Page 72 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
She leaned closer for a better look. So near, faint hints of soap on his skin filled her senses. Forcing her attention to the matter at hand, she examined a small cut not far from his left ear. The laceration was narrow and, thankfully, did not appear to go deep. Had the point of the dagger grazed him during the fight?
His brow furrowed. “’Tis nothing to worry yerself over.”
“My, you are a bit impatient, aren’t you,” she mused. “In my far-from-expert opinion, I’d wager a guess you will survive this wound. But nevertheless, it needs to be cleaned.” Her gaze roamed to the strip of cloth he’d tied around his bicep. “And your arm as well.”
“I’ve already taken care of that.”
“As well as anyone could dress their own wound.”
She set her bag on the bedside table and selected a bottle of antiseptic and a square of clean linen.
His brows lifted again. “Ever prepared, eh, Amelia?”
“In some respects.”
In truth, she was starting to have her doubts. Though born of necessity, the intimacy of the moment unleashed butterflies flitting about wildly in her stomach. She composed her thoughts.
“My Grandmother Beth’s father was an apothecary,” she went on, dousing the fabric with the antiseptic. “Before her marriage, she assisted him in his shop. Later, when I was a girl, Grandmother taught me to have the proper solutions at hand. One never knows when they will be needed.”
“So you just happened to bring them along?”
“Of course. Now be still,” she said and dabbed the antiseptic against his temple. “This may sting.”
The low hiss between his teeth confirmed the truth of her words. “By Lucifer’s ghost.”
Retrieving a strip of bandage from the bag, Amelia set her attention on his injured arm. “Let me take a better look.”
He shot her a playful scowl. At least, she hoped it was playful.
“I presume this will entail that blasted liquid torture.”
“I must say, I didn’t expect so much protest from a man rumored to be an outlaw.”
“Blackbeard never had to suffer yer ministrations.”
“Perhaps if he had, he would have lived longer.”
Logan regarded her for a long moment. “Even after he was decapitated, eh?”
She gave her head a brisk shake. “Sadly, I don’t believe I could have offered much help.”
“But ye’d have given it a valiant try,” he quipped.
“Highly unlikely,” she replied. “Now, hold out your arm. I am going to unwrap the bandage.”
“There’s not a blasted thing wrong with this binding.”
“You’ve made a commendable effort, but the wound must be disinfected to reduce the chance of infection.”
“More of that bloody torment in a bottle?” he grumbled as he extended his arm.
“Honestly, I had no idea you were so dramatic,” she said lightly, even as her heart beat ever so slightly faster. The acceleration of her pulse had nothing to do with his protests, buteverything to do with this tempting man who stood near enough to kiss.
Doing battle with her own rebellious thoughts, Amelia affected a serious demeanor and set about her task. “Fortunately, the wound is not overly deep,” she observed after she peeled away the cloth. “But I predict you are not going to like what comes next—”
His gaze locked with hers. “I’d wager ye’re right.”
“As I told you, I need to disinfect the injury.”
