Read Online The Officer and the Southerner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 2) by Rose Gordon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rose Gordon
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to their room then walked over to where Ella sat in a chair, his appetite completely forgotten. He sat down on the edge of the bed in front of her. “Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head once, her face still lowered and hovering over the chamberpot.
Jack removed his hat and set it down next to him, then reached forward to push her long, unpinned hair away from her eyes. “You're burning up,” he murmured. The food here was bad, but not that bad. This couldn’t have been brought on by dinner last night. “How long have you felt unwell?”
“ Since I woke up.” Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. A shiver wracked her body and the chamberpot shook. Her hands tightened their grip around the painted metal, making her knuckles and fingertips go white.
Jack reached forward and took it from her trembling hands before she dropped it and spilled its contents on them both.
Whether her trembles were a result of her illness or her undeniable embarrassment about regurgitating in front of her husband, he didn't know. Nor did he care. “Why don't you lie down and I'll go see if I can find something for your stomach?”
“ That’s all right, I don’t wish to be an inconvenience.”
He sighed. “Ella, I know we haven't exactly gotten off to the greatest start, but I want to make amends and show you that I’m not the villain or manipulator you think me to be.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, she heaved again, spewing the partially digested beefsteak from last night all over the boots he’d polished just yesterday for her impending arrival.
Swallowing the bile that was now rising in his own throat, he forced a grin. “Did that make you feel better?”
“Because it’s out of my stomach or because I think you deserved it?” she asked with a quiver of her lips.
“ Either? Both?”
She nodded once, then her face changed. Her cheeks bloated out like they were about to fill again and Jack quickly brought the chamberpot in front of her to spare himself another spraying of stomach contents.
“Thank you,” she said after she vomited again.
Jack handed her a handkerchief. “You’re welcome.” He waited while she wiped her mouth, then reached for the soiled handkerchief. “Why don’t you lie down?”
“But don’t you expect me to spend the day with the other wives cooking and—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, halting whatever other damning words she thought to throw at him. “No. I expect you to lie here and get better.” He shot her a quick grin. “That way you can recover before you cook for me. I’d hate to catch whatever you have.”
Thankfully, she finally seemed to understand his jest and gave him a weak smile. Then she allowed him to help her lie back down on the bed.
For a brief second, he considered offering to help her out of her gown or to loosen the clasps so she’d be more comfortable as she slept; but when she closed her eyes with her head against the pillow, he decided against it.
He grabbed the corner of the pale green quilt and pulled it up to her chin then pushed some of the extra around her.
“ Thank you, Jack. I’m sorry that I cannot—”
“ Shh,” he said, pressing a finger against her lips. “You don't worry about anything but getting well.” He stood and put his hat back on. “Just lie here and I'll be back shortly.”
***
Ella wanted to die.
Never in her life had she experienced such an ache in her stomach. She hadn't been feeling very well after dinner last night but chalked it up to her frayed and trampled nerves. This morning, however, she was far worse.
She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and cringed at the way her sweat had made her hand damp. Her stomach lurched and she closed her eyes in pain. That uneasy stomach of hers had lurched all day, but now there wasn't so much as a crumb still inside to be expelled. She was sure of it. Sighing, she rolled over onto her side. What must Jack
She shook her head once, her face still lowered and hovering over the chamberpot.
Jack removed his hat and set it down next to him, then reached forward to push her long, unpinned hair away from her eyes. “You're burning up,” he murmured. The food here was bad, but not that bad. This couldn’t have been brought on by dinner last night. “How long have you felt unwell?”
“ Since I woke up.” Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. A shiver wracked her body and the chamberpot shook. Her hands tightened their grip around the painted metal, making her knuckles and fingertips go white.
Jack reached forward and took it from her trembling hands before she dropped it and spilled its contents on them both.
Whether her trembles were a result of her illness or her undeniable embarrassment about regurgitating in front of her husband, he didn't know. Nor did he care. “Why don't you lie down and I'll go see if I can find something for your stomach?”
“ That’s all right, I don’t wish to be an inconvenience.”
He sighed. “Ella, I know we haven't exactly gotten off to the greatest start, but I want to make amends and show you that I’m not the villain or manipulator you think me to be.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, she heaved again, spewing the partially digested beefsteak from last night all over the boots he’d polished just yesterday for her impending arrival.
Swallowing the bile that was now rising in his own throat, he forced a grin. “Did that make you feel better?”
“Because it’s out of my stomach or because I think you deserved it?” she asked with a quiver of her lips.
“ Either? Both?”
She nodded once, then her face changed. Her cheeks bloated out like they were about to fill again and Jack quickly brought the chamberpot in front of her to spare himself another spraying of stomach contents.
“Thank you,” she said after she vomited again.
Jack handed her a handkerchief. “You’re welcome.” He waited while she wiped her mouth, then reached for the soiled handkerchief. “Why don’t you lie down?”
“But don’t you expect me to spend the day with the other wives cooking and—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, halting whatever other damning words she thought to throw at him. “No. I expect you to lie here and get better.” He shot her a quick grin. “That way you can recover before you cook for me. I’d hate to catch whatever you have.”
Thankfully, she finally seemed to understand his jest and gave him a weak smile. Then she allowed him to help her lie back down on the bed.
For a brief second, he considered offering to help her out of her gown or to loosen the clasps so she’d be more comfortable as she slept; but when she closed her eyes with her head against the pillow, he decided against it.
He grabbed the corner of the pale green quilt and pulled it up to her chin then pushed some of the extra around her.
“ Thank you, Jack. I’m sorry that I cannot—”
“ Shh,” he said, pressing a finger against her lips. “You don't worry about anything but getting well.” He stood and put his hat back on. “Just lie here and I'll be back shortly.”
***
Ella wanted to die.
Never in her life had she experienced such an ache in her stomach. She hadn't been feeling very well after dinner last night but chalked it up to her frayed and trampled nerves. This morning, however, she was far worse.
She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and cringed at the way her sweat had made her hand damp. Her stomach lurched and she closed her eyes in pain. That uneasy stomach of hers had lurched all day, but now there wasn't so much as a crumb still inside to be expelled. She was sure of it. Sighing, she rolled over onto her side. What must Jack
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