Free Her Hard to Resist Husband by Tina Beckett Page B

hammocks. And she’d never been more keenly aware of that fact than she was now. The village was still and quiet. The military doctors had taken up the night shift, leaving Tracy and Ben to get five or six hours of sleep, which was what she should be doing right now, rather than lying here staring at the ceiling. Luckily, Ben was facing away from her and couldn’t see her restless movements. He’d fallen asleep almost as soon as his body had hit the hammock, while she’d pretended to do the same. Was still pretending, in fact.
    Just like she’d pretended that kiss today was the result of exhaustion and stress.
    He turned unexpectedly, and Tracy clamped her eyelids shut, trying to breathe slowly and deeply, even though her heart was pounding out a crazy tattoo. The sound of a throat clearing, some more rustling and then a low, exasperated curse met her ears. She felt a rush of air against her and the movement of his hammock disturbing hers where they intersected at the bottom.
    Soft footsteps. Another oath. Then the sound of a door quietly opening and closing. Just like the last three nights.
    She waited for several seconds before she got up the courage to open her eyes again and peek.
    Yep. He was gone. Where was he disappearing to each night? The restroom? If so, that meant he’d be back in a matter of minutes—which he never was. She pushed her fingers through the open-weave fabric of her hammock in irritation, squeezing the fibers tight. Instead of wondering where he was, she should be using this time to try to go to sleep.
    Fat chance of that now.
    She continued to lie very still, waiting, staring at the closed door on the other side of the tiny room.
    But fifteen minutes later there was still no sign of him, just like on previous nights. Had he decided he couldn’t sleep? Yes, it was hot in the room—the fan doing nothing more than fluffing the balmy air—but it would be just as hot no matter where he went.
    Did this have something to do with their kiss, earlier? If that were the case, then what was his excuse on the other nights?
    Crossing her arms over her chest, she closed her eyes again and tried for the umpteenth time to go to sleep. Morning was going to come, and with it a whole new day of struggles and trials as they tried to care for their remaining patients.
    Seven more days. That’s how long Ben figured it would take to get the epidemic under control.
    And that’s how long she had to kick this stupid attraction to the curb and keep herself out of Ben’s bed.
    Seven, very long days.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    “ C LEO’S RIGHT HERE , honey.”
    Gently placing a moist cloth across Daniel’s feverish brow, Tracy nodded at the neighboring cot, where Ben was adjusting the IV pole.
    The boy had finally regained consciousness, four days after being found in the field. His first words had been to ask about his sister. The plea had remained throughout the day, sometimes interrupted by bouts of coughing, sometimes gasped between harsh breaths, but he never relented. The question was there each time he rallied for a few moments. And it made Tracy’s heart squeeze. It was as if, even in his precarious state, he refused to believe Cleo was alive unless he saw it for himself.
    Ben had finally relented and offered to shuffle patients around so that the brother and sister could remain close to each other’s sides, despite the fact that he’d wanted patients placed according to severity of illness. Daniel was still gravely ill, whereas Cleo’s sickness had not ravaged her young body as much as those of some of their other patients. She said her head still ached, but she hadn’t worsened.
    Daniel’s glassy eyes swiveled to the right. “Clee,” he whispered, shaky fingers reaching across the space and then dropping before he succeeded in reaching the other bed.
    “She’s here, Daniel, but she’s asleep right now. We have to let her rest so she can be strong and healthy again.” Her gloved fingers brushed back a