been known to fester.” A
faint smile curved his mouth, but his eyes were serious.
“I trust you,” she said.
“Then, come below. I'll want a couple of
candles for light, and some wine to wash the spot once the splinter
is out.”
“So much fuss for a mere sliver of wood?”
“Lady Lilianne,” he said gravely, “it's my
opinion that you are worth a great deal of fuss.”
Lilianne could not recall why she had thought
his eyes were cold and flinty when they were, in fact, warm and
shining with kindness. He pulled the wooden hatch open and
gestured. Obediently, she preceded him through the hatchway and
down the ladder.
Magnus escorted Lilianne past Braedon, who
grinned at her, and on to her small cabin. When he followed her
inside he was so big that he filled the cramped space. He looked
distinctly uncomfortable until he forced open the tiny
porthole.
“That's a little better,” he remarked. “At
least, now I can breathe.”
“I don't like small spaces, either,” she
said. “Perhaps it's because we are both large people.”
“Possibly.”
He stared at her, but she had the feeling
that he wasn't considering how tall she was, or her lushly rounded
figure in light of what she'd just said. Magnus was studying her
mouth.
Lilianne couldn't help herself; she moistened
lips gone dry under his intense gaze. She saw the sudden fire that
flared in his eyes before he turned to the door.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I'll find some
candles and a clean cloth for a bandage.”
Lilianne was so unnerved by the way he'd
looked at her that she didn't bother protesting yet another command
from him. She heard him speak to Braedon, and heard the door of the
next cabin open so he could exchange a few words with William. So
far as she could tell, nothing was changed in there and Erland
remained unconscious.
A single step took her to the open porthole.
All she could see was the sky and the ocean, and all she could hear
was the slap of water against the hull of the Daisy. She
breathed deeply of the cool outside air while she tried to calm her
confused emotions. She was still trying when Magnus returned.
He carried a tray on which rested two stubby
lighted candles, a pitcher, a wooden cup, and a folded linen
napkin.
“Take the candles,” he ordered. “The ship's
cook is certain I'm going to stumble and drop them and start a
fire.”
“There’s no table in here,” she pointed out,
lifting the candles off the tray. “You will have to set the tray on
the bunk. The candles, too, and that could be dangerous if they tip
over.”
“Then, you will have to sit very still, won’t
you?.” Balancing the tray on one hand, he used the other hand to
smooth the blanket covering the bunk, pressing down and flattening
the mattress until he was satisfied, before he put down the
tray.
Lilianne hadn't noticed the narrow shelf near
the head of the bunk. It was barely large enough for one of the
pewter candleholders, but it did have a raised edge to keep
whatever was set on the shelf from falling off when the ship
pitched. Magnus placed one candle on the shelf, after dripping some
wax onto the wood first, so the candleholder adhered to the wax and
stayed steady.
“Very clever,” Lilianne said.
“You will have to hold the second candle in
your right hand and shine it on your left thumb, so I'll have
enough light,” Magnus told her. “Can you do that, and not drop it,
even when I hurt you? For this is going to hurt.”
“Of course.” She wasn't sure she wouldn't
flinch, but she wasn't going to expose her possible cowardice to
Magnus.
“Sit down,” he ordered, pulling his eating
knife from its sheath at his belt, “and let me see the splinter
more clearly.”
She sat, being careful not to upset the wine
pitcher. Staring in fascination at the knife, she extended her left
hand.
“Hold the candle closer,” Magnus commanded.
“Now, don't move.”
She braced herself for pain, but she felt
nothing when the sharp tip of the
faint smile curved his mouth, but his eyes were serious.
“I trust you,” she said.
“Then, come below. I'll want a couple of
candles for light, and some wine to wash the spot once the splinter
is out.”
“So much fuss for a mere sliver of wood?”
“Lady Lilianne,” he said gravely, “it's my
opinion that you are worth a great deal of fuss.”
Lilianne could not recall why she had thought
his eyes were cold and flinty when they were, in fact, warm and
shining with kindness. He pulled the wooden hatch open and
gestured. Obediently, she preceded him through the hatchway and
down the ladder.
Magnus escorted Lilianne past Braedon, who
grinned at her, and on to her small cabin. When he followed her
inside he was so big that he filled the cramped space. He looked
distinctly uncomfortable until he forced open the tiny
porthole.
“That's a little better,” he remarked. “At
least, now I can breathe.”
“I don't like small spaces, either,” she
said. “Perhaps it's because we are both large people.”
“Possibly.”
He stared at her, but she had the feeling
that he wasn't considering how tall she was, or her lushly rounded
figure in light of what she'd just said. Magnus was studying her
mouth.
Lilianne couldn't help herself; she moistened
lips gone dry under his intense gaze. She saw the sudden fire that
flared in his eyes before he turned to the door.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I'll find some
candles and a clean cloth for a bandage.”
Lilianne was so unnerved by the way he'd
looked at her that she didn't bother protesting yet another command
from him. She heard him speak to Braedon, and heard the door of the
next cabin open so he could exchange a few words with William. So
far as she could tell, nothing was changed in there and Erland
remained unconscious.
A single step took her to the open porthole.
All she could see was the sky and the ocean, and all she could hear
was the slap of water against the hull of the Daisy. She
breathed deeply of the cool outside air while she tried to calm her
confused emotions. She was still trying when Magnus returned.
He carried a tray on which rested two stubby
lighted candles, a pitcher, a wooden cup, and a folded linen
napkin.
“Take the candles,” he ordered. “The ship's
cook is certain I'm going to stumble and drop them and start a
fire.”
“There’s no table in here,” she pointed out,
lifting the candles off the tray. “You will have to set the tray on
the bunk. The candles, too, and that could be dangerous if they tip
over.”
“Then, you will have to sit very still, won’t
you?.” Balancing the tray on one hand, he used the other hand to
smooth the blanket covering the bunk, pressing down and flattening
the mattress until he was satisfied, before he put down the
tray.
Lilianne hadn't noticed the narrow shelf near
the head of the bunk. It was barely large enough for one of the
pewter candleholders, but it did have a raised edge to keep
whatever was set on the shelf from falling off when the ship
pitched. Magnus placed one candle on the shelf, after dripping some
wax onto the wood first, so the candleholder adhered to the wax and
stayed steady.
“Very clever,” Lilianne said.
“You will have to hold the second candle in
your right hand and shine it on your left thumb, so I'll have
enough light,” Magnus told her. “Can you do that, and not drop it,
even when I hurt you? For this is going to hurt.”
“Of course.” She wasn't sure she wouldn't
flinch, but she wasn't going to expose her possible cowardice to
Magnus.
“Sit down,” he ordered, pulling his eating
knife from its sheath at his belt, “and let me see the splinter
more clearly.”
She sat, being careful not to upset the wine
pitcher. Staring in fascination at the knife, she extended her left
hand.
“Hold the candle closer,” Magnus commanded.
“Now, don't move.”
She braced herself for pain, but she felt
nothing when the sharp tip of the
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