Chapter 9 #2
“No.” But I didn’t know what else to say. We’d never discussed wages. Baz couldn’t offer her a contract, not without leaving a nice paper trail if Clinemell’s lawyers ever got involved. “Baz hasn’t mentioned anything. For right now, he just thinks it’s important to keep you away from Clinemell.”
At that, her giant green eyes appeared to glimmer.
“I think so too,” I quickly added, though I didn’t know why. No one ever asked my opinion. But I wanted her to know that I also thought it was right that she not go back to Clinemell Manor. It felt important that she know Baz and I were a united front in that regard.
Gretel stared a hole in me. It burned me differently from when I’d watched her wash between her thighs. That was just an act of cleanliness. Of soap and germs.
This look was. . . warmer.
And I didn’t understand why.
My hands curled into fists, and I didn’t even remember the tray I’d brought in as I turned toward the door.
“I’ll check in on you later,” I promised, over my shoulder.
“I got the ointment,” Baz said later that day, holding it up proudly.
I frowned. “When did you get that?”
Evening had fallen, and I hadn’t noticed him leave.
“When you were furiously scrubbing the kitchen floor for some reason.”
He picked my hand up, which I immediately tried to take away. He ran his thumb over the red, rough skin before bringing it to his lips.
I’d like to have told him we didn’t have time for kisses, but even in that moment, I could have admitted I wanted him still. Even with Gretel’s earlier words in my mind.
Everyone sleeps with their staff.
Here I was, no better than the next girl.
Was I deluding myself by thinking Baz Coldwell actually wanted me? What man didn’t want easy access to a woman in bed?
Baz had run his hand over my bare ass, but he touched me in other ways too.
He made me laugh when all I wanted to do was fret over the housekeeping. The evenings were no longer dark and bleak thanks to our time in the library.
His hand tightened around mine, keeping it pressed to his lips. “You all right, fairy?”
I nodded, but didn’t shrink back when he pulled me in for a hug.
“I love how caring you are,” he said. “You’ve treated your patient well.”
The memory of Gretel washing between her legs caused my breath to hitch.
I pulled back. “You found the apple turnovers didn’t you?”
He grinned widely and tugged a strand of my hair. I rolled my eyes but let him tease. “If you’re not careful I might start thinking you care about me.”
His eyes darkened as he ran his gaze over me, knowing exactly what I wasn’t wearing underneath my dress.
I grabbed the ointment pot out of his hands and marched up the stairs.
“Wait for me!” The servants’ stairs creaked under his boots.
“For what?” I called over my shoulder.
“I’ll help.”
I snorted, but when I arrived at Gretel’s door, I hadn’t lost him.
“I’ll help,” he said again and scooped the pot out of my hand. He turned the door handle without waiting for my reply.
I remember my face freezing. My lips parted as I watched Baz stride into the room, his usual cheerful self.
Gretel sat up in bed, the sheet covering her chest. But if I looked hard, I swore I saw the hard peaks of her nipples.
Baz neared the bed, unbothered. He held up the ointment, Gretel’s green eyes staring at it in amazement.
“Just for you,” he offered, holding it out flat on his hand.
I snatched it. “Lie on your stomach, I’ll apply it.”
Gretel’s gaze went from me to Baz.
He’d seen her body. He’d carried her to the house and helped me peel her bloodied dress off her. Watched me tend to her flesh.
We didn’t say anything, we didn’t make it into anything.
Gretel turned, pressing her chest flat to the mattress. I pulled the sheet down her body, draping it just over the round globes of her ass.
Baz crouched beside Gretel, pulling an errant curl off her shoulder.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
I unscrewed the cap, my fingers digging into the white cream. It buzzed with the subtle hum of pricey magic. Gently, I began to apply it.
“Be still,” I told Gretel, who had nodded at Baz’s question. She stopped moving immediately, her chin resting on her arms, which were crossed under her head.
“I want you to know you’ll always have a place here,” Baz told her.
My fingers smoothed the balm along her skin. She sucked in a breath.
Baz heard it. “Ticklish?” he asked with a wolfish smile. She dipped her head, her eyes peeking up through her lashes.
“Thank you.” Her words came quietly.
Baz inclined his head to the side. “Of course,” he said, all serious. “It’s hardly like I’d throw you back to that man.”
I stopped myself from clearing my throat. From telling him not to bring up Rufus. He’d be a thorn in our side. I already knew we wouldn’t be able to escape him. But Baz didn’t need to bring the man up now.
Gretel didn’t cry. Or wiggle. She simply stared at him.
“Do you think I’ve been bad?” she asked. “Wystle thinks I’ve been bad.”
My fingers hovered over her back.
“Does she now?” Baz hummed under his breath like he was amused. Gretel’s question was a serious one, though. “No, Gretel. I don’t think you’ve been bad. I think that lies with Rufus. Do you think you’ve been bad?”
I wish I could’ve seen her face as she answered, but I was closer to her legs, forcing myself to apply the balm to her skin.
“If I was, I didn’t mean to be,” she murmured.
Baz brushed back a strand of her hair. “Rufus was terrible to you, but you won’t find his type of punishment in this household. At least not without a safe word.”
I’m not sure what was hotter, Gretel’s inflamed skin or my cheeks.
Safe words belonged to the dirty books I read. I’d certainly never encountered them before. At least not until Baz.
Gretel let out a breath of air. Not quite a titter, but something close enough. They smiled at one another, sharing some insider knowledge while I sat on the edge of the bed, applying ointment to Gretel’s back.
I forced my gaze away, applying a glob of the stuff and rubbing it in. My hands lowered, tracing the line where her lower back met with her ass. Lower and lower I wanted to go, not that there were any more scars to cover.
I’d never come face to face with a naked woman until I met Gretel. Twice now I’d played her nursemaid, and this was the thanks I got? Her, flirting with Baz. My Baz.
The urge to slide my hand across her round ass and pinch her hard slammed into me.
I didn’t look away from the ointment in my hands. A deep breath left me as I tried to steady on.
Baz would flirt with a tree if it let him. And what man in this town hadn’t commented on Gretel’s looks?
I finished applying the cream to her back. She’d be perfect in a few days. No physical reminders of Rufus’s brutality.
But the thing about Gretel, the thing that truly got under my skin, was that scars or not, she’d have been perfect anyway.
And it wouldn’t be long before Baz knew it too.