Temptation by Leda Swann

sentiment and did no one any good.
    She would heal where she could, and comfort where she could not heal.
    And only hope that death was merciful and passed her loved ones by.
     
     
    Percy Carterton clambered onto the deck of the ship, then turned and waved with his good arm to the few soldiers who stood on the docks. Only those in his regiment who had remained unscathed were remaining in South Africa, the rest were being sent home to England to recuperate. He was one of the lucky ones—he had walked up the gangway under his own steam, with only an arm in a sling. Most of his comrades, if he hadn’t left them buried in the dusty soil of the Transvaal, had been carried on to the ship in stretchers, groaning under the burden of shattered legs or gaping head wounds.
    He spied Teddy Clemens on the dock. The boy had Lady Luck in his corner. He’d come through their first encounter without a scratch, and was now joining another regiment that was off to keep the peace in Pretoria. The lad should be safe enough there, whatever happened in the interior.
    “Go see my sisters in London,” Teddy shouted at him above the din. He could just make out the lad’s words over the racket of the docks. “Tell them I miss them, and I’d be coming home, too, if I could.”
    Carterton waved back in acknowledgment of the boy’s request. He had every intention of fulfilling it at the earliest opportunity. Meeting Beatrice was the only good thing that had come out of this blasted war. And now he was going home to claim her.
     
     
    Beatrice sat on the rug on the grass and picked idly at the daisies. The band in the rotunda played a jolly marching tune, but her spirits did not rise to match the musicians. They remained as wet and downtrodden as the small patch of lawn on which she was perched. She still had heard nothing from Teddy and she was worn out from worrying over him.
    Dr. Hyde sat next to her on the rug, his legs stretched out in front of him, pulling uncomfortably at his goatee. His brown pants clung tightly to his thighs, and he had dispensed with formality just enough to take off his jacket and roll up his shirtsleeves. His arms were covered with fine brown hair that looked soft enough to run her fingers through.
    He caught her looking at his arms and a slight frown creased his forehead. With a deliberate motion he rolled down his sleeve and refastened the cuffs.
    Beatrice’s face blazed with a sudden heat. So what if she had been looking at his arms? It was hardly a crime. Anyone would think they were merely casual acquaintances, instead of a couple who had been walking out together for nearly a year now. She wasn’t a nun—she was planning to marry the man if he would ever get up the courage to ask her. There would be something wrong with her if she didn’t want to look at his bare skin when she had the chance.
    A shimmer of irritation with him floated down and settled on her shoulders like a dark cloud. He was not usually such a dull companion. Usually his quick wit would allow her to overlook his formal manners and his stiff-rumped propriety. But this afternoon he was so ill at ease that his sharp brain seemed to have turned quite to mush.
    Sometimes, when his humor was especially entertaining, she was almost sure that she was on the way to falling in love with him. This afternoon, however, she wasn’t sure that she even liked him. It was an uncomfortable way for a woman to feel about her prospective husband.
    Dr. Hyde pulled at his goatee again, until Beatrice wanted to slap his fingers away. How could a respectable doctor have such irritating personal habits? He would pull out all the hairs until he had none left, and his goatee was ridiculously sparse to start with. If she were ever to marry him, she would insist that he shave it off. Before their wedding night.
    If she were ever to marry him? She gave an inelegant snort that caused him to look at her as if she had just sicked up something nasty in the presence of the