Rather than answer, Hunter placed a hand on the small of her back and ushered her into a small parlor that looked to have gone unused for years. Most of the furniture was shrouded in dust covers, and the rest was covered in dust. He pulled the cloths off two chairs and led her to one. “Sit down. Let me see your shoulder.”
“It’s only a scratch,” she insisted. “And I need to clean up the vase before someone trips over it.” She moved to stand, only to have him nudge her back in the chair.
“Wait here.”
It took him less than a minute to step out into the hall, pick up the pieces of the vase and return to dump them into an empty planter by the window.
“Now,” he said pointedly, taking the seat across from her and pulling it forward until their knees brushed. “Let me have a look.” He drew her hand away from her shoulder. “It’s a nasty cut, Kate.”
Frowning, she watched as Hunter carefully widened the tear in her gown, exposing the wound. It was a bit nastier than she’d realized. It was nearly two inches long and seeping more than she’d realized. She felt a trickle of warmth slide down her arm. “It’s not very deep, is it?”
He refolded the linen to produce a clean square. “It should be all right.”
“Should be?” That wasn’t the most encouraging assessment of an injury that one could hope to hear.
He tenderly dabbed at the blood around the cut. “It’s a clean slice, that helps.”
“Helps?” She traded frowning at her shoulder for frowning at the top of his bent head. “You’re not very good at this sort of thing, are you? Atrocious, really.”
He glanced up at her. “Would you rather I lie?”
“Well, no, but couldn’t you…I don’t know, soften the truth a smidge?”
His lips twitched, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think we can save your arm.”
“Atrocious was too generous a description.”
“You’ll be fine, Kate.” He took the hand of her uninjured arm and lifted it to place a kiss against her palm. “All right?”
The warmth of that kiss spread along her skin, bringing on a slight case of nerves. She found that rather annoying as she hadn’t forgotten he’d called her honor into question. Carefully, she pulled her hand away. “Yes. All right.”
Hunter nodded. “Good. Think you can sit still while I remove the shard?”
Warmth, nerves, and annoyance were immediately, and thoroughly, brushed aside by shock. “What?”
“The…you didn’t notice, did you?” He winced sympathetically. “You’ve a shard of porcelain in the cut, sweetheart. It needs to come out.”
“It doesn’t. I don’t.” She twisted her neck in an effort to better see her wound. Oh, good heavens she did. She’d been distracted by the size of the cut and the blood coming from it and had not seen the small piece of ivory porcelain caught in the corner of the wound. How buried? she wondered uneasily. How small? It was difficult to tell from the angle of her perspective.
“Is it very large?”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
How could he be sure? For all either of them knew, the piece was buried an inch deep. But that would hurt more, wouldn’t it? It hurt now, to be sure, but not terribly. “I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt more.”
“I’m afraid it’s going to hurt a little more when I take it out.”
“Oh.” She grimaced. “Yes, I imagine it will.” Blast.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised and pulled out his leather satchel once more to retrieve something small and metal.
She turned away, quite certain the experience would not be enhanced by knowing precisely what the tool was, nor what he was going to do with it. Biting her lip, she concentrated instead on sitting perfectly still as he began to prod at the wound.
“You’ll tell me first?” she asked wincing at a sharp sting. “Before you pull it out?”
Keeping the tool in place, he leaned over suddenly and brushed his lips softly across hers. “Of course I will.”
The warmth spread quickly this time, before anger and annoyance had any say in the matter. “I…”
He pulled the shard out with a quick draw of his hand.
The pain of it was absolutely stunning. She jerked, cried out, and swatted at him. “Oh, ow! Oh, you rotter!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He crooned to her as she rocked in her seat, gripping her shoulder above the wound and hissing through her teeth in pain. “I’m sorry. Shhh, it’s done.”