Chapter Three

Cory had her back to the corner and realized too late Tyler had maneuvered his way to block her escape in either direction. She was trapped. As she debated her next move, Tyler reached for the pistol. She backed away, and her finger jerked against the metal trigger. The hammer slammed against the cap, which sparked and ignited the powder packed in the barrel. The lead ball discharged in a loud blast. Tyler collapsed backwards and lay sprawled out on the parlor floor rug.

“Julius Caesar!” Cory screamed her father’s favorite oath. She studied the weapon and dropped the pistol on the table. She moved toward Tyler, a dark shadow on the floor and waved the candle over him. Cory fell to her knees beside his motionless body. “Tyler!” She didn’t question how she remembered his name but repeated it several times before he responded.

His long, dark lashes fluttered open. “You shot me.”

Cory laid the candlestick on the floor and watched the crème-colored linen of his jacket change to red beneath his left armpit. She tore open his coat and stared at the puddle of blood seeping through the embroidered vest.

“It was an accident. How did I know the gun would go off?”

She needed to control her growing hysterics. What had her father done the last time she helped him take care of a gunshot victim? Unfortunately, whatever he had done, hadn’t worked. The man had died.

“Didn’t you know it was loaded?” Tyler tried to sit, but Cory shoved him down.

“Lie still!” She leaned over him to view the damage.

Tyler froze.

“Of course it was loaded. Adelaide said it was loaded.” She moved the candle closer to illuminate her view.

Tyler groaned.

“Don’t die on me!”

Tyler swallowed. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

Cory puzzled over his words. “You must be delirious.”

Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned his vest and undid his shirt. Tyler wore no second shirt under his white cotton one. That’s how he managed the heat. Cory pushed away his clothing. He had no hair on his sculptured chest, and she only had a minute to marvel at the firm musculature before peeling the ruined fabric from the wound on his side.

Tyler stared at her chest. “You have luscious breasts.”

Cory examined her décolletage. She was spilling out of her gown. She’d worn this dress for Douglas. “They’re not yours.”

“I’m only looking.”

Cory tugged on her gown to assure her nipples were covered. She lifted her skirt and tore a strip of material from her petticoat. She folded it into a pad.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making a bandage. You’re bleeding.”

“I am?” He raised his head to see.

She pointed her finger in his face. “Don’t move.” She shoved his clothing aside and applied the folded cloth. It soaked up the blood. She lifted her skirt and tore more strips from her petticoat.

“I’m getting seasick.”

Cory paused. “Are you dizzy?”

“I’m mesmerized. It’s like watching waves ebb and flow. How do you keep from spilling out?”

The man was obsessed with her breasts. Idiot. “I’m trying to save your life.”

He gazed into her eyes. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“My father is a doctor. I’ve often helped him with patients.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You shoot them so he can charge to doctor them?”

Cory gasped. “I find your tone insulting. I’ve never shot anyone in my life.”

He grinned. “So this was beginner’s luck.”

Cory disregarded his remark and folded another cloth strip into a pad. She pressed it on top of the soiled bandage. She had no way to secure it unless she wrapped another strip around his chest. “I have to undress you.”

Tyler grinned wider. “I don’t mind.”

Cory tugged on the sleeve of his coat, but it didn’t budge. She straddled his body, cursing the starched crinoline beneath her skirt as it flew up behind her like a bell tolling the hour.

“Can you sit?” She leaned forward and put her right hand beneath the wound and the other on his opposite side. No force on her part would have raised him, but he suddenly sat upright. He caught her with his right arm when she collapsed against his chest and rested on his lap.

“Cozy.”

“Be still.” Cory brushed back a loose curl shaken loose from her chignon. She rolled forward to her knees and pulled his coat sleeve off his right arm. She reached around his neck with her other arm to move it to the opposite side and tugged it off his left arm. Her face was inches from his as she repeated the motion with his vest. Tyler hadn’t budged. “You could help.”

Beads of perspiration glistened on his brow, and his voice was husky. “You said to be still.”

So she had. Less gently she yanked his suspender straps down and undid his tie before she tugged his shirt free from his trousers and moved it around his massive back and around to the left side. His shirt stuck to the bandage and both came off. The wound burst into a fresh flow down his side.

Cory shrieked and pressed the saturated bandage against the wound. “I hope this isn’t a new shirt.” She wadded it over the wound to help squelch the flow. “Hold this here.” She placed his right hand over the makeshift bandage. She shoved off his rock-hard body and stood.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to fetch some alcohol.”

“I don’t imbibe,” he confessed, “but I could start.”

She paused in the dining room opening. “It’s not to drink. It’s to clean the wound.”

Cory returned with a bottle of corn liquor one of the neighbors had brewed. Adelaide said Hiram had bought it for his rheumatism and other medicinal purposes. Cory uncorked it and knew from the smell it would do the job. Her father was always reading about new medical discoveries and insisted upon cleanliness. Soap and water, alcohol, and even fire could prevent a wound from turning poisonous or gangrene. She had to help with the amputation of a foot once. The memory made her shudder.

Cory put the jug on the table in front of the fireplace, took some wooden matches from the mantel, and lit two candles on the table. “Stay there,” Cory ordered when Tyler moved. She carried a candle and the jug to him. “Roll over on your good side.”

Cory fetched the other candle and arranged them so she could see the wound clearly.

Tyler had his back to her, but she turned away to raise her skirt. She untied the annoying crinoline that kept popping up and exposing her drawers and stockings. She removed what remained of her torn petticoat and tore a few more strips. She arranged the folded pads of fabric near one of the candles.

Tyler looked almost comfortable stretched out on the braided rug. His right arm was cocked under his head, and his left held the bandage in place.

“Move your hand.” Cory touched his shoulder. “So I can examine the wound.”

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Cory didn’t know whether to take him seriously. He had such a boyish charm about him that she wanted to give him a reassuring hug. Then she saw the wide grin on his face and knew he was teasing. She lifted the wadded shirt and bandage, expecting a gush of blood, but the flow had slowed. She carefully cleaned the wound. Tyler cried out.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s cold.” Tyler unclenched his teeth. “How bad is it?”

Luckily, the ball had gone through the muscle on the edge of his ribs below his armpit and was lodged in the parlor wall. “It went clean through.”

She placed a thick square of cotton on the long slice the ball had cut in his otherwise flawless flesh. “I think I did more damage to Miss Adelaide’s plaster than you.”

She positioned a longer strip over the bandage to keep it in place. “I need you to sit and hold this until I tie it off.”

He pushed into a sitting position, his muscles rippling with the movement in the flickering candlelight. Cory forgot what she was doing. Tyler raised his arms, his muscles bulging with the flex. “Can you get around?”

Cory stared at his arms, amazed by the size and strength.

His deep masculine voice startled her. “My chest,” he reminded her. “Aren’t you going to wrap the bandage around my chest?”

She did a mental slap to break whatever spell left her unfocused and stretched the bandage around his body, tying off the ends near the wound.

“I heard a shot,” Adelaide called from the top of the staircase. “What happened, Cory?”

“I accidentally shot a man!” Cory checked the knot she had tied.

“Are you sure it was an accident?” Tyler asked.

Cory, who was on her knees, leaned back to get a clear view of the man who had accused her. “Of course it was an accident. If you hadn’t reached for my arm, the gun wouldn’t have gone off.” She corked the jug and returned it to the pantry.

When she returned, Tyler stood near the wall with a letter opener in his hand and a candle in the other.

“What are you doing?” She blew out the other candles and returned them to the table before the fireplace. She gathered the clothing from the floor and joined him by the wall.

“I found the lead slug.” He pried it from the wall. “Evidence if I choose to press charges.” He had pulled his suspenders up, and the vertical lines only emphasized the width of his shoulders and chest.

Cory chewed on her bottom lip, wondering what the penalty was for shooting a man. She held out her hand. “Let me have it.”

“It’s my souvenir.” He shoved the ball into his trouser pocket. “I’ll think of you whenever I look at it.”

“It belongs to me.”

He looked at his pocket and then her. “Then take it.”

Cory reached for the opening of his pocket and hesitated. Her mother had warned her never to touch a man below the waist and above the knees, and she didn’t take her mother’s warnings lightly. Her face grew warm, and she withdrew her hand.

He chuckled softly.

“Do you think he’s going to die?” Adelaide was slowly descending the staircase.

Cory scowled at Tyler. “I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky.”

He looked shocked. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about a guest.”

“You are not a guest!”

“I am now.” He examined the bandage around his chest. “You don’t expect me to walk all the way to the inn in my condition. Do you want my death on your conscience?”

“You won’t die,” she reassured him and herself. “The ball barely grazed you.”

“I’ve lost a great deal of blood.” He staggered a few steps and reached for her with his right hand.

Cory stepped away, but his arm wrapped around her shoulders like a massive yoke.

“I feel faint. I think I should lie down.” The candle in his other hand shook.

Cory adjusted her load of clothing and took the candle as they headed for the foyer.

Adelaide, wearing a robe and knitted slippers, had reached the bottom of the stairs. “What are you going to do with him?”

Cory debated. She wanted to throw out the slave owner, but she had wounded the man. She had an obligation to ensure he didn’t suffer any ill effects from her carelessness. She sighed. “I guess we’ll have to take care of him until he’s healed.”

“That is kind of you.” Tyler took an unsteady step toward the staircase.

“You can stay in the barn.” Cory turned him toward the hallway.

“No, he cannot,” Adelaide said. “He can stay in the bedroom at the head of the stairs next to yours.”

Cory couldn’t have heard correctly. A man did not sleep under the same roof as an unmarried woman unless unavoidable. “That’s highly improper.” She lowered her voice. “We don’t even know him.”

“There’s a lock on the door.” Adelaide turned and headed upstairs.

Cory was not appeased. “On the inside.”

“That is reassuring,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to worry about you coming into my room in the middle of the night and trying to do me harm. After all, you did shoot me.”

Cory looked at the steep incline. Her voice was thick with false concern. “Do you think you can make it all the way upstairs?”

“With your help, I think I can manage.”

****

Tyler’s hand brushed perilously close to Cory’s breast as she climbed the steps with him saddled to her slim frame.

Each movement caused an equal and opposite reaction above the barrier of her gown. Tyler was mesmerized by the firmness and suppleness of her anatomy. Nothing else existed. The only thing that mattered was the rhythm of two mounds of flesh playing a seductive dance before his spellbound eyes.

Tyler regretted wasting all his time attending school and studying law. If he could get past the girl’s prickly nature, he might enjoy his temporary stay. He’d always imagined his life as a confident womanizer, a man of the world, but his Quaker upbringing and strict school masters had held a tight rein on any worldly experiences. He was hoping to change his Puritan lifestyle.

Adelaide had opened the door to the spare bedroom on the back southeast side of the house. A nightstand with a pitcher and washbowl was near the door. A chest of drawers stood opposite the bed, and a secretary was nestled in the corner along with a small storage chest. Adelaide turned down the coverlet and moved out of the way. Tyler plopped down on the edge of the bed, dragging Cory with him. She scrambled out from under his hold and joined Adelaide by the door.

Tyler wasn’t ready to part company. “I need some help with my boots and trousers.”

Cory turned to Adelaide.

“Don’t look at me.” Adelaide hurried out the door. “I’ve only seen one man naked in my entire life, and I have no intention of making it two. Besides, you’ve probably seen plenty of naked men helping your father.”

“Miss Adelaide!”

Tyler heard a door close down the hall. How convenient for Adelaide to leave him alone with his prey.

Cory stomped across the room. “How dare she!”

“What has she done?”

Cory dropped the pile of clothing on the end of the bed. “Left me alone with you.”

“Does that cause a problem?”

“Are you married, Mr. Montgomery?”

He was amused by her switch to formally addressing him. “No, are you, Cory dear?”

She bristled. “No. That’s why we need a chaperone.”

He winked. “I won’t tell anyone we were alone if you don’t.”

Cory shook her head. “It does seem rather silly. After all, you’re wounded. You couldn’t do anything improper even if you wanted to.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. The wound throbbed no more than a headache. The rest of his anatomy was functioning in full force.

When Cory lit the oil lamp on the secretary, he could see her more clearly. She was young but had a woman’s figure. Without the crinoline and petticoat, he could see her natural shape. His hand itched to explore the curves that flowed gracefully in seductive lines. He admired a comely woman, but Cory had ignited a hot desire he’d never experienced. He wanted her like food, water, and sleep. But he was disciplined. He could wait for her to come to him.