Page 26 of Tangwystle
“Does it hurt?”
“Just tickles.” She shivered again, and I eased the pressure, but she laughed. “That just makes it worse.”
I’d washed her skin before, but never when she was awake.
“Can you sit up more?” I asked.
Gretel’s curls moved against the pillow as she debated.
I didn’t give her a choice. “Sit up.”
Sighing, she lifted upright.
Her legs slid under the sheet as she took her time, tucking them under herself. Finally, she turned to face me.
I averted my eyes, wringing out the towel. Water dripped into the bowl.
Gretel lifted her arms to her side, and I thought this a little too impertinent. She’d been my patient the last few days, but I wasn’t her chambermaid. This time, when I ran the cloth over her skin, I made sure it tickled her underarm.
She wiggled in her seat, but her words weren’t full of humor. “Has anyone come yet?”
“This morning,” I admitted. She deserved to know the truth. “The one with the mustache.”
I dipped the towel in the water bowl again, wringing it out. “Baz has decided you will stay here.”
“Baz,” she faintly repeated the name.
I began on her other arm. “That being if you choose to stay this time.”
I felt rather than saw Gretel’s eyes on me. I focused on my movements, running the towel across her skin.
“I. . .” The one word stood between us. Gretel closed and opened her mouth before she got her words out. “C-can I really stay here?”
The towel trailed up and over her collarbone. “Baz has said it’s all right.”
That was putting it lightly. Part of me worried he might try to go burn down Clinemell Manor.
“And is Baz. . .” She rolled the name around her mouth like she wasn’t quite sure if she said it right. “He’s. . .”
“He’s not like Clinemell.”
The words came out too sharp.
Gretel swallowed, turning her head to look out the window. For now, we could keep the curtains open, but she wouldn’t be allowed to look out them. Just in case any nosy neighbors decided to look in.
“He wasn’t always so bad,” Gretel said.
I couldn’t believe she’d ever say anything nice about that man. Let alone try to defend him.
“I know how it looks,” she said.
Like whipped skin. I kept my mouth shut, but my movements became rougher. Digging the now-cold towel harshly against her skin.
“Things changed when Mrs. Clinemell moved in,” she said, bracing herself with an arm as she swayed back as I washed her shoulder.
“And before?” I vigorously rubbed.
Gretel opened and closed her mouth again. Her pink lips weren’t even chapped. “Y-you’re angry at me. Because I went back.”
