Page 13 of Earl of Excess
“I will be back in a moment.”
He heard her in the kitchen area fumbling with something. Then, he heard fabric ripping and the scraping of glass from a shelf. His sense of hearing had undeniably become keener than he recalled. He would know if he was right when she returned.
“I have clean bandages, hot water, and the salve,” she announced, coming into the room.
Dandie jumped up on his bed and boldly walked around him to his pillow. At the back of his head, the dog settled in and put her paw over his forehead, as if to tell him it would be all right. He snorted. “Dandie is truly unique.”
“Yes, she is quite the personality,” Bethany laughed.
He loved her laughter. “You say your mother gave her to you? I had always hoped my parents would gift me one.”
“Let me look at the wound,” she said, lifting his shirt and pulling back the cloth. “There has been some bleeding. But it’s not a heavy color of blood. No signs of infection,” she murmured, gliding her fingers around his wound. “This is going to hurt a little, depending on how well it is healing.” She placed a pad of hot wet cloth on his wound, forcing him to thrust his side up a little, registering the shock.
“How does it look?” he asked.
“I am quite pleased. For a short time, the wound has shown no more festering. The angry appearance is gone. That does not mean it cannot get worse. We will have to keep it clean.” She put a thick smear of warm poultice on it and pressed dry cloths on top. “Sorry for the smell of the dressing. The linseed smells, but it is a must. I should make some more for our trip. It seems to stave off infection.”
“I can handle it. Except for the headache, and the lightheaded feeling, I can tell my body is feeling better.”
“It could have been worse, and I had feared it would. It looked horrible at first. I prayed the stitching would stem the flow of blood and keep out infection.”
He realized she was right. He was lucky that she had found him. Matthew could not let her run and not be with her. After all, it was because of him she had to leave her home. Had she not rescued him, she could wait here for the return of her grandmother. Hopefully, they would get away and make it to the colony without incident. He reached up and patted Dandie’s paw with his good arm. “Thank you, girl. You made me feel much better about things,” he said.
A soft, guttural sound emerged from the animal.
“She said, ‘You’re welcome’,” laughed Bethany.
Her soft laugh warmed him. He realized that he would have stayed with her even if he was still sighted. He felt this growing need to know her. In his mind, Matthew pictured her laying on the pillow next to him, her burnished locks spread upon the counterpane of white and a large smile radiating from her face. She had to have green eyes, he reasoned. He felt it.
“Your eyes,” he spoke up, without preamble. “What color are they?”
She stopped cleaning the area around his wound. “Green. Why do you ask?”
“I knew it,” he said, pleased with himself. “I had imagined them as green.”
“And yours are the nicest of blues,” she acknowledged. “Can you sit up? Just for a minute. I need to secure this bandage around your chest to hold this in place. It’s much easier that way.”
It was faint, but he smelled the fishy scent of linseed. He was still amazed at the sharpness of his other senses. It touched him that she was so concerned with his health. Impulsively, Matthew rose to a sitting position and could feel the heat of her breath in his face. He knew he was close to her lips. Without saying a word, he slowly leaned in and kissed her. Wearing a smile on his face, he eased back down on the bed and closed his eyes.
Chapter Seven
Bethany brought herfingers to her lips, startled by his kiss. He had kissed her... and she liked it. There would be no turning back from the heart-melting intimacy they had established earlier.
She watched him, sleeping peacefully on her bed as if nothing were amiss. It seemed he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
There could be no more. She dreaded hearing what her grandmother and aunt would have to say when they found her with an injured soldier, and an English one at that! As if reading her thoughts, Dandie whined at her side.
“It is problematic, girl.” She patted the dog and kissed her on the nose. “I am beginning to care for him. You know that will not work out. We are from two different worlds. Yet, I cannot seem to help myself.”
Her ancestors were French. She could carry on a conversation in French or English—or even Creole. Instinctively, she felt certain her background would not measure up to anything required by British society and—based on the address of his family—his family was part of that very society.
Dandie presented another concern. She had always been defensive of her—the dog growled at all men. She had growled at the man who had visited. Yet, with this man, she acted as if she had known him all her life. Realizing she should also be grateful, because the dog had a high-pitched bark. If she had disapproved of Matthew, she would surely raise the alarm, and others would be here.
Nothing was going according to plan. In her mind, she would help the man heal and send him on his way. Things were slowly getting out of control. She felt afraid, and she hated being afraid of anything. Navigating the canal and the bayou was not foreign to her, but the dangers presented now frightened her. The man, Sinclair, had mentioned deserters. Then there was the weather to consider. It continued to be overcast, cold, and foggy.
Noticing she was biting her nails, a habit her grandmère shamed her for constantly, Bethany straightened her shoulders and drew a deep breath.Enough. I must decide.She also needed to ready them to leave. The small canal where she lived was attached to the Villeré Canal, which ran near the plantation where the battle had raged. They would need to get past that early, before others saw them. Fog could be helpful. And the full moon would be a good guidepost among the clouds. Judging from the weather now, that should not be a problem. Conditions had been as thick as pea soup this morning—most mornings this week.
The colony was hidden in huts just beyond the juncture where the Bayou Mazant started. It had been a while since she had gone by herself to the camp, but Bethany felt sure she remembered the guidepost. She would recognize the jagged tree that had broken off in the middle and leaned out toward the water.
