The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,11

always been a fast healer.

“You…fixed me.” She couldn’t keep the awe from her voice.

The young woman’s expression was puzzled as she dipped a cloth in the washbasin on the stand near the dresser. Of course she would be expecting Finley to act as beastly as she had last night. “Yes. I did. I’m glad you left it alone this time.”

Finley smiled, hoping she looked friendly rather than demented. This girl was no threat to her and so that dark part of her was peaceful. “Thank you.”

“I’ve brought you breakfast.” She gestured to the doorway, where the large young man with longish black hair and rugged features stood holding a tray. Her dark self raised its head, but didn’t make a fuss. “And I would like to examine you, if that’s all right.”

So young and a doctor? It was impossible, of course, but that didn’t mean the Irish girl didn’t have a proper knowledge of medicine. After all, she had healed her wound. “Of course. Thank you for breakfast.”

“I’ll clean you up and we can talk while you eat.”

Finley’s smile was stronger now. She kept her attention focused on the girl while watching her companion from the corner of her eye. “I’d like that.” She felt something of a kinship with this girl. Girls didn’t normally like her, and young men tended to like her in ways she didn’t want. She didn’t understand why because it wasn’t as though she was uncommonly beautiful or anything.

The girl didn’t look like she was convinced of her sincerity, but she came closer all the same. “If you try to hurt me, he’ll stop you. Understand?”

The smile melted from Finley’s lips and slipped down her throat to form a hard knot. She nodded, not daring to glance at the grim-looking young man.

She sat still while her companion wiped her forehead and face, trying not to notice how much blood stained the cloth, turning it rusty. She was given another warm, wet length of linen to wash her hands. They were stained, as well.

Finley swallowed. “I must apologize for my behavior last night. I was not myself.”

“No?” A high, red brow arched against the girl’s pale forehead as she took both cloths away. “Who were you, then? A Changeling perhaps?” She had a beautiful, lyrical Irish accent.

“I’m not sure,” Finley replied with a frown, watching her walk away. Was she teasing her, or did she honestly believe she might be a Faerie trying to pass as human?

The girl dropped the soiled cloths back into the basin, turned and walked to the dresser. She rummaged through a small leather kit and pulled out something that looked like a perfume bottle. “I’m going to give you another treatment, just to make sure you continue to heal. I promise it won’t annoy you like it did last night. You can eat, as well.”

Finley blushed, unable to contain a rush of humiliation. “Of course.” She pushed herself up farther on the pillows to be more accommodating and so she would be able to eat. The movement apparently startled the girl because she jerked back and dropped the bottle. It landed on the floor with a loud thump.

“Ah, blast! It went beneath the dresser.”

Before the girl could bend down to stick her hand underneath the piece of furniture, the dark-haired young man was there. He set the tray on the bed and then went to the dresser, bending down. How he expected to find the mechanism with those big hands of his, Finley didn’t know. But then she realized he had only reached underneath to get a good hold. When he straightened, the large, heavy piece came with him, held between his two hands with ease.

No man was that strong. Even in her “altered” state she couldn’t come close to that kind of easy strength.

“Astounding,” Finley whispered, staring at him in open awe.

The other girl smiled then, as though she couldn’t help herself. “This coming from a girl who tossed a footman like a sack of potatoes.” Quickly, she bent down and retrieved the item. “Thank you, Sam.”

He said nothing, merely glanced at her before setting the furniture back in its proper place. The girl made a point of not looking at him, but her pale cheeks turned red.

“My name is Finley,” she said when once again her nursemaid attended her. “Who are you?”

The girl hesitated, her fingers wrapped around the depression bulb of the atomizer. Whatever the reservoir contained, it smelled of rosemary and something earthy—like dirt. She didn’t quite