Caring for Citrine (The Red Petticoat Saloon) by Alta Hensley

Author:Alta Hensley [Hensley, Alta]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Blushing Books Publications
Published: 2016-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

As soon as Anson closed the door behind them, stepping out into the morning sun, he reached for her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. She could feel the heat of his skin penetrating through the cotton of his shirt. The simple contact sent a tingle from her palm to the center of her core. Not only could she feel him, she could smell him. The scent of a doctor: clean, crisp, fresh. She could see him in the corner of her eye, resisting the urge to stare at him full on. The outline of his jaw pulled her in as she followed the line and made her way to his lips. His lips that only a few hours before were pressed to hers. She remembered the taste; licking her lips, she attempted to find any lasting remnant of the kiss from last night. All her senses were on high alert being so close to him. The power, the connection—all of it engulfed Della as she struggled to walk casually next to a man who effortlessly took her breath away far worse than any cough she’d ever had.

They walked through town in silence, but Della could almost swear she heard both their hearts beat with the same staccato rhythm as their footsteps. She didn’t experience things of this nature with men. Simple. Innocent. Pure of intention. For the first time in her life, she truly felt like a lady. A dignified, respected and sought after lady. Wouldn’t her mother be proud? Della—the town whore—being escorted and possibly courted by the distinguished and respected town doctor.

“You look lovely today,” Anson said, not much louder than a whisper. “I can see the color of health on your soft complexion.” He smiled but continued to stare ahead, leading her toward the woods. “It’s nice to see.”

“Thank you. I actually can’t remember the last time I have felt so well. My chest feels lighter, not so muddled.”

“Well I think we can rule out consumption, which is good news. I think at times your airway closes up due to illness, or conditions such as dust or pollen. Everything stems from your lungs. I do think your condition is chronic yet treatable.” He paused and looked down into her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’m sounding like a doctor. Maybe this is all very boring to you.”

Della shook her head. “Oh no, I find it fascinating. I’ve always wondered what is wrong with me. I’ve been thought of as sickly all my life.” She took a big breath in and let it out slowly, loving the fact that her chest never rumbled once. “I rarely get to feel this way. To breathe. To really breathe. My pa always hated my mother for giving him a sickly child. He blamed her for what was wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Della. Nothing at all.” He pulled her hand off of the crook of his arm and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

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