Dinah winced. The rash must have reached his mouth. "We need to bring your fever down, and this will help." She set the cup down and took the bowl of water and cloth she'd been using before. "I'll put more wet cloths on you." She'd been doing this for days though, and his temperature was only rising.
She removed the rag from his brow and used it to wipe the sweat from the rest of his face. That thick beard probably held in heat. Should she consider shaving it? Pop had done that occasionally when caring for a man with a high fever. She could at least ask him. Recommend it.
"Jericho, I think we should shave your beard. It might lower your fever and will help when the rash develops."
He didn't open his eyes, but his voice came out in a rasp. "Do it."
Did that mean he wantedherto? As miserable as he probably felt, it might be dangerous for him to use a razor near his throat.
She pulled a pair of scissors, her surgical razor, and soap from her bag, then settled in to start the task.
After draping a damp cloth over his chest, she trimmed his beard with the scissors, cutting the hairs as short as she could. She'd been near him these past days, wiping the sweat from his face, helping him drink tea and broth. She still felt his presence when she came that close, her fingers more aware than they should be every time they brushed his skin.
But she had to lean in closer for this work, her hands practically stroking his face as she gathered the coarse hair. He kept his eyes closed, which helped her nerves.
Once she'd trimmed all she could, she made a lather with the soap and water and smoothed it over the short beard remaining. She didn't let herself linger on the way her hands formed to the strong line of his jaw.
Now the razor. She started by his right ear first, scraping down his face and clearing away the dark stubble. Between the lather and the hair, she could barely see the man himself, and she let herself focus on the details of her work, smoothing the razor slowly so it captured every hair the first time. Wiping away what gathered on the blade, then moving in for the next stroke.
The skin beneath the beard was pinkish, not yet tinted by long days in the sun. He would need to protect this area when he went out again.Lord, let him rise to work again soon. It seemed impossible to think that this virile man could possibly succumb to anything, even a disease as fierce as smallpox.
Once she'd finished with the jaw all the way around, she focused on the area above his lips.
Those lips.
A little red from the fever, but fuller than she would have expected. Not that she'd spent a lot of time thinking about the plumpness of this man's lips.
She moistened her own mouth, which had become far too dry. She needed to do a better job of thinking of him as a patient.
This was a medical procedure, no different than if she were splinting a broken arm on a child.
With his face completed, she had only his neck left. She tipped his chin up a little as she started again on the right side.
Just like splinting an arm.
That thinking worked for a while—until he swallowed.
The sudden dip of his laryngeal prominence—what some might call his Adam's apple—made her own belly swoop. The flexing of the muscles in his neck brought back the memory of the strength he'd showed so many times. In carrying crates, stacked three high as if they weighed nothing. In hoisting his injured brother into and out of the wagon.
In lifting the two bodies he'd helped bury in the Salish camp.
Bile churned in her belly, and she focused her thoughts in a better direction as she finished her task.Lord, heal this man. Give him strength to fight the disease. Make it move rapidly through each stage and leave him, not linger to tear down his body's ability to recover.
With the shaving done, she pulled the cloth from his brow and used it to wipe away the last of the hair and soap from his face. "There. Now you should feel a little better."
As she reached for the cup of willow tea again, his eyes opened partway, finding her. "Thank you."
She managed to meet his gaze with a smile, though she steeled herself to keep a professional distance. She couldn't let him know how intimate that task had felt.
She was a doctor. He was her patient.
No matter how she wanted to give in to these womanly feelings, she couldn't allow herself. She needed to focus all her attention on helping him recover.
CHAPTER17
"Dinah, honey. You have to get some rest."
Dinah jerked upright and blinked, scrambling to recognize where she was and what her sister was talking about.
