I’d imagined Mr. Howard playing with the locks of hair that had escaped Miss Blackwell’s bonnet. I’d imagined him pulling her into a private nook and demanding a kiss from her. I’d imagined more scenarios than I’d care to admit in the five minutes it took to reach them.
None of my imaginings compared to what we actually found.
Mr. Howard was kneeling down in the dirt path in front of a gloveless Miss Blackwell, his head bowed low over one of her hands. He turned his head and caught my eye just as he released the tip of Miss Blackwell’s finger from his mouth.
I was on him in less than half a heartbeat. “What the blazes do you think you are doing?” I grabbed the wrist of his hand that still held Miss Blackwell’s finger and pulled him off the ground and away from her.
He smiled at me in response, and by the heavens it took everything in me not to pummel him for that smile alone. It wastoo similar to the one he’d given all of us when Miss Blackwell had avoided answering his question on the night of the forfeits.
He waved both of his hands in front of him as an act of surrender. “Don’t fret, Captain. A thorn tore her glove and punctured her finger.”
The edges of my vision turned black. “And you were what? Bleeding her like a leech?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I was cleaning it.”
“I didn’t know you were a doctor. Where did you learn such a technique?”
He shrugged with complete nonchalance. “I must have read it somewhere.” I clamped down harder on his wrist and had the pleasure of watching him wince.
Miss Blackwell scoffed at my side. “Do you think either of us are going to believe you’ve read a book on medicine?” Her tone held censure, but it should’ve held more malice. How could she manage to speak without raging at him when he’d taken such an absurd liberty with her? She turned to me, but I couldn’t return her gaze. I couldn’t look at her. “He told me,” she said pointedly, “he was going to examine the cut.”
He smirked. “I did examine it.”
Yes, he did. With his blasted tongue. His arched eyebrow made it clear he was thinking the exact same thing I was.
“What is your verdict?” Miss Blackwell asked as if he actually were a medical doctor.
He pulled his hand away from me with a quick jerk. I took a small amount of pleasure from the way he massaged his wrist with his other hand. “The cut isn’t very deep,” he said, then lifted his chin toward Applewood. “But I think the captain here should take you inside and do a better job cleaning it than I did.”
“I agree,” I said with a huff, turning back toward the house, still without looking at Miss Blackwell’s face. I shoved Mr. Howard aside and strode forward. I should have offered an armto Miss Blackwell, or at least motioned for her to go first, but it felt like a thousand bees were swarming just under my skin and I simply couldn’t trust myself. Not yet. I heard the scuff of her riding boots through the years of fallen leaves behind me, so she did follow.
“With water and cloth,” Mr. Howard called out to us, and I stumbled on an overgrown root at my feet.
22
EVELYN BLACKWELL
Applewood’s kitchens were cold—atestament to the emptiness of the home. I padded silently after Captain Calder until he found a basin of water sitting on a counter next to the massive ovens. He didn’t turn to look at me but held his hand out as if I couldn’t clean my own hand with a dampened cloth.
“It isn’t deep,” I said softly.
“Give me your hand, Miss Blackwell,” he said with such a menacing tone I complied immediately.
What trouble that hand had caused me this afternoon. Mr. Howard was a complete scoundrel for acting in such a manner. Charm could only excuse so much, and putting my finger in his mouth was decidedly beyond its reach.
I expected the captain to at least examine the puncture but he didn’t. Without any sort of warning he plunged my whole hand in the basin and held it there.
“Do you think we should be in your home alone?” I asked. I didn’t say what we both must be thinking—Hattie might not approve.
He kept his eyes on our hands underneath the water. “We have done much more inappropriate things, you and I.”
I glanced behind us. No one had followed. “But we don’t speak of it,” I reminded him.
“I’m not speaking of it.” He pulled my hand out of the water and assessed the puncture. “I’m decidedly not speaking of it,” he said again, this time gentler. He lowered his mouth to the tip of my finger and for the briefest of moments I thought he was going to kiss it, or worse, repeat Mr. Howard’s ministrations. But my finger stayed my own. He only blew on it softly.
No doubt Mr. Howard had been trying to be sensual with that mouth of his but the whole experience had been too shocking and unwanted. If he’d truly wanted to affect me in a positive manner he should have done this.
Captain Calder blew again, his warm breath cascading over the tip of my finger down to the knuckle.
