*
Relieved to findno sign of infection, Erina treated Harry’s wound inthe manner the surgeon had instructed. She had stopped using alcohol before it caused dryness and itchiness and now swabbed the wound with vinegar mixed with boiled water and a little honey.
He gazed up at her. “Am I ready for the stove yet?”
She smiled. “I’ll begin using the salve tomorrow.”
Harry lay back as she bent over his chest, attaching a fresh bandage. Then she tied on the sling to support his left arm. While caring for him, she’d become familiar with his musky masculine smell and how smooth his skin felt beneath her touch, but even so, his closeness still made her strangely short of breath. She remembered Cathleen’s words, how Mr. Leahy had made her feel. Dismissing the disturbing thought, she moved away from the bed. “You’re healing nicely.”
“Down to wholesome living.” Harry watched her as she rolled the remaining bandage. “You have capable hands, Erina.”
“Can you envision me sitting by the fire embroidering while my husband reads the broadsheets?” she asked sweetly.
Harry grinned. “You could sit on my lap, and we’ll read the newspaper together.”
Her heart leaped, but one glance at his expression and she knew he was teasing her again. “You must be feverish and delirious.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on his forehead. “Cool. Bored, then, most likely.”
He sighed heavily. “I am bored stiff. Is it any wonder? I’ve been confined to bed for almost a sennight. Your company is my only pleasure. And you pamper me as if I’d been shot in the head instead of the shoulder and incapable of making an intelligent decision concerning my own welfare. You select my food—and I refuse to look at another egg custard or milk pudding! The worst indignity is when you send an inept manservant to shave me and wash me like a baby.”
“You can hardly shave yourself with one arm.” She smiled, relieved that he was becoming more like his old self.
“You’d be surprised what I can do with one arm,” Harry said witha wicked gleam.
Erina flushed. “You’re getting better.”
Harry fell back on the pillow and laughed weakly. “I dashed well hope so.”
“Tomorrow, you can sit in that chair by the window in the sun.”
“How exciting. I simply cannot wait.”
She fought to dismiss the tender feeling he evoked in her as she tidied away the bandage and salve in a box. “You used to accuse me of being impatient and short-tempered. I believe I’ve much to learn from you.”
Harry raked his chestnut hair with his good hand. “I apologize for cursing, Erina. I have become a sorehead. I shall be meek and mild for the rest of the day, and I’ll even allow you to win at cards this evening.”
“Decent of you,” she said. “I believe the score is sixty-forty.”
“In my favor,” he added silkily.
“I shall even that up tonight without any assistance from you. I’m learning to be crafty from one of the best.”
“Brave words!” He gestured to the letter on the table that she’d brought in with her. “A letter has come? Who is it from? Do you plan to read it to me?”
“Not my father.” Her father’s reply to her letter had stated crisply how the lack of a mother’s guidance had caused her to be less prudent and circumspect than a lady of her birth and breeding should be. There had followed a fearful silence. She held up the letter. “It’s another from Cathleen.”
“Good. I enjoyed her last letter. How are the piglets?”
“They are all thriving, and now that things have settled down at the farm, the hens are laying again.” She turned the page over. “Mr. Leahy has written. He’s coming to Naas to see her.” She grinned at Harry. “Isn’t that the best news?”
“Indeed, it is.” His gaze grew thoughtful.
She glanced at him. Her guilt at causing him to be shot lay heavily in her chest. “I do hope so. It would make this foolish trip of mine worthwhile.”
“It already is worthwhile.”
Her heart fluttered. “Why?”
“I’ve enjoyed it. Well, most of it.”
