“About eight or nine, I suppose.”
“Seems a risky thing to do at such a young age.”
She smiled then, and it was a glorious smile no matter it being quite small.
“That’s a silly thing to say,” she admonished.
“This from the woman with a burned hand,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “My mother watched us all carefully in the early years. Besides, after you are burned once, then you’re very careful.”
“Once, eh?” he couldn’t help teasing her
Her cheeks pinkened. “I have hardly ever been so careless. It is your fault entirely.”
“Mine?” Greer couldn’t wait to hear how this was possible.
“For distracting me while I was at the hot stove.”
“I see. I confess, I didn’t realize I was such a tempting distraction.”
Her cheeks blushed a deeper rose, spurring him to joke a little longer.
“I shall have to attempt to diminish my highly potent appeal.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Potent appeal, indeed! You are insufferable. I never said you were tempting. It was the way you were opening the ice box, letting all the cold out, and lurking behind me.”
“Lurking?” He couldn’t help laughing, but in truth, Greer liked being close to her. She made him feel ... happy, even when she was crabby. “I don’t think I’ve been accused of lurking before.”
“Well, you were,” she insisted. “In any case, I’m ready to go home.”
She lifted her hand from the water. There were no blisters, which he took to be a good sign.
“When I used to ride the rails for my uncle, inspecting tracks and all that, I encountered a lot of folk with injuries, as you can imagine, and those who lived close to the land swore by the aloe plant for burns. They got the knowledge from the natives. I don’t suppose you have any.”
“No. I’ve never even heard of it.” She got to her feet.
“It’s a cactus,” he explained.
Beatrice frowned at him again. “Mr. Carson, how can you imagine I would have a prickly cactus in the middle of England. In any case, I wouldn’t put such a thing on my hand.”
“You slice it open and ... never mind,” he said when faced with her glare. “What remedies do you use?”
“I don’t know. My mother would, but she’s away still, longer than expected.”
“When folks don’t have aloe, they use honey. Do you have that at least? And then we’ll put a clean cloth around it.”
“Yes, we have honey.” She reached over the marble top to the shelf and grabbed a jar. “I can’t imagine how it will do any good.”
Opening the jar, he took hold of her hand and carefully poured some of the pale amber liquid on it. She shivered, and he looked into her sparkling eyes.
“You’re not cold, are you?”
“No. It just felt strange. What is it supposed to do?” Her voice had gone all quiet and raspy.
He had a strange feeling, himself. Something about holding her soft hand and standing close, gazing down at her. It was a heady sensation indeed. He could even smell her distinctly sweet, fresh fragrance.
“They say, whoevertheyare, that honey soothes a burn.”
