“Here’s the Bible, the Latin one.” He picked up the large book that lay on the bench and held it reverently.
Evangeline gazed into his eyes. Could he see how grateful she was that he was being so kind to her when she was only a servant girl? How grateful she was for his sharing his family’s precious Bible with her? How would he know if she did not speak?
“Sit down, wherever you will be most comfortable, and I’ll give you the Bible. It’s very heavy.”
Evangeline chose a cushion on the ground. Look at me now, King Richard. Your ward, your pawn, is sitting on the ground about to read the Bible.
Westley bent and laid the book in her lap. “I also brought these.” He picked up a wax board and a stick about five inches long and held them out to her as he knelt beside her.
Evangeline’s breath caught in her throat. She had used a wax board when her tutors had taught her to read and write as a child. She took the instruments and immediately wrote in the wax on the small board.
“I am so grateful to you,” she wrote. She winced, as the action of writing rubbed against her open blisters on the inside of her thumb. But the pain was nothing compared to the joy of “speaking” with Westley.
“Now, which book of the Bible would you like to read first?”
She held the stick a little awkwardly to try to inflict as little pain as possible on herself. “I have read the Psalms already,” she wrote.
Suddenly Westley caught her hand and flipped it palm up.
“How did this happen?” He grabbed her other hand, forcing her to drop the wax tablet into her lap. That hand was equally damaged, her pale, delicate skin red and oozing in several places.
Her cheeks grew warm as he continued to stare at her hands.
“Eva.” His voice was breathless as he said her name, making her stomach tumble as he looked into her eyes.
She pulled her hands out of his loose grip and held them close to her chest, hiding her palms.
“Who made you work this hard on your first full day? I shall have them sent away for this.”
Evangeline shook her head vehemently. She grabbed the wax tablet and stylus and wrote, “Please, no. It was my fault. They did not know I had not done this kind of work before.” Was she revealing too much?
Westley handed her another wax tablet, as she had run out of room.
“I could have asked Golda to give me another task. It is all right. Please do not punish her.”
He closed his eyes for several moments before opening them, then stood. “Stay here. I shall return.”
What was he about to do? Would he bring Golda here and force a confrontation? Her heart pounded. After what she did to the reeve, if she caused their cook to be sent away, everyone would hate her even more than they already did. Should she run after him? What if she couldn’t find him and Lord or Lady le Wyse found her wandering around their home?
She had to make him see that it was her fault and the cook was not to blame. If she had to, she would beg him not to punish Golda.
Westley suddenly returned and knelt beside her, holding a small pot, such as one might use for perfume or salve, and in the other hand he held a roll of bandages.
“Give me your hands.”
She held them out, and he dipped a finger in the small pottery container.
“This is a healing salve my mother makes for scrapes and minor cuts. It will keep your open blisters from becoming septic.” His voice was grim, but his expression softened when he touched her hand, then proceeded to smear the thick, golden salve on her wounds.
“Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head.
“I wish someone had been looking out for you,” he said softly.
Her heart trembled. She’d never known a man could be so kind and tender, so compassionate and gentle, and yet so masculine and appealing. His touch sent warmth and pleasant sensations all through her.
Surely if God loved her, He would let her marry this man.
Chapter Nine
Westley’s heart turned over at the suffering that had been inflicted on this sweet maiden. When he had mentioned sending away the person who made her work this hard, she was horrified at the thought of causing anyone to be punished. And yet her hands were actually bleeding.
He brushed on the healing salve as carefully as possible so as not to inflict any further pain on her, first on one hand and then the other.
His mother always followed any application of her healing salve on one of her children with a kiss next to the wound. What would it feel like to kiss that delicate spot on the inside of Eva’s wrist?
What was he thinking? After all the times his parents had warned him not to take advantage of female servants in any way, he should know better than to allow such a thought into his head.
When he finished applying the salve, she just sat quietly, but he was very aware of her watching him. He picked up the roll and wrapped the cloth bandage around her hand. He cut it and tied it off, then repeated for the other hand.