Finding Bliss (11 page)

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. I’m staying at Whisper
Chase as a guest of Lord and Lady Osterburg,” she hinted. “As an unmarried
woman, that wouldn’t be proper.”

Bliss sat impatiently waiting for the moment when
recognition sank in, when Eric would realize who she was.

He should be kissing me by now!

“I’m afraid I cannot help you, then. I do not commit
peccadilloes at work, sweetheart. I’m all for natural progression of intimacy,
but my reputation as a surgeon is more important than any scandal or improper
conduct within my public setting. I will offer you an alternative, though. Have
dinner with me,” he asked, “in my home.”

“Unmarried girls do not attend gentlemen in private homes
without proper escorts. What would my parents say?”

This comment came from out of the blue as Bliss was distracted
by a vision. The clarity so striking it made her whole body tingle. The scene
in her head was perfect. It wouldn’t be Eric kissing her. She was going to have
to kiss him.

Steeling herself to the notion, Bliss leaned to her right
ever so slightly so as not to alarm him, and took his face between her palms. With
movements so small no instrument on earth could measure them, she pulled him
toward her while staring into his smoldering eyes. Licking her lips for
moisture, Bliss planted them firmly against Eric’s waiting mouth.

Time, air, wind, the ticking of a clock outside the room,
all seemed to stop in that instant. Eric’s mouth pressed against hers for a
moment longer than she expected before he seemed to give in to the temptation
of such a willing female. He opened his lips and let his tongue come out for a
taste of her mouth.

Wetting the seam of her closed lips, Eric teased until she
opened to him. The jolt that rocked them both was better than lightning. It was
a spark of two souls colliding in a fury.

Kissing her with more energy, perhaps due to the added input
of their chemistry, Eric’s breathing became rough and tempestuous against her
cheek. Bliss angled her body upward to gain more access to him. But the change
in her body positioning broke the connection between them.

Eric, age twenty-six, Bristol, March
1811

The mornings in March were never
much of a joy for Eric. His nurse seemed to always come down with a horrible
cold as soon as the spring flowers began to pop their pretty yellow heads from
the ground.

The first sound that greeted him in the office that morning
was all the evidence he needed to know that spring had arrived. Scarlet was
sitting behind her desk, blowing her nose vehemently into the thinnest excuse
for a handkerchief he had ever seen.

“Good borning, Dr. Benchley. You habn’t got buch on your patient
list this borning, so if you’d like to take your coffee and wait in your opice
until someone arribes, I can come and get you,” Scarlet said with a stuffy
smile.

“Have you taken anything to help alleviate that head cold,
Miss Scarlet? You know it doesn’t speak highly of a surgeon if his staff is
unable to boast particularly normal health,” Eric mused with warm humor and
compassion.

“I dow, I dow, I’b sorry, sir. I always get this way
wheneber the jonquils begin to bloob. I’b only sneezing and stuffy, though. Baybe
if I just blow by dose well enough I can bask the sybptobs a little better,”
Scarlet suggested wincing.

“Never mind that. I’ll mix you some elixir. Something aromatic
to clear your sinus cavities ought to help a little. You could do with a steam,
too. Why don’t I go and get something started, and you can take a few moments
in the kitchen with the hot water kettle and a bowl and towel. I’m sure anyone
I have to see today won’t mind that my nurse is unavailable. We’ll work through
this.” Eric said with a smile.

He hurried into his office to the rear left of the room and
set his satchel down beside the desk. Walking through the rear doorway he found
his apothecary cabinet still locked tight. He fished the skeleton key from his
pocket and opened the doors to retrieve a few remedy ingredients.

A little honey and camphor with a few leaves of eucalyptus
would help to open the passages in poor Scarlet’s muddled head. He laid a few
soft muslin towels on the table and began heating a kettle full of water on the
stove. He reached above the counter near the water reserve and found one of his
rarely used blood-letting bowls. He set it on the table beside the towels.

Once the water had begun boiling, he removed the kettle from
the heat and poured a small dram into a bottle. Next he added the eucalyptus
leaves and the honey and let them steep. A small dab of camphor went in once
the water had wilted the leaves down.

Then he took a bottle from the counter with a bit of alcohol
spirits and another with simple sugar syrup adding them in equal parts to the
tonic. Corking the bottle, he upended it several times to mix the solution. He
set the bottle beside the bowl and retrieved a large spoon from the silver
drawer.

Scarlet entered just as the spoon was in place.

“Dr. Benchley, dere’s a woban in the opice who says she dows
you. She’s got no appointbent, but since we’re not busy this borning, I thought
you bight have tibe to see her,” Scarlet said, eyeing the bowl with a nervous
glance.

“Take her to the examination room and have her get ready. Then
come back here and let me prescribe your regimen,” he gave her a stern look.

Scarlet fled the scene without a backward glance. He
chuckled at her response to seeing the blooding bowl. She was a silly woman. Working
for him two years did little to convince her that he wasn’t one of the
saw-bones who believed that letting out a person’s blood did anything to
relieve their problems.

In Eric’s experience from school, the removal of vital blood
only made things worse! Scarlet returned a few minutes later and approached the
table with clear terror in her eyes.

“Sit down, Miss Scarlet.” Eric ordered.

The women sat in the chair beside the tonic, but not close
enough to the bowl to suit him. Eric shoved the China dish directly under her
chin in practiced efficiency. Without waiting for her protest, he lifted the
kettle and poured the hot water still in reserve into the bowl. Grabbing one of
the towels he flicked it out so that it was no longer neatly folded. He nodded
toward the tonic and spoon.

“Take a tablespoon of that tonic, mind you don’t get any of
the leaves, and then use this towel to tent your head over the bowl. Do not
come out from underneath the tent until the water has cooled completely. Use
the second towel to blow your nose. Repeat the steaming tent twice more and
blow your nose between each turn.

“Then you may rejoin me after another swig of tonic. I’ll be
in exam for the next fifteen minutes so anyone who comes in can either wait or
leave to find another surgeon. It won’t stop the clocks in town if they do,”
Eric told his agitated assistant.

“But, what about the young woban?”

“If she isn’t comfortable with me in the exam room, her maid
can sit in for you. Don’t worry, Scarlet, I’m a surgeon. I can do my job with
one hand tied behind my back,” he chuckled darkly before pointing at the tonic
and nodding. Scarlet gave out a reserved sigh and began uncorking the bottle as
he left the apothecary kitchen.

As Eric walked past the nurse’s
desk, he saw the maid waiting beside the door in a chair. She looked
unconcerned for her duty to the woman waiting to be examined. Eric cleared his
throat.

“Ahem, Miss? My nurse is unavailable this morning. Perhaps you
would like to come in while I meet with Miss …” he glanced down to the
appointment roster on the nurse’s desk, “Porter?”

He saw the maid give a tiny smirk, but she shook her head.

“It won’t be necessary. My lady assured me it wouldn’t be a
long visit,” the woman told him confidently. Eric shrugged and gave her a
professional smile.

“I’ll have her out as soon as I can, Miss. Please make
yourself comfortable. Oh, and if anyone should enter seeking treatment, please
have them wait. My nurse or I will be with them as soon as possible,” Eric
asked politely.

“I’ll be happy to sir,” the maid smiled politely back. Eric
turned and entered the exam room without a backward glance.

Upon entering the room, Eric gave the young woman a
professional smile and made an immediate apology.

“I hope you’ll excuse my nurse for not coming in with me. She’s
a bit under the weather herself this morning. I sent her to the kitchen for a
little tonic. If you like I can summon your maid? But I assure you that as a
surgeon there will be no impropriety to your visit,” Eric said with a sober
face.

“It won’t be necessary,” the oddly familiar voice said. The
woman let out her breath out in a small sigh the moment she finished speaking.

“I’m Doctor Benchley. I know that sounds funny, saying doctor.
But it’s on the rise among my profession to use the title more formally
nowadays. My own father was a barber-surgeon, and he used the title himself. He
was a man far beyond his years in medical practice, I assure you,” Eric let his
face relax a little at the mention of his father.

“I’m aware of that,” said the woman ambiguously. Eric had a
queer sensation that the statement held much more meaning than the words
implied.

“What seems to be your trouble today, Miss Porter?”

His lovely patient looked at him with narrowed eyes, as if
calculating her response. He didn’t acknowledge her hesitation, but instead
went right into his professional examination mode.

“Women today have so many things that cause them discomfort.
The seasonal weather of spring seems to always unleash a hearty wrath, not to
mention the styles of clothing and lack of physical exertion allowed in normal
society. I see too many young ladies who suffer the pains of fashion and
idleness,” Eric commented as he came nearer to her. He pulled the stool close
to the end of the chaise and sat down.

His business-like approach did nothing to stem an
irresistible urge he suddenly felt toward the attractive blond sitting feet
away on his examination table. It was very unprofessional to feel such stirrings
toward a person in medical need, but there was no masking his response. He
suddenly, desperately, wanted to kiss her!

“I’m in top shape,” the woman blurted out.

Eric gave her a wordless appraisal. Was she here because
she’d heard about him from one of his clients? Perhaps one of the women he’d
allowed more personal leeway to in the privacy of a home visit? He struggled to
grasp the logic behind that as he answered her declaration.

“If that is indeed the case, Miss Porter, then why have you
come for medical consultation?” Eric couldn’t resist giving her a scorching
look of intent.

The young woman began to falter helplessly in the wake of
his unveiled attraction to her.

“I, er, needed to see if, but there’s this, and you
understand it’s very important” she said without making sense.

Eric’s mouth turned up in a smile that he knew must look
positively wolfish. He studied the length of her chemise in pointed interest
for a few minutes. The slow progress of his eyes rolling over her thighs and the
obvious pause at her stockings made the woman give a quiet gasp of air, as if unable
to prevent it.

Eric’s eyes dragged upward again, and he gave her a
seductive grin of appreciation. He walked over to the table, slower than a
regular professional surgeon would ever dare. Extending a fingertip to her
collarbone, he brushed the stray curls aside with feather-light pressure. As he
looked directly into her eyes for a span of eternity, he leaned closer to her
face, veering aside just before his lips met her cheek and whispered to her.

“I don’t do this in my office. My nurse would club me over
the head for making an advance if I even thought about it. I am, however,
available for,” he paused before letting the last words hint at something less
professional, “
house-calls
. I have excellent bedside manner, you know.”

Eric let his words come out softly and seductively. The
woman, barely in her twenties if he were to guess, gave another nervous gasp
and blushed beautifully. Then she cleared her throat before speaking to him. Her
face took on a look of determined eagerness.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. I’m staying at Whisper
Chase as a guest of Lord and Lady Osterburg,” she hinted. “As an unmarried
woman, that wouldn’t be proper.”

She sat impatiently waiting as if for some stroke of recognition.
Eric realized a hint in something she said made him feel odd. Her lips were
parted as she breathed anxiously.

I could be kissing her right now
, he thought without
compunction.

Then the realization of how improper that would be seemed to
draw him up a little. He decided to be blunt.

“I’m afraid I cannot help you, then. I do not commit
peccadilloes at work, sweetheart. I’m all for natural progression of intimacy,
but my reputation as a surgeon is more important than any scandal or improper conduct
within my public setting. I will offer you an alternative, though. Have dinner
with me,” he asked, “in
my
home.”

The invitation slid out effortlessly. It actually surprised
him that he would make such a bold offer to her without knowing her better. Perhaps
he’d made a huge mistake? That
could be
causing the odd, trembling
feeling in his stomach!

“Unmarried girls do not attend gentlemen in private homes
without proper escorts. What would my parents say?”

This comment came from out of the blue as the woman appeared
momentarily distracted by a thought. The next few moments were surreal. Eric
had neither the will nor the common sense to stop what was coming.

The woman leaned to her right ever so slightly, and took his
face between her palms. With movements so small no instrument on earth could
measure them, she pulled him toward her while staring into him with smoldering
eyes. Licking her lips for moisture, he couldn’t pull away as she planted them
firmly against his own.