Because of You by Cathy Maxwell Read Free Book Online

built man while he lay like dead weight was not easy, but Samantha was a strong woman in spite of her petite size. Furthermore, she was determined, and after a bit of a struggle to bend his long arms, she’d removed his coat.
    His shirt was easier. She climbed up on the bed, rested his head in her lap, and reaching down, yanked his shirt up and off. She dropped it on the floor beside the coat.
    As she’d pulled, the back of her hand had brushed his rough, whiskered jaw. There was strength in the lines of this man’s face. Character.
    “Who are you, Mr. Browne with an ‘e’?” she asked quietly. “Is there someone waiting for you? Someone wondering where you are?” She paused a moment. “You’re lucky if there is.”
    She slid out from beneath him and got up from the bed. “Now for your breeches, sir.”
    She efficiently began unbuttoning them. All of his clothes had been made of good material, although they were well worn.
    As her fingers reached the last button, and themore sensitive region of his anatomy, he moved restlessly and swatted at her hand. This was good. Any sign of life was good.
    Slipping her fingers under his waistband, she pulled his breeches down—and then froze.
    “Oh. My.” Mr. Browne was not built like other men. “Impressive” was the first word that came into her mind.
    The room became suddenly close.
    Samantha gulped for air. She shouldn’t stare.
    “Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. With a swift tug, she pulled his breeches the rest of the way down and over his feet. She tried not to peek, but it was hard because she had a powerful curiosity about all things.
    She also couldn’t help noticing Mr. Browne’s legs were very well favored. She even liked his long, strong feet.
    Dipping more rags into the basin of cold water, she laid them on Mr. Browne, starting with his private parts. He reacted when the wet cloth hit his hot skin, but didn’t push it off. Working quickly, she covered all of him.
    She then headed outside to the pump to fetch more water. The snowy air felt good on her hot cheeks.
    Mr. Porter appeared at the edge of the cemetery. “How are you doing, Miss Northrup?” he called.
    Samantha felt her heart lurch in her chest. Didher face betray her? Was it still flushed from the heat of embarrassment?
    “I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” she managed to say.
    “Good then.” He waved and walked on.
    She pumped the handle for fresh water. She should fill a second bucket, too, and dash its contents over her head for being such a ninny. She’d never blushed over naked flesh before.
    Back inside, the hambone was starting to bubble. She poured dried peas into the water, gave it a stir, and then got up and carried the bucket into the bedroom.
    Methodically she began removing the cloth rags and rewetting them with fresh cold water…over and over and over again. The fever had a terrible hold on Mr. Browne. But then, just when she wondered if she’d ever break it, the chills started.
    His body shook almost to the point of shaking the bed.
    Samantha quickly removed the cloths and reached to pull the quilt over him—except that he lay on it and she was too tired to struggle with him now. She raced to her parents’ bedroom on the other side of the kitchen for more blankets and the coal brazier. Coming through the kitchen, she heard him mumbling, the words incoherent.
    In her bedroom, she unceremoniously dumped the quilts on top of him before setting up the brazier with coal and lighting it. By thetime she’d finished, his mumbling had turned to ranting. He was shouting orders: “Kill the bloody bastards! Strike hard!” His arms and hands began flailing in the air and he kicked the covers to the floor.
    Samantha picked them up and dumped them back on him.
    “Billy!” Mr. Browne shouted, his teeth chattering. “Watch your back, Billy!” He started up from the bed, his eyes open but unseeing.
    Samantha bodily pushed him back onto the bed, no