Page 48 of Her Dark Seduction
“Nay, ’tis I who should apologize, not only for the state of my house…” he lifted a hand and smiled at my protests, “…but also my wife’s words. You’re our guest, and she had no right to say what she did. She’s a pious woman and takes her faith seriously.”
“As do I sir. Might I know to whom I am indebted?”
He shook his head. “Your companion, Sawford, does not wish it—neither does he wish me to know your name, so do not speak it.”
He held out his hand. “I would welcome you to my home.”
A large red mark ran along his forearm. I took his hand.
“You’re hurt.”
“The hazards of being a smith.”
“Have you anything for it?”
“Time, mistress; just time.”
I released his hand. “I have something that will help. Come inside.”
He followed me into the house, and I darted into the back room to fetch the jar of salve, tearing a strip from my silk nightshift as a makeshift bandage.
He sat patiently while I opened the jar and spread the salve over the burn before binding it.
“Change this once every two days,” I said, tying the ends of the bandage in a knot. “The pain should lessen by tomorrow and will heal within a sennight.”
He smiled at my crisp instructions and took my hand.
“You are no ordinary whore, are you?” he said gently. “Perhaps you’re no whore at all.”
I lowered my head, and he patted my hand in the manner of an indulgent parent.
“It matters not, child. You’re under Sawford’s protection, which is good enough for me.”
I lifted my head and smiled. He was the first man since poor Percy who showed me genuine kindness.
“Get away from her, John!”
His wife stood in the doorway, Sawford beside her. She jabbed a finger at me.
“Leave my husband alone. Have you no shame?”
Sawford’s voice was smooth but his eyes betrayed his anger. “She will look for trade wherever she can, but I keep her in line.”
The smith began to argue, but I shook my head and rose from the table. His wife pushed the jar of salve toward me.
“Take it back, whatever it is.”
“But…”
“Do as she says,” Sawford barked. With trembling hands I picked up the jar, retreating to the back room. The woman’s shrill voice continued, berating me for tainting her home. Sawford joined in, apologizing for burdening them. Distraught at the injustice of it all, I curled up on the pallet, drawing the blanket over my head to shut out their voices.
After a while Sawford’s footsteps approached and a hand tugged at my blanket.
“Leave me be,” I pleaded.
“The smith and his wife have gone and won’t return until we leave. I will be gone a few hours. Do not leave this room.”
I covered myself in the blanket again.
