Page 5 of A Troublesome Circumstance

She drew in a deep breath. “Very well. I am ready.”

“Hold still.”

Jude leaned forward, gently tilting her chin towards the light. Up close, he could see just how pale she was, a fine sheen of sweat glistening at her hairline. The gash wasn’t deep, but it bled freely. He dabbed at it with a damp cloth, earning a sharp hiss of pain.

“Apologies,” he murmured. “Would you prefer I let it fester?”

“No,” she said quickly, her voice tight. “Do what you must.”

He smiled faintly at that. She was braver than she looked. “Tell me,” he said as he brought the needle close, “what did you do last time to earn yourself stitches?”

Her eyes flickered, momentarily distant. “My brother dropped a looking glass when we were children. I stepped on a shard. It hurt something fierce.”

“Which was worse?” Jude asked, working the first stitch through her skin. “The glass or the sewing after?”

“Both.”

He chuckled. “You’re remarkably honest.”

She gave him a wary look. “Do you always laugh while torturing your patients?”

“Only the brave ones.” He tied off the thread and leaned back, satisfied. “There. Two stitches. Not my best work, but you’ll live. It’ll scar, though. Just not as badly.”

Tentatively, she reached up to touch the mended wound. “Thank you,” she murmured, genuine gratitude threading through her voice.

“You’re welcome,” Jude said simply.

The rain began then—a heavy, insistent drumming against the roof that deepened into a steady roar.

The young woman’s face fell as she glanced towards the window. “Of course it’s raining,” she muttered.

“You can stay until it lets up,” Jude offered.

Her reaction was immediate. She shot up from the chair so fast the knife clattered to the floor. “Absolutely not! I cannot remain here. Not alone. Not with you.”

Jude arched a brow, amused despite himself. “I hate to inform you, but you already are.”

“I must go.” She strode to the door, but when she wrenched it open, the cold, furious storm greeted her with a sheet of rain and a gust that blew the door wide.

“I won’t stop you,” Jude said behind her. He set the needle back in the box. “But if you walk out there now, you’ll have the fever by morning and if the cold doesn’t take you, the adders might.”

Her shoulders stiffened. Slowly, she turned back to him. “How do I know I can trust you to behave like a gentleman?”

“You don’t,” he admitted, meeting her gaze evenly. “But you have my word I mean you no harm.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Frankly, I don’t care if you do,” he said. “I have stew on the fire. You look half-famished. Stay long enough to eat, and then you may go as soon as the rain stops.”

At the mention of food, her hand pressed against her stomach, betraying her hunger before she could hide it. “I could eat.”

He gestured towards the armchair by the fire. “Sit. I’ll serve you.”

After a long moment, she closed the door against the storm and did as he asked. Jude took a blanket from the bed and draped it gently over her knees. She flinched at first, then whispered, “Thank you.”

He turned away, ladling the stew into a bowl, fighting the creeping awareness that what he was doing was sheer madness.

If anyone ever learned that he had harbored a strange woman alone in his cottage overnight, she would be ruined. And honor would demand he marry her.