Page 175 of Feathers in the Wind
The muscles in Nathaniel’s jaw tightened as I sutured the wound but to his credit he did not flinch. I followed up with tetanus and penicillin injections, which he bore without complaint.
‘Well, I will hand it to you, Nathaniel Preston, you’re pretty tough.’
He let out a deep breath. ‘I’ve been hurt before.’
‘So I see.’ My gaze dropped to the jagged scar below his ribs. ‘I didn’t realize the Civil War Association could be quite that authentic.’
‘What is this Civil War Association of which you speak?’
I looked into his puzzled eyes and shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. You can talk about it with Alan.’
He spread his fingers on the table and looked down at them. ‘Mistress Shepherd, is what you say true? Is this the year 1995?’
I nodded. ‘1995.’
He straightened his arm and grimaced. Recognizing the pinched look around his eyes and mouth, I stood up. ‘Nathaniel. That arm must be hurting like hell. I will give you something for the pain.’
I went to the tap in the kitchen and turned it on. Behind me, the chair scraped, and Nathaniel joined me at the basin.
He ran his hand under the flow of water and as I turned the tap off, he shook his head and said with what sounded like wonder in his voice, ‘Do that again.’
I complied. He put his hand on the tap, turning it on and off. Before I could stop him, he’d turned the hot water tap on hard. Scalding water shot from the tap and he drew his hand back.
‘Incredible,’ he marveled, shaking his hand with a grimace. ‘Hot water on command. Do you have a servant to heat it for you?’ He looked around the room as if he expected a secreted servant to be hiding in the cupboards.
‘No,’ I replied, instinctively grabbing his hand and holding it under the cold water. ‘I am all out of servants. The gas board does it quite adequately. Let me look at that hand.’ He held out his hand but apart from being a little red, there didn’t appear to be any damage.
I looked up at him. ‘Do you really need me to tell you the red dot means hot water?’
‘Red dot...hot water...I will remember,’ he mumbled.
He took the pain killers and a glass of water I held out for him, weighing the little pills in his hand. ‘What do I do with these?’
‘Swallow them.’
The mesmerizing gray-green eyes narrowed. ‘Is this poison?’
I shook my head. ‘I promise it’s not poison and it will take the pain away.’
He swallowed the pills, washing them down with the water, making a face at the bitter aftertaste.
He straightened and picked up my right hand. ‘Thank you for your care of me, Mistress Shepherd.’
Before I could react, he kissed my hand. The touch of his lips on my skin had been no more than a butterfly touch, but it sent a lightning bolt through me as if it had ignited a touch paper that could not be extinguished. I withdrew it as if I had been scalded.
His eyes met mine, holding my gaze. ‘Jessica Shepherd, are you a good doctor?’
‘I believe so.’
He took a breath and leaned against the draining board, running a hand over his eyes.
‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Just a little dizzy.’
‘You’re still looking rather pale. I think you should rest for a little before you go home. Would you like a bath?’
He frowned. ‘A bath? Why? I had a bath last month.’
I wrinkled my nose. While not entirely unpleasant, a long run in heavy clothes on a hot day left a lingering scent of unwashed male.
