Page 77 of Potions and Proposals
“How much aftershave does one man need?” Lucinda muttered, breaking him from his thoughts.
“Is it a crime to smell good?” he asked, trying to hide a smug grin. He was sure traces of his scent were on her. Anyway, it was only a few bottles; he liked to have options, since he kept his wardrobe so limited.
Lucinda muttered something under her breath and grabbed a bottle of disinfectant. The flush travelling from her neck to her cheeks told him she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended by what had happened in the woods.
“I can do it myself. You don’t have to burden yourself,” Benedict said gruffly, but she shoved him back down.
“You should be honoured to be treated by a healer of my skill.” She stepped confidently between his legs and tilted his chin up to get a better look. He usually liked to be in control, but damn, did it turn him on to have her stand over him.
“I don’t think the green fox felt the same way,” he teased, then winced as she gently wiped a cotton pad over the first scratch. She rested her other hand on his shoulder, distracting him.
“That was years ago. Do you have to remembereverymistake I’ve made?” Though her tone was rough, her touch was breathtakingly gentle. “If I turn you green, it won’t be an accident.” He watched her brow crease with concern. “The scratches are deep, but if we can get some of Grams’s balm onit soon, it shouldn’t scar.” She dipped a new cotton pad in the disinfectant. “You’re lucky you don’t need stitches. I’m not as neat as Grams with a needle.”
“I trust you, but not enough to take a needle and thread to my face.” He faked a flinch as she went to touch his cheek again.
Her eyes flashed to his at the word ‘trust’. He wished he could hear what she was thinking.
“Stop flinching, I haven’t even touched you yet,” she grumbled, holding his chin in her hand. “We need to clean it. The more you move, the longer it’s going to take.”
That was exactly what he was hoping for. His fingertips brushed each side of her thighs, ever so gently, to balance himself. The soft fabric was nothing compared to the warmth of her skin. He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from such tantalising memories.
Lucinda stared at him, and he realised she was waiting for his permission to proceed.
“Sorry.” He nodded.
Watching her, Benedict enjoyed the way she pursed her lips and blew on the wound, drying the disinfectant, how she got so close without any hesitation. His pain was muted as he brushed strands of fallen hair from her face. She didn’t flinch, as though it wasn’t strange at all for his hands to be on her. He flexed his jaw to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.
“What?” he asked, trying not to fidget as her eyes lingered on every detail of his face. “Do I look hideous?”
“You were lucky they missed your eye,” Lucinda told him, her palm against his cheek.
His eye was the last thing he cared about. All he could focus on was the slope of her jaw, the small dimple in her chin and her long, dark lashes. He kept his attention away from her lips, so close to his, even if every fibre of his being was desperate to taste them again.
She removed her hand from his cheek, and he missed the warmth. The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air as she put the lid back on the bottle.
“Not so hard to let someone help you, is it?” she said, putting the bloody cotton in the bin.
“You didn’t give me a choice,” Benedict retorted. “Following me in the woods was brave, but reckless as hell. You surprised me, Hawthorne; I thought you’d be happy to let the wolvespounce on me.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you when you were so angry, and injured! They could’ve done serious damage. I don’t think you’d be so charming with half a face.”
“I wouldn’t need to be charming if I turned into a wild beast,” he joked as she pressed a damp cloth to his cheek. “I’d have fear on my side.”
“A scratch won’t turn you. I doubt you’ve to worry about sprouting fangs and fur.”
“How can you be so sure?” he said, getting up to stand behind her by the sink as she put away the antiseptic. She stared at him in the mirror. “Maybe you should chain me up just in case.”
Lucinda rolled her eyes and slipped away from him. Benedict swallowed as she lifted one side of her skirt, revealing black stockings with a delicate lace edge.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he stammered.
She rolled her stocking down to her knee. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles. Then he noticed the four faint silver lines on the side of her thigh.
“A wolf did this?” he snarled, anger renewed. His heart pounded, though he wasn’t sure if it was his rage or watching her slip the stocking back over the scar.
“Relax. I only showed you so you’d know you won’t change. Mine was an accident, but far deeper than yours, and I’m still 100% witch. You’ve nothing to worry about,” Lucinda promised,and his heartbeat steadied as she rested a hand on his chest. “Don’t think you can get out of the binding anyway, even if you did wolf out.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, resting his hand over hers. “How did it happen?”
