Page 38 of A Rake's Redemption
“’Tis red because I was using the pitchfork earlier,” Inis said. “I must have rubbed it open.”
Alex ran his forefinger over the red area. “It feels hot.”
She felt hot all over from his touch, but she could hardly say that. He had barely grazed her skin, his finger light as a butterfly landing, but it might as well have been a match to dry tinder. When he slid his hand up the length of her arm and then along her collarbone to her neck, her blood flamed. “What…what are ye doing?”
“Checking for further infection,” he answered and turned the back of his hand to her cheek. “You feel quite warm.”
Because of what he was doing. She just hoped she wouldn’t spontaneously combust on the spot. Luckily, she was spared an answer as Mrs. Olsen returned with the salve and Mrs. Bradley in her wake.
The housekeeper walked over quickly and peered down, then frowned. “Do you want me to send for the physician?”
Inis shook her head. “Nae.”
“Yes,” Alex said.
Mrs. Bradley gave a curt nod and left the kitchen before Inis could protest further.
“Whiskey,” Alex said to the cook, who hurried out as well.
“’Tis mid-morning,” Inis said, “a wee bit early for spirits, nae?”
“Maybe not,” Alex replied, taking hold of her hand as he dipped the cloth into the warm water and dribbled it over her palm. “You not taking care of yourself is enough to drive a man to drink.”
“Doona blame me if ye want a dram of whiskey so early in the day.” Inis raised her chin. “I can take care of myself.”
Alex glanced up at her before squeezing more water over the puncture. “You managed to get dirt under the bandage.”
“I dinna.”
“You did. Look.”
Inis frowned and looked down. The water had washed a few specks of something off her hand. “That could have come from outside the bandage.”
“Maybe,” Alex said, not sounding at all like he agreed with her. The cook returned, holding a bottle out to him. He pulled the stopper and offered the whiskey to Inis. “You might want to take a big swallow.”
“I like to keep a clear head.”
“Suit yourself.” Alex turned her hand palm up over the water bowl. “This may sting a little.”
He’d hardly finished the sentence before he poured the whiskey over her wound. Inis clenched her jaw, although a sound like a hissing snake escaped. Alex flinched but continued to pour.
“Whiskey is the best thing to cleanse a wound,” he said and finally held the bottle upright. “There. That should do it.”
Inis ground her teeth against the sting of the pain, her eyes tearing. She reached for the bottle silently.
Alex handed it to her. “Take a big swallow.”
She didn’t need to be told twice.
…
“I think you are losing your touch,” Caroline said to Alex in the crowded salon at Vanessa Caldwell’s soiree. “You have not flirted with a single woman tonight.”
“I do notflirt,” Alex said, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
“My mistake,” Caroline said drily. “You have not flirted with even onemarriedwoman tonight.”
“I do not flirt with them, either.”
