He wanted to comfort me, but he held back.
Claire followed Radcliffe to the first ward, wondering at his impulse and the tight control that kept him from expressing any of his deep emotions. How was he simultaneously so fond of her but so frightened of her? It must have something to do with his own background—had he gotten in some sort of trouble for falling in love with a white woman? She blinked the ache from her right eyeball and doubted he’d tell her. He was a private man. A deep man, as Patrick O’Connell had said.
He introduced her to a young man who reacted with suspicion. The soldier had been having headaches and doubled over in pain whenever he picked up a weapon. Claire understood the feeling.
“Tell me about where you’re from,” she said.
“Why?”
“I’m here to help you, as Docto
