“What is Ireland like?” she asked.
The wistful tone of her voice tugged at him, bringing to memory the misty fields and rocky coastlines. That’s what he wanted to tell her of, but he couldn’t deceive her, he wouldn’t. He lifted his chin in the direction of the tent opening.
“Not much different than this I am afraid. Death and dyin’ all around.”
She swallowed hard. “I am so sorry. It must be terrible to have moved from one battle-torn country to another.”
One of his shoulders lifted in a half shrug. “’Tis different here. At least half the country is not yet a battlefield, and there is hope.”
“Some days it doesn’t feel like it,” she murmured. Shaking her head and disrupting the waves of hair that cascaded across her shoulders, she drew her hands into her lap. “Why do you fight?”
“’Cause no one deserves to live in chains.”
Her delicate eyebrows rose. “Truly, that is why?”
He made himself meet her gaze. There was more to why, but he couldn’t tell her, not just yet. “This surprises you?”
Shaking her head, she took one of his hands in hers. Warmth poured into him. Being enveloped in her skin made him a bit dizzy, but in a wonderful way. In proper society a woman wouldn’t even touch him without gloves on. He was beginning to enjoy being out of society more and more.
“No, not at all. You seem like a good man. I only meant that many soldiers fight to preserve the Union rather than to end slavery,” she was quick to say.
“’Tis a grand reason as well, to be sure, but I believe a country built upon the backs of others cannot stand for long,” he admitted.
This made her smile, but oddly, it was one filled with sadness instead of mirth. “What of one birthed out of the blood of the Irish? The 69th, 63rd, and 88th brigades are almost all entirely Irishmen. And I have seen far too many of them die.”
The sad tone of her voice told him what her blank expression would not.
“Then it shall be one born of the finest, strongest blood of all.”
Eyes brimming with tears met his, and he saw something else shining in their depths—respect. “Two of my brothers have already died and another, my younger brother Michael, has gone missing,” she offered up.
His hands gripped hers tighter, thumbs caressing the backs of her fingers. “This country will be better for their sacrifice, but I’m sorry they were taken from you.”
Tears glistened on her lashes as she looked away. “Thank you.” The words were barely a whisper.
“That is what you were doin’ on the battlefield after the doctors and ambulance wagons had already retreated. You were lookin’ for Michael.”
She nodded. “He needs me.”
Cliste’s head suddenly lifted from his leg, her ears perking up. Tension pulled her shoulders up, readied her body for movement. Her eyes darted from Ashlinn, to him, and back again. At the same time he moved to grab his stolen musket and pack, Ashlinn put on her satchel, coat, and grabbed the doctor’s bag. Part of him admired the fact that he didn’t have to prompt her into action; another part of him became saddened that she would know such hardship.
Eyes scanning the rainy forest, catching on each shadow that twilight had lengthened, he moved from the tent in a crouch. Full dark was yet a half hour away, but enough cover existed that they should be able to sneak away unnoticed. That is, if someone else didn’t have the same idea. As he scanned their surroundings, Ashlinn reached for the tent. Grabbing her hand, he shook his head and tapped below one ear. She nodded and moved her hand away from the treated fabric.
Nose lifting into the air, Cliste followed them out. The hair along her back rose as her head snapped to the south. Thankfully, she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t have to. Her mannerisms made it painfully clear. Someone was out there.
Chapter 6
Chills raced through Ashlinn regardless of the warm, damp July night. She knew Cliste’s signs all too well. Someone was coming. The rain began to let up, the misty gray created by it slowly dissipating. For once, she actually wanted the constant drizzle of the last few days to come back. Thankfully, their dark blue uniforms would help hide them in the coming night. But it would still be a while yet before full dark fell.
Legs bent to keep low, she crept along beside Sean, one hand buried in Cliste’s fur. She had learned that by having direct contact with the hound, it not only calmed them both, but she could feel when Cliste tensed at something. Though he had to be in immense pain, Sean moved with the ease of a seasoned soldier, head scanning, hands ready on his rifle. The gun should have put her at ease, but instead it made her blood pump so fast she became light-headed. If he fired it and there was more than one enemy soldier out there, they’d all know exactly where they were.
The desire to reach for Sean made her muscles ache. Not only did she want to warn him, she wanted the comfort of touching him. But she knew she had to trust him, and that distracting him was a bad idea. Instead she stayed as close to his side as she dared, just out of the reach of the rifle barrel. They moved carefully through the underbrush, sticking to it and using it to hide them. Darkness spread with each moment, helping to cloak them even more.
“I’m telling you I heard something,” came a gruff voice from far too close.
Ashlinn exchanged a wide-eyed look with Sean. He grabbed ahold of her, pulled her behind a tree, and pressed her against it. Wrapped in his arms, his warm body against hers, a false sense of safety drifted over her. She’d never been so close to a man she wasn’t related to before, and certainly never like this. Sean was all hard planes of muscle against her soft curves. A wonderful rush made her head swim from the contact. His breath warmed her forehead, sending a completely different kind of heat coursing through her.
So distracted was she that she barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching and passing by the tree they hid behind. Several moments after they had gone, Sean took her hand and started through the forest at a brisk walk. Soon he led them out of the bushes where they could move faster and still remain relatively quiet. They all but jogged through the trees. Even in the fading light, Ashlinn could see the pinched look on Sean’s face and knew he had to be in terrible pain.
Again she heard voices, but this time they were too far away to make out any words. Sean kept up their hurried pace until her breath came in gasps that burned her throat. Finally, she reached out and touched his arm. Her other hand hovered over her heaving chest. Sean took one look at her and slowed to a walk. Though full dark had fallen, her eyes had adjusted well enough that she could see the pain etched on his face. Despite what it cost him, he hadn’t once made any sound that would indicate the agony he was in. He had slowed for her, not himself.
Almost of its own accord, Ashlinn’s hand took hold of his. Inappropriate as it was, she didn’t care. Her mother could seethe down at her from heaven all she wanted. Their lives were on the line and if they were going to die, she was bloody well going to do it helping a handsome man stay on his feet. Hard as she listened, she didn’t hear another voice. Either they had lost them, or the Reb scouts had decided to pursue them quietly. Still, she wasn’t about to let go of his hand, not with the way his fingers tightened possessively around hers. How much she liked it should have bothered her more than it did, but she’d worry about that if they survived the night.
Near her other hand Cliste trotted along, tail wagging. The hound’s relaxed demeanor soothed Ashlinn’s nerves until finally she was able to stop shaking. Each ragged breath Sean took made her concern for him grow. She moved in close to him so her mouth was next to his ear.
“We should stop and rest,” she whispered.
“Do