It didn’t work.
“I was wondering if ye could help me with this,” Thomas said, almost apologetically. He withdrew one arm from the folds of his plaid and held it towards her. “Nettle stings.”
Emma had no candle—there were too many dried leaves and flammable things in the storeroom—so she was forced to step closer to the door to see. And, of course, that meant closer to him, too.
He held out his arm for her inspection, meek as anything.
She winced. “How did ye do this?”
His forearm was blistered with red welts, the painful and distinctive rash of the stinging nettle. They’d become swollen a little, but it was nothing that wouldn’t fade away in a handful of days. Sooner if Emma treated it now.
“I had to get something from a nettle bush,” Thomas replied, a smile playing around his lips.
Emma did not look up. She was far too close to him now. A forearm’s length, in fact. She held his hand in hers, cupping his elbow to turn his arm this way and that, inspecting the stings. His skin was cool but not clammy, the palms of his hands warm and roughened from some sort of work. His skin was surprisingly soft, too, underneath the fuzz of dark hair on his arm. He had long fingers, strong and well-shaped, and she caught herself wondering what those hands would feel like on her bare skin.
She shoved the thought away, almost angrily, clearing her throat, and stepped back.
“Well, I’ll use some burdock salve for the pain. It’ll heal in two or three days, I reckon, but the pain should be gone within a day at most with the salve.”
She glanced up and immediately wished that she hadn’t. Thomas was looking down at her, his expression shadowed, but she could tell that his eyes were intent. Hungry, even.
He was watching her every move, and his closeness sent a spike of heat through her chest. She cleared her throat again, louder,and made herself let go of his arm. His fingers trailed over the inside of her wrist as she stepped back, but she wasn’t entirely sure whether or not it was an accident.
“Do ye have burdock salve, then?” he asked, his voice simmering with amusement.
She gave him a look. “Do we have burdock salve in the Healer’s Chambers? Aye, Me Laird, we do. Every man and woman in the land knows to rub burdock on a nettle sting, anyway.”
He chuckled, returning to his position of lounging in the doorway. Emma turned her back, reaching for a small tin of salve. She opened it, sniffing to check for freshness. Thomas’s presence seemed to burn itself onto her consciousness. She knewhe was there in a strange, intense sort of way.
She strained her ears to hear for any sounds of Delphine stirring, but there was nothing. They were alone.
Alone.
The idea made the dark thing in Emma’s gut fizzle in excitement, and it would not be ignored.
She composed herself and turned back to her patient. “All right, give me yer arm. I’ll use up the rest of the salve on these stings. Once it’s rubbed in, ye should feel the pain start to recede.”
He raised an eyebrow, extending his arm obediently. “All of it? I feel somewhat greedy. What if someone else gets a nettle sting?”
“Ye are mocking me.”
“Aye, I am, but only partly.”
“Well, I can assure you that we do have more burdock salve. We don’t just use it for nettle stings, ye know.”
“Ah. Well, I know now.”
Steeling herself, Emma dug her fingers into the cool, jelly-like salve, scooping out a good portion. She turned his arm over, starting with the soft underside. Smearing the paste over his skin in gentle, practiced circles, it was easy to forget whose hand rested in hers, whose regular breaths she could hear. She could almost feel the warmth from his body and smell the faintest scent of crushed grass, which must be coming from him.
She swallowed hard, keeping her head bent and focused on her work.
“I’m starting to understand why yer fingers are always stained green,” Thomas observed, breaking the silence. “Ye are always dipping them in and out of salves and pastes.”
“Aye, and the gathering of herbs. I don’t mind. It’s a mark of honor for a healer to have green hands. It’s a sign that ye are a hard worker and a good healer.”
“And ye are a very good healer, indeed.”
He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, and there was no reason at all for the shiver that rolled down her spine.
