She smoothed the last of the salve over his shoulder, letting her fingers linger a moment longer than necessary. The urge to soothe, to comfort—and yes, to touch this man—was far too strong within her.
Finally, she made herself step back and wipe her hands on the rag. Then she reached for a bandage from the basket and unrolled a length of clean cloth. “I’m going to wrap your head, to keep the salve in place and keep the wound clean while it heals.”
He didn’t answer. He might not appreciate the attention having his head bandaged would bring, but getting dirt in the open burn would cause trouble.
She worked quickly, then tied off the cloth and shifted around to his side to check her work from that angle. It would do.
She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed, face tight against the pain.
Her chest clenched at the sight. She had to resist the urge to smooth her fingers over the furrow between his brows, to see if she could ease some of his suffering with her touch.
Instead, she spoke in a soft voice. “All done.”
His eyes opened, those deep blue depths fixing on her. The weariness in his gaze had deepened, but there was somethingelse there too—a flicker of gratitude…and more. “Thank you.” His voice came low, rough with exhaustion and pain.
She nodded. She was standing too close to him. So close she could feel his heat. Or maybe that was her own cheeks flaming. She took a step away. “Of course. It’s the least I can do.”
She busied herself tidying away the supplies and basin of water while she worked to compose herself. When she turned back, he was still watching her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“We’ll need to put more salve on your head two or three times a day. You should rest now.” She managed a smile. “The salve will help with the pain and prevent infection, but sleep is the real healer.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, then dipped his chin. Bracing his good arm on the table, he pushed to his feet, moving stiffly. She fought the instinct to reach out and steady him.
“Goodnight then. And…thank you, again.” With that, he made his way out of the kitchen.
All she could do was stand there and watch him walk through the front door.
Enoch stood alonein the barn after everyone else had retired to their rooms.
The acrid smell of smoke lingered despite the rain. Moonlight streamed through the damaged roof, illuminating the wreckage.
His shoulder and head ached, but nothing compared to the turmoil in his heart.
Mandie’s face—pale, determined, framed by the flames—still flashed through his mind. She’d risked herself to save the mare, and he’d nearly lost her.
He sank onto a bucket, his voice a hoarse whisper in the silence. “Lord, I can’t lose her too.” He clenched his fists against the memories that surged forward of Charlotte, of Will—losses that had carved hollows in his soul.
Mandie was getting too close. Her kindness, her quiet strength, had seeped into those hollows, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
“I don’t know how to do this.” He stared at the shadows. “To care for her and not be afraid every moment she’s in danger.”
He half-expected a nudge in his spirit, something telling him he was being ridiculous. But there was only silence.
And the weight of his fear remained.
CHAPTER 13
The morning sun had already crested over the eastern peaks when Mandie emerged from the house. The sky showed no hint of last night’s storm. Only another bright summer day.
The men’s voices sounded from the barn. All four brothers had started clearing out the burned debris right after the morning meal, but she’d stayed behind to clean the kitchen.
She’d not told the men she would be coming to help. And Enoch wouldn’t be pleased to see her out here, of that she had no doubt.
Yet she couldn’t sit idle while everyone else worked.
As she approached, the acrid smell of charred wood assaulted her senses. She breathed through her mouth, willing her stomach to settle. The barn looked even worse in daylight, with gaping holes in the roof and blackened timbers jutting up like broken teeth. The fire must have consumed nearly half the structure.
The clang of metal on charred wood sounded from within, and a pile of rubble sat outside to the left of the door.
