The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(42)

Westley looked hesitant as he stood over her with the little salve pot in one hand and a roll of bandages in the other. Then he sat in front of her on the stool his mother had vacated.

“I’m very sorry about tonight. This should not have happened.”

Would he say it was just a misunderstanding, as the other servants had done? Did he believe Sabina was sincere in her tears and protestations of innocence, that she had not known the mushrooms were poisonous?

He looked into her eyes. “I don’t want to think what might have happened to you.”

“Yes, I am grateful your father and Reeve Folsham came to my aid. Those people would have fastened me in the pillory, at the very least.” There was that tone of defiance in her voice again. She wasn’t even sure why she was so angry at Westley. But she was. “I cannot blame them. They thought I was trying to poison them with Satan’s cap mushrooms.”

He was quiet as he took her hand in his, his skin warm and tingly. But she clenched her teeth, refusing to find his touch pleasant.

He smeared the thick yellow salve on her open blisters, his face tense as he concentrated on the task. The open wounds reacted to the cold salve with a slightly painful sensation that sent chills across her shoulders and down her back. But his hand was gentle and warm.

When he finished, he closed the jar, wiped his hand, and took up the bandage roll. He wrapped it around her hand.

“Can you make it tighter? I’m afraid it might fall off.”

He glanced into her eyes. Then he undid the bandage and started over. “I was trying not to cause more pain.”

“It does not hurt.” At least, not as much as you believing I would lie about your friend trying to kill you, or that I would try to poison people.

“I am sorry I did not check your hands again.”

“As I said before, it was my fault. I should have wrapped them. I can wrap my own hands, after all.”

“Well, I should have checked since I knew you had blisters.”

“It is not your place, as the lord’s son, to check the servants’ blistered hands.”

“I am only trying to be kind.” He tied the bandage snugly, then grabbed her other hand.

“Oh, you are very kind, my lord.” Evangeline bit the inside of her mouth at the sarcasm in her voice. Stop, Evangeline. Just stop.

He glanced at her face, then down again as he wrapped the second hand. “Is this not too loose? Too tight?”

“It is perfect, my lord.” Again she bit the inside of her cheek. She should not have baited him with the unwelcome address of “my lord.”

The moment he tied the bandage in place, she rose from the chair. But he held on to her hand, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist.

“I am sorry about what happened to you, Eva. It was wrong, and I am ashamed of my people for their violence and rush to judge.”

“You do not have to apologize for what they did. Their consciences are not your responsibility. Besides,” she said pertly, “I have already forgiven them.” She tugged her arm, trying to pull away from his hold.

“Then why will you not forgive me?” He kept hold of her wrist, drawing closer to her.

“Forgive you for what?” Her tone was still hard, but the breathiness betrayed the way he affected her when he was this near and she was staring into his blue eyes.

“For not believing immediately that you would never try to poison anyone. For not running up to that pillory and knocking those men to the ground and snatching you away from them.”

“And for not believing me when I said your friend tried to kill you?”

He hesitated, then said, “I was still upset that you had deceived us by pretending to be mute. And it is hard for me to accept such a terrible thing about my childhood friend.”

“Yes, I imagine it is.” She should not be staring at his lips. But they were just so perfect, so appealing.

But he did not care about her. And Sabina would do anything, obviously, to make sure he married her and no one else.

If he wanted someone as despicable as Sabina, then he was not worth desiring. Or mourning over. Even if he did make heart-swelling apologies and have a deep, gentle voice and an even gentler touch.

She spun around on her heel, forcing him to let go of her hand. “I forgive you. And I thank you for the bandages.” Over her shoulder she added, “Please tell your mother thank you.”

She limped to the door.

“I will walk you to the undercroft.” He caught up with her in two long strides. “Wait. You have not had your dinner.”

“It is all right.”

“No, no, we will go to the servants’ dining room. They should still be there.”

“I would rather not go in there.”

Understanding dawned on his face. “I will go get you some food. We can go together, to the kitchen.”

She sighed, deciding not to protest, and followed him out.

It was dark already as they walked across the yard to the kitchen. She waited outside while he went in. A few minutes later he came out with a large bundle.

“You must think I’m very hungry.”

“In case you get hungry again during the night.”

They continued on to the undercroft. At the door she took the warm bundle from his hand. “Thank you.”

Perhaps it was wrong for her to be angry with him for not trusting in her. After all, she was still hiding some rather big secrets. If only she could tell him who she was. But she could not risk it.