Eustacia quit the chamber, leaving him and Annabel alone.
Annabel held one hand under his arm while she took a cloth, dipped it in the water, and began to dab at the soot around the border of his burn.
“How did you get such a burn, if I may ask?”
“There was a fire … in the barn.”
She frowned up at him in that clever way of hers. “I know that. But how — ?”
“I herded the sheep out the back door. One ewe lamb was frightened, however, and wouldn’t come out, and so I went in to get her. Even then she wouldn’t let me lead her. I had to pick her up and carry her. On the way out, some burning thatch fell on my arm and burned away my sleeve.” He said dryly, “So you see what a hero I am.” For the second time in my life.
“Hero? I’m not familiar with this word.”
“’Tis from the Greek, a word meaning someone with great strength and courage. Someone who protects and defends.”
“Oh, yes, indeed.” She put the cloth aside and reached for the flask. “Indeed, you are a hero. I like this word hero.”
She was so beautiful and seemed so unaware of it. The wisps of blonde hair danced around her pink-tinted cheeks just as he had captured them in his painting. But even more devastating than her physical beauty were the glimpses he had seen of her heart and soul.
God help him.
“So what did you do? How did you put out the fire on your arm?”
He stretched out his right hand, palm up.
She gasped. “Oh, my lord, you should have told me.” Before he knew what she was about to do, she took his unmangled hand and plunged it into the bucket of clean water. She stuck her other hand in and began to rub his palm to clean it, since it was black with soot and ashes. The hand was not badly burned, and he struggled to steel himself against the sensations spreading through him from her massaging fingers.
She pulled his hand out. “No blisters. That is good.” Then she began dabbing it dry with a clean cloth.
She turned her attention back to his badly burned arm. She picked up the flask and poured honey over the blisters. The thick, golden liquid felt cool and soothing, sending a chill up his arm and across his shoulders.
“How did the fire start?” she said.
“I don’t know, but our entire barley and oat crop is gone, I’m sorry to say. It is a tragedy, especially because of the severity of this drought. By God’s grace we still have the wheat supply in the smaller barn.” The wheat by rights belonged exclusively to him, but he couldn’t let the villagers starve. He resolved to buy enough barley and oats to last the village through the winter.
A worried furrow creased her brow. “Surely no one would have deliberately set the fire.” She took his hand and poured honey over his palm, rubbing it in with her finger.
He pulled his hand away. She looked up in surprise.
He shook his head. “That isn’t necessary. The hand isn’t badly burned.”
Annabel stared at him a moment. “I’m sorry. Let me clean it off.” She picked up the wet cloth, but he took it from her.
“I can do it.”
“Of course.”
After he finished, she began loosely wrapping his blistered forearm with a strip of cloth.
The pain seemed to intensify as she did so. “It is a severe burn, my lord. You must allow either me or Mistress Eustacia to inspect it every day and continue applying the honey.”
She took another cloth and wet it in the bucket. Then she leaned forward and wiped his forehead.
Surprised by the action, he started back and examined her face. He could see from her expression that wiping his face did not embarrass her.
Because she feels nothing for me, nothing a sister wouldn’t feel for a brother, or a servant for her lord. She reached out to wipe his right cheek, but he took the cloth from her and wiped his own face.
For a few moments — when she said she’d been searching for him — he’d wondered if her feelings for him were deeper, more tender than was appropriate. But no. She felt only the natural compassion and concern she would have felt for an animal — the same emotion he’d felt for the sheep in the barn.
“I’ll get you something for the pain. I believe I have some chamomile in the bag I brought from home.”
“Nay. Pray have someone fetch another bucket of water. That is all I require.” Dawn was beginning to show a gray glow at the windows.
She held his gaze for a moment then curtsied. “Yes, my lord.”
As he watched her leave, the pain in his arm seemed to spread all through him, giving him a headache. The pain was intense, but as he closed his eyes, he couldn’t stop remembering the sweetness of her expression, the kindness of her words and actions … the gentleness of her touch.
His chest constricted painfully. He was a fool.