth did you leam to speak French?"
           His voice was amused. "Not in the same place you did."
           "Certainly not likely, since I learned in a girls' school—Miss Jefferson's Academy in St. Louis. Every lady must possess the social graces of French conversation," she parroted in that language. "Where did you study?"
           He shrugged, then winced as she resumed her ministrations. "North Africa. I was in the French Legion."
           "The French Foreign Legion?" Her eyes were round as Mexican gold pieces.
           "It's not as romantic as they'd like you to believe," he said drily, then changed the subject. "You ever sew up flesh before?"
           She blanched but met his eyes. "I've embroidered hundreds of samplers." She swallowed. "It can't be all that different. The gash is clean now." She stood up and began to search through the medical supplies for a needle and thread.
           Jess watched her work, noticing the faint trembling in her hands. For all that, she had been amazingly calm and levelheaded at the sight of so much blood. "Most women I know would have a fit of vapors and leave me to tend myself. I've sewn up more than a few of my own wounds."
           "I think you'd better let me handle this one," she said as she pressed a fresh cold towel to his side. "This will slow the bleeding," she added. Covertly Lissa studied his bronzed, muscular arms and chest. His skin was marred in several places by small white scars. What a pity such a beautiful body has to be disfigured. Heat flamed her cheeks again as she tore her eyes from the sleek muscles and patterns of crisp black hair. On second thought, the scars were not very discernible and only added to his exotic virility. She fought the urge to run her hands over his skin. "I see you've led every bit as dangerous a life as your reputation would lead me to imagine."
           "A debauched and disreputable life, too." He smiled cynically, as if reading her mind, and watched her blush again.
           She eyed the needle and thread. "You're the one who'll pay for making me nervous. Her tone was acerbic.
           "I make you nervous because I'm forbidden, Lissa. You're just intrigued because you're defying convention." He turned his gaze to Germaine.
           The housekeeper's lips thinned, but she said, "He is telling the truth, Lissa. You should leave him alone."
           "Is that what you really want, Jess? For me to leave you alone?" she teased as she reached for the needle she had laid out on the table beside them.
           Ignoring her taunt, he