Sarah stroked Malcolm’s uninjured arm. He hadn’t regained consciousness since collapsing in her arms.
Dr. Hayes patted Sarah’s back. “He’ll be better off resting at home than here,” he said. The doctor had bathed and bandaged Malcolm’s wound, which had finally stopped bleeding.
“He seems to have lost a lot of blood.” Sarah frowned.
Dr. Hayes shook his head. “Yes, more than he should have with this type of wound. A few vessels were clipped, but I thought I’d never stop the bleeding. Does he bruise easily?”
“He frequently has bruises, but he’s a very physical man, doctor. Isn’t that common for someone who works with horses?”
“It’s a matter of degrees, Mrs. McClellan. I suspect his blood is thin, and he’s certainly lost quite a bit of it.” Dr. Hayes wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “What he needs is rest. Take him home, and when he rallies, try to get some soup down him.” He put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Can you and your sister carry him in a stretcher? I can’t spare anyone here.”
“Of course we can carry him.”
• • •
Malcolm didn’t remember the journey back to Caroline’s house, and he drifted in and out of consciousness for several days. It seemed that every time he woke up, Sarah was there with a spoonful of soup. By the third day, he was able to sit up and take some soup by himself. “I need to get back to my regiment,” he said to Sarah as she sat in a rocking chair, mending his uniform.
“I knew you’d say that as soon as you could talk.” She smiled at him. “But General Lee has retreated, and I’m sure you’ll hear from your superiors soon enough. They only have so many colonels to spare.”
Two more days passed, and Malcolm was able to take short walks around the house. Following one such excursion, he noticed that Sarah eyed him provocatively as he returned to bed. She set the mending on her sewing basket, got up from the rocker, and walked slowly to their bed. Sitting gently on the edge, she took Malcolm’s hand. “Before I let you go back to the saddle, I need to make sure you’re fit to ride.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Malcolm gave her an expectant grin.
Sarah crept onto the bed, and then stood, straddling Malcolm’s legs. With hands on hips, she swayed back and forth. She fisted a hunk of skirt and slowly began hiking up the calico material, revealing shapely ankles. She swished the skirt around her legs as the material inched up her calves. She teased him with her knees, first showing a glimpse, and then quickly covering them. The next time her skirts rose above her knees, she pulled higher, to her thighs.
Malcolm gasped, and she giggled.
She eased the material up her thighs, revealing a complete lack of undergarments and the lush curls hiding her treasure. Laughing, and then falling to her knees, she knee-walked to his thighs. She fiddled with the drawstring on his drawers, and then stopped. “Please tell me to stop if you’re not feeling up to this.”
“I believe you’ll find I’m quite up to it.” He glanced down at the decided tent in his pants.
She took the book from his hands and tossed it on the floor. Tugging on his drawstring, she loosed his engorged manhood and began stroking the considerable length of it with one hand while with the other, she pulled the ribbon at the neck of her gown.
“Here, let me help with that. You already have your hands full.” He separated the muslin bodice, flimsy from many washings, and traced her tender nipples with his calloused thumbs.
She closed her eyes and adjusted her hips. Placing the tip of him at her bud, she dipped him briefly inside to taste the honey of her sheath, and then withdrew him to circle the epicenter of her pleasure.
“Put me inside you,” Malcolm said, his voice rough. He moved a hand to her feminine folds and caressed her bud with his thumb.
She slipped him inside, but drew back when the depth of his thrusts became too deep. “In this position, you’re a touch too big for me.”
“You’re small inside,” Malcolm said, “and I love how tight you hold me there, but I never want to hurt you.” He gripped her hips and moved her slightly back, where he could continue to thrust without bumping the entrance to her womb. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes. “Now, no more talking.” Sarah focused on Malcolm’s lips, which were slightly parted. His blue eyes blazed as his breathing hastened to a jagged rhythm, matching his thrusts. He closed his eyes and gripped her buttocks. His arms flexed against her and his fingers dug into her flesh. When he came, the explosion of his climax sent sparks of warmth and power through Sarah’s limbs.
Malcolm pulled Sarah down to him and wrapped his arms around her. He whispered in her hair, “Sarah, Sarah. I lose myself in you.”