Page 16 of Earl of Excess
“You must tell me when you leave. I worried for your safety, knowing there was naught I could do.” He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. “I know we both promised we would not do this, yet I cannot seem to stop myself.”
Bethany wanted this so much. How could she even think about his leaving? But she must. Grandmère would see to it, she felt sure. She would find an Indian guide to help him to a port and onto a boat. Something. Her grandmother was resourceful. She would miss his kisses... his touch. She tried to turn this one away, but she wanted the kiss too much. Strange things happened to her body when he touched her. It felt like her butterflies would fly up her arms and down her neck to her toes. She rather liked the feeling. She felt herself pull him closer, craving the warmth that his mouth and arms offered after the cold trip in the boat.
They planned to leave before dawn for her aunt’s house, and she would have this to remember. Her hands gently ran through his hair, slowly rubbing the side of his head behind his ears. Pulling back, she gazed up at him. “Do you feel well enough to make the trip in the morning? It’s cold and it could be raining. I have a tarp for the boat, but that will hardly keep out the cold.”
“I am amazed at how much better I feel. The pain has not left. However, it is not incapacitating, as before,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I still tire easily.”
“You have complained of a headache. There’s a slight indention behind your ear I had never noticed. Would you mind if I take another look?”
He leaned down and veered a little to the right. He stilled before feeling for the chair behind him for the chair and sitting down. “This dizzy feeling comes and goes.”
“You had not mentioned being dizzy, but you have been asleep or sitting most of the time. It looks like you got hit on the head. A head injury could cause blindness.” Bethany cared about this man. She was worried.I hope it will not be permanent.“My aunt has been working with herbal medicine longer than anyone in my family. My Grandmère describes her as gifted. I am not sure I told you, but she is blind. However, what she misses with her sight, she gained with her nose. She can detect the differences in many herbs by smell and locates them that way, as well.”
“This is the first I am hearing of your aunt’s blindness.” His voice was soft and reflective.
“It was a childhood illness. They called it the fever.”
“Is it scarlet fever?” he responded, sympathetic.
“She lost her sight at eight, just before the fever left her body, according to Grandmère,” Bethany explained.
“A tragedy, to be sure, for a small child to lose their sight. Many in our country lose their lives to the fever. We know not much about it.”
“Grandmère said that it nearly took her life,” Bethany added.
“How tragic. I appreciate how terrifying that must have been for a child. That she has found peace with her blindness astounds me. Even though I find my other senses—like smell—are much better. I notice scents I had never noticed before. Had I been without sight all my life, my appreciation and peace with this would be more palpable. However, I cannot deny the loss I feel.” Matthew looked in the direction of the heat.
His tone had become melancholy and detached, and she worried. “Do you truly feel well enough to travel in the morning?” she said, needing to be sure. He was no longer running a fever, but the spot behind his ear and the dizziness worried her. She wondered how she had missed that when examining his head. Guilt began a slow crawl into her consciousness. How had she missed something so obvious? Had she seen it, could she have prevented blindness?
No, she chided herself. She had done the best she knew to do.
“I believe I will be. If I get to rest this afternoon and evening, I feel sure I can travel.”
He sniffed the room with a teasing grin. “I do not smell potatoes. Did you say we would have them?”
She laughed and swatted his arm. “Of course. You must be getting better or else you would not risk being tossed out,” she mocked. “I will get the meal going if you will keep Dandie company.”
“Sure. That should be easy.” He gave a quick whistle and the little dog looked up. “Come sit with me, Dandie.”
At his words, the little terrier got up from her place in front of the fireplace and jumped into the chair with him.
Bethany fastened her apron and turned around in time to see her dog giving Matthew licks on his face.Traitor, she thought with a wry smile. What was it about this man that made both females in this house accept him so willingly? She filled the teakettle and hung it in the fireplace. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked to the wicker basket on the work counter and pulled potatoes from the small bag. Selecting three large ones, she began to peel them. Bethany withdrew a small amount of lard from the jar and placed it in the iron pot over the fire. She salted and peppered a bowl of diced potatoes and added them to the hot grease. Immediately, the smell of cooking potatoes wafted in the air, eliciting a growl from her stomach. She had not realized how hungry she had been. When the potatoes were almost ready, she moved them to the side and inserted a handful of small pieces of pork.
“My stomach has awakened with a growl,” Matthew said, leaning toward the scrumptious aroma.
She giggled. “Mine as well! I do not recall when I last made potatoes like this. My Grandmère usually made them when Grandpapa was alive. Her favorite morning meal is pain perdu, bread dipped in a cinnamon mixture with eggs.”
“That sounds delicious, as well.”
“Yes. It does. I should make some bread before we leave. It would be good to have on the trip and should not take too long,” she mused to herself.
When the food was nearly ready, she cleared the small table she had been using to prepare the herbs for drying.I love the smell of sage, basil, and rosemary,she thought, adding a last-minute pinch of dried rosemary to the pot. Wiping the table clean, she laid out two straw placemats, two porcelain plates, and pewter utensils. Using her tea strainer, she filled two teacups with hot water and made black tea for the two of them. Last, she took a small bowl from the cabinet for Dandie’s meal. The small dog had been patiently waiting for her food.
“Here you go, little one,” she said, placing the first serving in her companion’s bowl. “We should let it cool a few minutes and then, you can have it.” She fanned the bowl with another plate.
“You treat your dog well,” Matthew observed. “She is probably the best-behaved dog I have ever observed.”
“She is all I have left of my mother, and she takes good care of me,” Bethany replied, fanning the small bowl. “You are a good girl, aren’t you, little one?” Her statement was more of an observation than a question.
