28. The Last Waltz
Twenty Eight
The Last Waltz
L ate afternoon light filtered through the curtains of Mr. Moore’s chamber as Gina sat propped against the headboard of her bed, wearing only a loose linen shirt and comfortable trousers—no binding, no masculine attire, just herself.
The shirt had been pulled off her injured shoulder entirely, leaving that arm bare to allow access to the wound.
The fabric draped across her chest and covered her other arm, but the arrangement left one breast partially exposed where the linen fell away.
Kate sat on the edge of the bed beside her, a basin of clean water on the nightstand and fresh bandages laid out in preparation. Her fingers worked carefully at the knot holding the old dressing in place, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.
She kept her eyes fixed determinedly on the bandage. On the task at hand. On the wound that needed tending.
Or so she was trying.
Because, no matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept slipping.
Darting to where the shirt had fallen away, to the soft curve of breast left partially bare, which was even worse than the full image of it, before she caught herself and forced her attention back to the bloody dressing.
Heat crept up her neck though, setting her cheeks ablaze despite her best efforts to maintain a strictly professional and distant demeanor.
This was medical necessity. Any other distraction was entirely inappropriate.
But her eyes betrayed her again, just enough to see Gina’s chest rise and fall before she jerked her gaze away.
Gina suppressed a smile at Kate’s visible struggle. Her eyes held a glimmer of amusement that only made Kate’s cheeks burn hotter.
“The wound is on my shoulder,” she said softly, her voice carrying just a hint of teasing. “Not lower.”
Kate’s fingers stilled on the knot. “I’m aware of where the wound is, thank you.”
“Are you?” Gina smiled then. “Your eyes seem uncertain.”
Kate’s cheeks flushed even more, turning a deep red. She focused intently on the bandage this time, refusing to look at her at all. “If you’re quite finished mocking me,” she said, her voice carrying more primness than she felt, “I need to change this dressing before it becomes infected.”
“I wasn’t mocking—”
“Tell me if this hurts,” Kate interrupted, beginning to unwrap the soiled bandage carefully.
“It’s fine,” Gina assured her, though her breath caught slightly as the fabric pulled away from the wound. A wince flickered across her features before she controlled it.
Kate noticed immediately, her hands stilling again. “I’m hurting you.”
“No. It’s just tender. Keep going.”
Kate smiled at her, “You’re stubborn, my lady,” she said with a playful tone, but resumed her work though, peeling away the layers of cloth until the wound was fully revealed—a long furrow across the outer edge of Gina’s shoulder, where the bullet had pierced the skin and part of the muscle.
It was healing cleanly, no signs of infection, but the angry red line was still stark against pale skin.
Kate sighed at the sight of it.
“It could have been so much worse,” she said, reaching for the clean cloth she’d prepared. She dipped it in the water, wrung it out, and began to gently clean around the wound.
Gina watched her face intently as she worked, the serious expression, the slight bite of her lower lip that meant she was concentrating, the tenderness in every movement.
Even performing this mundane task, Kate was so beautiful.
Especially performing this mundane task, because it spoke of care and intimacy that went beyond desire.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” Kate said without looking up from her work. “I can feel you staring.”
“I’m watching you take care of me. I’m allowed to stare.”
Kate let out a giggle while shaking her head from side to side, but then her expression grew serious once more. “This shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have been hurt at all.”
“A graze is nothing. Perry said it himself—superficial. I’ll have a scar, but that’s all.”
“A scar from a bullet.” Kate replied as she cleaned the last of the dried blood from Gina’s skin. “A bullet that was meant to kill you.”
“But didn’t.”
“But could have.” Kate set down the cloth and reached for the jar of salve the doctor had left. She dipped her fingers in the ointment and began applying it with gentle strokes. “If his aim had been better. If you’d moved wrong. If—”
“Kate.” Gina caught her wrist gently, stopping her. “I’m here. I’m fine.”
Kate’s eyes lifted to meet hers, and Gina saw the tears swimming there.
“I’ve never been so terrified,” Kate said at last. “Watching you stand there, knowing a bullet could—could end everything. Could take you away from me before we’d even really begun.
” A tear spilled over, tracking down her cheek.
“I watched the two of you turn. Watched the pistols rise. And I couldn’t do anything but watch and pray and—”
Gina pulled her close carefully, mindful of her injured shoulder but needing Kate against her.
Kate came willingly, burying her face in the curve of Gina’s neck and staying there.
She felt so safe in her arms. In her wife’s arms.
“I’m here,” Gina murmured, her uninjured arm wrapping around Kate’s waist, holding her securely. “I’m right here. I came back to you, just like I promised.”
“You could have died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I know,” Kate pulled back enough to look at her face. “But in that moment, every possible outcome terrified me. Death, discovery, loss—all of it.”
Gina lifted her hand to cup Kate’s face, her thumb brushing away more tears. “I know. I was terrified too. Not of Ramsay, not really. But of failing you. Of not coming back. Of all the promises I wouldn’t be able to keep.”
Kate’s hand came up to cover Gina’s where it rested against her cheek. “You kept them all. You won. You survived. You’re here.”
“I’m here,” Gina confirmed. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Their foreheads touched and stayed like that for a long moment, breathing each other’s air.
Until Kate’s lips met Gina’s in a kiss that was meant to be just a tender and delicate touch, a soft pressure against her mouth.
But it deepened slowly, bit by bit, Kate’s lips took Gina’s with increasing intensity that soon made them both forget the wound, the pain, the ointment and everything else.
“Ouch,” Gina winced as Kate unconsciously pressed her wounded shoulder.
Kate pulled back quickly. “Oh God, I’m sorry—I forgot—”
“It’s all right,” Gina said through a tight breath, managing a small smile despite the throb in her shoulder.
“No, it’s not.” Kate wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m getting tears all over your clean bandages and now hurting you on top of it.”
“I don’t care about the bandages.”
“Well, I do. The wound needs to be properly dressed.” Kate reached for the fresh bandaging, her hands steadier now. “Hold still.”
Gina obeyed, watching her again as she worked. She’d learned quickly over the past few days—how to clean the wound, how to apply the salve, how to wrap the bandage snugly enough to protect but not so tight as to restrict movement.
“You’re getting good at this,” she commented.
“I’ve had to be. You won’t let Mary help anymore.”
“I don’t need Mary’s help when I have you.”
Kate’s hands paused in their work, her eyes lifting to meet Gina’s one more time. “Is that wise? Mary has years of experience helping you. I’m just—”
“…the person I want touching me. The only person I want seeing me like this.” Gina’s voice was quiet but certain. “Mary served her purpose for ten years. But now I have you.”
Kate side-smiled at her. She finished securing the bandage, tucking the end in neatly, then let her fingers trail down Gina’s arm in a gentle caress. “How does it feel?”
“Perfect. You did perfectly.”
“Good.” Kate began gathering the soiled bandages, placing them in the basin to be dealt with later. “Because you’ll need to be healed enough to dance in three days.”
Gina’s brows rose. “Dance?”
“The last ball of the season. Lady Rutledge’s annual affair.” She wiped her hands clean. “We received the invitation yesterday. We’re expected to attend.”
“Oh—”
“We have to go.” Kate turned to face her fully, her expression serious. “We have to show them we’re united, that the duel changed nothing. That Mr. and Mrs. Moore-Sullivan are perfectly content, perfectly proper, perfectly in love.”
Kate was already standing as she spoke, but Gina caught her wrist mid-air and tugged, pulling her back down until Kate fell nearly on top of her.
“Oh, but we are in love,” Gina said with a teasing grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Perfectly in love, even.”
Kate laughed, the sound bright and genuine, “Are we now?”
“Absolutely.” Gina’s hand went from Kate’s wrist to her waist, holding her close. “Haven’t you noticed?”
“I might have,” Kate murmured, her smile softening as she leaned in to lick Gina’s lips in a gesture too provocative for the occasion.
Gina countered by trying to bite her lips, but Kate pulled back quickly, laughing again.
“In fact…” Kate continued, leaning back to lick Gina again, this time slowly, shamelessly tasting her.
Gina stayed still this time, letting her do it, enjoying the pleasure of her tongue on her lips.
“Oh, yes, we are. Very much so,” Kate finished in a very seductive tone.
Gina grinned against her mouth. “See? Perfectly in love. We won’t even have to pretend at Lady Rutledge’s ball.”
“No pretending required. Never again.”
Their lips sought each other with more urgency then, mixing with soft moans of pleasure as their mouths moved in unison, tasting and exploring each other with increasing hunger.
When Kate finally pulled back, they both took a deep breath at the same time.
“I should go,” she said reluctantly, her forehead touching Gina’s. “Mary will be looking for me. And you need to rest.”
“I’m resting.”
“You’re trying to seduce me. Those are different things.”
Gina smiled, unrepentant. “Can’t blame me for trying.”