Fear the Drowning Deep(23)

“I need you to change Fynn’s bandages.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“There are clean ones on the table by the sofa. It’s simple enough.” Mally whirled to the stove to check on the biscuits. “I’ll explain while we eat.”

Seeing Fynn naked as the day back on the beach had certainly been educational, but I couldn’t change his bandages while he was awake and talking. “Can’t it wait till you return, Mal? Please? I’m not skilled at caring for others the way you are. If there’s anything else—”

“Just changing the bandages is all.” Mally squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll do fine. I’ve been keeping the wounds clean, and they don’t smell. Unless …” She crouched by my chair, her lips curved with mischief. “You’re scared to try.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I scowled at her. “I’m not scared. I’m the one who saved him, remember? I’m sure I’ll manage.”

When the biscuits came out of the oven, Mally hardly gave them a minute to cool before shoving one in her mouth. “Too hot!” she yelped. Her words were muffled by biscuit crumbs. She flung her apron over the back of a chair and breezed out of the kitchen.

The front door whooshed open and shut, leaving me alone with the ever-present murmur of the sea and Fynn.

The house wasn’t often this quiet, and the more I noticed the stillness, the more the skin on the back of my neck prickled. For all I knew, there could be someone or something lingering outside our windows, or in the water far below. A creature with dark scales and fins, waiting for me to be alone so it could drag me into the sea. Surely that’s what it had wanted to do at the harbor, before I shouted and Da frightened it away.

I didn’t intend to give it a second chance. Snatching up the biscuit pan, I strode into the main room.

Fynn’s blue eyes followed my movements. His hair stuck up in the back from being pressed against the stiff horsehair cushion. And he was shirtless, his chest lightly tanned, leading to a narrow waist and the outline of bony hips.

He waited until I had placed the biscuits in front of him before saying, “What’s this? You aren’t my usual nurse.”

“How observant of you.” Averting my gaze, I picked up the fresh bandages, which were right where Mally had said they’d be. He chuckled, and I fought the urge to join in, gesturing to the biscuits instead. “Help yourself.”

“I’ve already eaten. Your mother’s kippers were excellent.” Fynn tried to push himself upright, but collapsed against the cushion. “Besides, I’d rather talk to you.”

I raised my brows. “Lucky me.” Kneeling by the sofa, I took hold of the bandages. “Don’t bother sitting up. I imagine it’ll be easier on both of us for me to change these if you stay just as you are.”

“Thanks, but there’s nothing wrong with these bandages.” Fynn peered down his torso. The cloth around his middle was mostly white, but faint patches of pink showed through where I remembered the worst of his injuries to be.

“Liar,” I murmured.

He groaned. “I miss my usual nurse. She doesn’t have such a sour disposition.”

I shifted closer for a better look and adopted a stern expression. “You need to follow Mally’s instructions, or you’ll wind up a permanent resident on our sofa with wounds that won’t close.” More pink stained the bandages that disappeared into the waistband of Da’s borrowed trousers. “You’re quite the sight.”

“As are you.” Fynn extended a hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered as he strained to reach me. Not wanting him to re-open his ghastly injuries with the effort, I leaned toward him.

“What is it?”

He brushed his thumb across my nose, gentle and unhurried. My heart skipped like I’d just sprinted up the hill to Morag’s cottage. “You have flour on your face.” His fingers swiped across my cheek in long, slow strokes where Mally had tapped me with her fingers earlier. “Is that a Manx custom, wearing your food?”

Warmth crept into my cheeks. “If you’re curious, you’ll have to stay around long enough to learn our ways.”

“I’m already learning. Just today, I learned how to use a fork.”

Unsure if he was joking, I fought the urge to giggle and set aside the clean bandages to search for the salve Mally dabbed around his wounds. “If I were you,” I added, turning my head to hide a smile, “I wouldn’t tease the lass who’s about to dress your wounds—unless you like your bandages wrapped too tightly to take a proper breath.”

Fynn cocked his head, dark hair spilling into his eyes. “Should I have let you walk around with flour on your nose, then?”

Salve in hand, I crouched by the sofa again. “Hush. This will go quicker if you don’t talk so much.”

“But I still haven’t thanked you for rescuing me.” He rested a hand on my shoulder, and I froze. “It couldn’t have been easy hauling me off the beach. You’d have had an easier time carrying a dolphin.”

I glanced at the hand on my shoulder. “It was worth the struggle.” My palms were slick. “Have you recalled what attacked you yet?”

Fynn’s brows rose. “As I told your mother and your sister earlier—no.”