The front door whooshed open and shut, leaving me alone with the ever-present murmur of the sea and Fynn.
The house wasn’t often this quiet, and the more I noticed the stillness, the more the skin on the back of my neck prickled. For all I knew, there could be someone or something lingering outside our windows, or in the water far below. A creature with dark scales and fins, waiting for me to be alone so it could drag me into the sea. Surely that’s what it had wanted to do at the harbor, before I shouted and Da frightened it away.
I didn’t intend to give it a second chance. Snatching up the biscuit pan, I strode into the main room.
Fynn’s blue eyes followed my movements. His hair stuck up in the back from being pressed against the stiff horsehair cushion. And he was shirtless, his chest lightly tanned, leading to a narrow waist and the outline of bony hips.
He waited until I had placed the biscuits in front of him before saying, “What’s this? You aren’t my usual nurse.”
“How observant of you.” Averting my gaze, I picked up the fresh bandages, which were right where Mally had said they’d be. He chuckled, and I fought the urge to join in, gesturing to the biscuits instead. “Help yourself.”
“I’ve already eaten. Your mother’s kippers were excellent.” Fynn tried to push himself upright, but collapsed against the cushion. “Besides, I’d rather talk to you.”
I raised my brows. “Lucky me.” Kneeling by the sofa, I took hold of the bandages. “Don’t bother sitting up. I imagine it’ll be easier on both of us for me to change these if you stay just as you are.”
“Thanks, but there’s nothing wrong with these bandages.” Fynn peered down his torso. The cloth around his middle was mostly white, but faint patches of pink showed through where I remembered the worst of his injuries to be.
“Liar,” I murmured.
He groaned. “I miss my usual nurse. She doesn’t have such a sour disposition.”
I shifted closer for a better look and adopted a stern expression. “You need to follow Mally’s instructions, or you’ll wind up a permanent resident on our sofa with wounds that won’t close.” More pink stained the bandages that disappeared into the waistband of Da’s borrowed trousers. “You’re quite the sight.”
“As are you.” Fynn extended a hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered as he strained to reach me. Not wanting him to re-open his ghastly injuries with the effort, I leaned toward him.
“What is it?”
He brushed his thumb across my nose, gentle and unhurried. My heart skipped like I’d just sprinted up the hill to Morag’s cottage. “You have flour on your face.” His fingers swiped across my cheek in long, slow strokes where Mally had tapped me with her fingers earlier. “Is that a Manx custom, wearing your food?”
Warmth crept into my cheeks. “If you’re curious, you’ll have to stay around long enough to learn our ways.”
“I’m already learning. Just today, I learned how to use a fork.”
Unsure if he was joking, I fought the urge to giggle and set aside the clean bandages to search for the salve Mally dabbed around his wounds. “If I were you,” I added, turning my head to hide a smile, “I wouldn’t tease the lass who’s about to dress your wounds—unless you like your bandages wrapped too tightly to take a proper breath.”
Fynn cocked his head, dark hair spilling into his eyes. “Should I have let you walk around with flour on your nose, then?”
Salve in hand, I crouched by the sofa again. “Hush. This will go quicker if you don’t talk so much.”
“But I still haven’t thanked you for rescuing me.” He rested a hand on my shoulder, and I froze. “It couldn’t have been easy hauling me off the beach. You’d have had an easier time carrying a dolphin.”
I glanced at the hand on my shoulder. “It was worth the struggle.” My palms were slick. “Have you recalled what attacked you yet?”
Fynn’s brows rose. “As I told your mother and your sister earlier—no.”
“I hope you’ll keep trying, though.” Without thinking, I’d leaned closer to him. “Before you showed up, a girl drowned. And now two girls from town have gone missing. The littlest detail might help us catch the culprit before it’s me or one of my sisters that goes over the cliffs and never comes home.”
“I’ll try to remember,” he said softly. “It’s the least I can do.” He shivered suddenly from head to toe, but kept talking through his discomfort. “For my brave rescuer.”
“Thank you.” Blushing furiously, I unscrewed the jar of salve. “I should see to your bandages now, or we’ll be at this all night.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
I started removing his old bandages. Little by little, his wounds were revealed, the flesh around them deathly white from the combination of salve and wrappings. I peeled away the layer just below his waist and hesitated. Should I unfasten his pants to reach the last portion of the wrappings, or slide my hand down his stomach and remove them by feel? If I touched him below the waist, my face would glow brighter than the coals in the hearth.