Ah, yes, his speech was indeed that of a refined gentleman.
“Looking uncivilized isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Daisy said, keeping her voice light. “Rather dashing, if I say so myself.”
He propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand while he studied her. “Shall I leave it, then?”
Her breath caught. Green eyes would forever be her favorite—especially his shade, the color of a lush forest, spring green. Alastair’s eyes had always held a light, a quiet hope that danced beneath the surface.
That same light flickered now. And, inexplicably, it lifted her spirits.
“Absolutely not. I want to see your face.” The words left her lips before she had a chance to soften them. But it was true—she needed to know for certain. She needed the truth. “And lucky for you, I just finished a batch of my gentleman’s soap this morning.”
His lips quirked. “How is it different from a lady’s soap?”
Ah. This was a subject she could discuss with ease.
“I make it with a higher fat content—vegetable fat—to create a thick barrier between the blade and your skin. And I use earthier scents.” She turned to the cupboard and withdrew a wrapped bar. “Cedar, rosewood, orange, bergamot, clove, saffron, cinnamon… leather.”
His brow lifted. “Leather? How does one make soap smell like leather?”
She smiled at his curiosity. “By using warm spices—ones with animal notes.”
He held up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s for your customers. You shouldn’t waste any on me.”
She scoffed, placing the cake of soap into his palm anyway. “It’s not a waste. I’ll consider it research, so I can see how well it works on such a thick beard as yours.”
She was also curious to know the effect of the cedar and rosewood oils with his personal fragrance.
Because scents were different on different people. And she might just have had him in mind while putting this blend together.
Not him.Alastair.
She swallowed and glanced around the room, looking for a distraction.
“I have a small looking glass, but that’s in my bedchamber—” She cleared her throat and pressed on. “Why don’t you allow me to do it this time? I believe I’ve seen enough blood this week to last a lifetime…”
The words were meant as a half-joke, but his expression sobered. “Was it that bad?”
Her fingers clenched around the soap, nearly losing her grip.
Because yes, it had been bad.
She nodded, unwilling to lie. “Even after I got the bleeding to stop, a few of the wounds festered. I was terrified you were going to die.”
He watched her for a moment, his gaze unreadable. “I was a stranger to you.”
“You are a human being.” Her voice wavered despite herself.
He exhaled.
Then, softly, “In that case, I would appreciate your help, very much.”
Before she could respond, he moved—rising from the stool,carefully placing the soap onto the counter, then pouring water into a small basin.
And then, he reached for her.
His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and firm, a steady contrast to the tremor she could feel in her own hands. He didn’t say anything—just held them. A moment of quiet acknowledgment. A thank you without words.
She could pull away.
