Page 13 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
“How did you injure yourself … William?”
There was a hesitancy to how she formed his name on her lips. William shot her a glance, observing how her eyes skittered away, and he realized the young woman was as nervous as he at this unexpected interlude of theirs.
“It was nothing. Just a mishap with my ladder. I spend little time at home, so my tools here are not well maintained like the ones in the smithy. It turned out to be a mistake to use them without inspection.”
“Huh. So nothing to do with the roof repairs at Mrs. Heeley’s cottage?”
William scowled. She was too damned observant. “How did you know that?”
“I saw the broken ladder and tiles out back. It was very kind of you to help the widow. Did she ask you to take care of it on Christmas Eve for a particular reason? Would it not have been easier with the help of one of your men?”
William mumbled his reply in a resentful tone.
“What was that?”
He frowned before admitting the truth in a louder voice. “Mrs. Heeley didn’t ask. You are not to mention it to her. I need to have one of my apprentices clean up the clutter so she will not learn of it, or it will embarrass her that I interceded.”
“You secretly repaired her roof on Christmas Eve?” William heard the note of awed admiration in Caroline’s voice, which stirred a visceral warmth in his lower belly, close to the region of his—
No, William!
They might be spending the holidays together, but there was no reason to become too intimate in their conversation. He admired her far too much already, so he needed to avoid finding ever more traits to attract him further to the young woman.
Tearing his eyes from her, he scowled at the ceiling. “Are you going to make something to eat, or what?”
A melodic chuckle was her only response. William listened as her feet pattered out of the room, the urge to call her back almost overpowering. Almost.
* * *
Caroline chuckledas she made her way back to the kitchen. The blacksmith might be grim and full of bluster, but he had just revealed his soft side. He had injured himself doing secret repairs for the old woman next door. Mr. Jacks—William was kind under all that cantankerous posturing.
She had to admit to her relief that the man was on his back. William was far less imposing now that he was not towering over her, a wall of muscle and sinews that beat iron and steel into shape for his livelihood.
William. It suited him. A strong English name for a strong English man.
She could not deny a frisson of awareness that was running through her veins, but given that the man was relegated to lying on his back, she was confident she could maintain her equilibrium. All she had to do was get through the night without incident, and she would know that she had found her footing—and moral backbone—around handsome men.
Granted, William was nowhere near as charming as Lord Saunton, the man who proved her errant character, but he was just as virile. If not more so. Caroline could test her mettle. Fortunately, the man was laid up, so he posed little risk.
Humming a Christmas carol, she put water to boil. Scrounging around the kitchen, she located his tea things and decided to make the blacksmith a sandwich. She would make him something more robust in the morning, but tonight it would be best to feed him as speedily as possible.
She cut the fresh bread she had found, adding slices of cheese and smoked ham, then laid it out on a plate. Then she cut a much smaller sandwich for herself. Digging through her basket, she located the biscuits from Mr. Andrews, laying out York biscuits alongside rolled wafers. She doubted that a man such as William would wish to have milk in his tea, so she poured two cups, leaving his untouched while adding a little milk to her own.
Picking up the laden tray, and still humming her Christmas tune, Caroline walked back to the sitting room.
William was laid out on the settee, his eyes shut. Now that there was more light in the room, Caroline noted a pallor to his bronzed skin. The man clearly needed to eat.
Walking over, she placed the tray down on the table between the settees before taking a seat across from him. William slowly opened his eyes, his blue gaze finding the tray, and an expression of raw hunger flashed across his face. He pushed himself up to lean against the arm of the settee, his stomach growling loudly as if the proximity of the food had awakened a tiger.
“Thank you … Caroline.”
The sound of her name on his lips caused a delicious shiver to travel from her nape down her spine. William had sculpted, smooth lips—something she could not help noticing on the day they had met—and she guessed instinctively that they would be warm to the touch.
There will be no touching, Caroline!
Her eyelids flickered as she chased the musings from her wayward thoughts. Lifting the plate with his thick-cut sandwich, she handed it over with a nod of acknowledgment, then moved his teacup so he could reach it.
She picked up her own tea to sip, lifting her sandwich to take a bite before setting it back down. Peeking from beneath her eyelashes, she observed him devouring his sandwich. Picking up his tea, he sipped the scalding liquid rather fast. She supposed as a blacksmith, he was more accustomed to high heats than herself. With satisfaction, she watched his color return to normal as he consumed his dinner.
