“You don’t annoy me. Even if you do, I like it, which defeats the purpose.”
“I remember the smell of mustard.”
“When I wouldn’t let them bleed you, he said he would apply a poultice. All it looked like was a smelly cloth.”
“It would help keep the infection from my lungs.”
“Then he gave you a drink with some kind of bark and laud-a-mon?” He winced. “It felt like I was in some sort ofHarry Potterouttake watching someone make potions, when magic isn’t real.”
Who knew what he was rambling about half the time, but she did realize what the apothecarist had given her and why she had slept so deep and long.
“Bark? That would be willow bark. It brings down fevers. And laudanum is to help bring sleep for rest and healing.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s also called opium.”
His eyes widened. “The doctor gave you opium?”
“It’s very common. I hear friends in London swear that rubbing laudanum on their baby’s gums helps them rest.”
“It’s amazing humans keep surviving.”
“All right, Mr.Everything-Is-Better-in-the-Future. We make do here, and clearly must get plenty of it right for so many of you to have made it.”
He looked abashed. “Are you really going to be okay?”
She squeezed his hand. “Yes. This happens, like I said. I was so distracted that I forgot to prepare or think of it. But eloping and Henry appearing. Also preparing to announce the news to my parents. I should have expected my body would react.”
“And you are sure it’s not how...” He looked away. “Nah. Forget it. I’m being stupid.”
“You aren’t at fault here.” She kept the amusement from her voice. He’d think she was making fun of him, but it was nothing close to that. She found his anxiety that their intimacy might have harmed her rather endearing.
“What you did to me beneath that tree? It burned, yes. But in adifferent way. And if we do it again, I wouldn’t take laudanum—I’d want to feel every single thing your mouth does.”
He patted her hand, gaze averted.
“Look at me,” she said. He turned slowly, his face a mask. “You didn’t hurt me. You aren’t to blame.”
“I’m to blame because I’m taking you to your parents’ house, and I know they will hurt you there. Henry keeps reminding me of this.”
“I’ve long become accustomed to the fact that my wishes and my family’s wishes have not been aligned. It shall be unpleasant. But my life without you? That would be far worse.”
His gaze locked with hers, still unreadable.
“We are helping each other. We’ve become friends, haven’t we?” Even as she spoke the words, they tasted wrong. This wasn’t a lie—they were friends. It was just avoiding all the other words they were or might be, words that were more confusing and complicated and better left in the ether.
“Friends.” His voice held the same careful, neutral tone. “Who need each other to achieve our goals.”
“Precisely.”
Why was he still staring like that? And why was she? It was like playing one of those silly parlor games where you wait to see who will blink first. It wouldn’t be her. She wasn’t going to add to his worries about returning to his home by demanding his attachment like a spoiled child.
There was an undeniable spark between them, but like a flame, their connection needed tending to grow. If she didn’t actively pursue it, their bond could remain as it was—a small glowing ember, safe and contained. Nothing dangerous. No one would be burned by the heat.
They would not play with fire.
Chapter Nineteen
