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another look at him. His expression had softened. “I’m so used to removing…I mean, I’m used to assisting—”
    “I know. I’m sorry,” he said, smiling at her. “But your ingenuous curiosity is more than a saint could resist.” He released her hands slowly, as if with great reluctance, and whispered, “Turn around.”
    Trembling, she nodded and gave him her back.
    The rustle of cloth teased her ears. She bit her lip and struggled to keep her eyes on the floor.
    A soft thud and a groan had her spinning around.
    He stood awkwardly on his injured leg, shirtless, fighting to stay on his feet.
    “John?” She’d seen many men without a scrap of clothing on, but those were always soldiers closer to death than life. Never had she seen a man this healthy with so little on. “Dizzy?”
    “I’m fine.” Powerful muscles rippled under his skin as he steadied himself. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. The hair on his chest arrowed down toward the edge of his home-knit breeches, which covered a surprisingly small amount of him. She imagined him removing the last of his clothing, but the dance of muscle suddenly ceased.
    His expression held her immobile.
    Need was stamped across his features, his gaze so intense she thought her clothes might catch fire. His hands clenched so hard his knuckles were white.
    Maria was consumed with heat. So much heat she couldn’t seem to make her lungs work.
    She wanted what she couldn’t have. Him. Wanted his arms around her, supporting her through the horror of the war.
    But she was a simple nurse from an impoverished family, while he was an officer and a gentleman. No matter what he said or how he felt at this moment, he was who he was and so was she.
    Breathing hurt and pain spread outward, turning every beat of her heart into an eternity of torture.
    She could never have him.
    Never.
    Maria spun around, squeezing her eyes shut. John must think her brazen, wanton even, for staring at him so. But the urge to turn and look again at his handsome, hewn body set her hands to trembling. The thunder of her pulse drowned out all other sound, until it was all she knew.
    Finally, after an age, she heard the rustle of cloth and whispered, “I thought you’d hurt yourself. I didn’t mean to…stare. I’m sorry.”
    “I’m not. I’m glad.”
    She sucked in a shocked breath, surprised to hear her own words repeated back to her. “Oh.”
    He chuckled. “You are the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”
    “Me? I’m as bland as potato pie.” It was nothing less than the truth.
    “My dear girl, bland is one word I will never use where you’re concerned.” He cleared his throat. “Do you have another bandage?”
    “Yes, of course.” She pulled the last one out of her pocket. When she turned, John was finishing buttoning up a clean chestnut-coloured shirt. He also had his good leg in a clean pair of trousers.
    “Let me check the bandage to make sure it’s secure.”
    Maria rewrapped the wound and made sure to tie the bandage securely so it would stay in place should he have to run. “Is this too tight?” She glanced up at him from her position at his feet.
    His eyes narrowed on her like a hawk sighting prey, and she found she couldn’t move.
    “Did I hurt you?”
    After a moment he shook his head. “No, no I’m fine. The bandage feels relatively…” His face flushed and his hands clenched around the material he held with white knuckles. “…comfortable.”
    She scrambled to her feet and put her hands to his cheeks, searching for signs of an elevated temperature. “No fever.”
    He covered her hands and his gaze burned her with its heat, with needs she was afraid to admit she understood. “No?” He didn’t smile, rather he looked both hungry and kind at the same time.
    “I—” The rest of the sentence failed her. What could she tell him? That she wanted to pretend they were the only two people in the world, so she could ask him to hold her without fear of