Abigail dipped her finger in the bowl of steamy water and swirled it into warm circles. Since his fever had broken, William was lucid but healing slowly. A little grooming might perk his spirits and speed along his recovery. Her attention dropped to the purple blemishes on her wrists. Three marks like plum stains dotted the skin near the heel of her hand. His strength was certainly not in question.

“Will you need anything else?” Hannah asked and glanced at the bed then back to her.

Abigail pulled the sheath from the straight razor and flicked the blade lightly across the top of her wrist. Wispy hairs floated to the floor. She raised a brow at the occupant in the bed, who pressed back against the pillows. Smothering a giggle, she said, “I think I have everything I need to complete the job.”

“Nabby. I am perfectly capable of shaving myself,” William flicked a glance toward Hannah, who chuckled and left the room.

Abigail positioned a stool at the head of the bed, chair legs screeched across the floor. His head jerked back like a sprung trap as she placed the bowl, shaving powder, and a wad of linen on its seat in full view. Morning sunlight floated across her workstation, and she stared down, brows drawing together. Not certain if she missed anything imperative, she shrugged. It seemed like everything was in order.

He shifted to a seated position, his attention bounced over each item then widened. “What's the extra cloth for?”

She flipped a towel across her shoulder and slid into a chair next to the bed. “That?” she asked, pointing to the guiltless clump. “Oh, that's nothing. At least, I hope I won't have need for it.” She searched absently for a leather strap, sliding things back and forth until a black tip peeked out from beneath the cloth. Snatching it up like a prize goose, she handed it to him and pulled the other end taut. “Then again,” the blade swished back and forth across the band, sunlight flickering like sparks. “I have never shaved a man before and thought it best to not take chances.”

The leash fell from his hand, and he turned two shades paler.

Taking the limp strap as a sign the blade was sharp, she drizzled a handful of water into a cup, dissolving the powder then whipped it into a frothy lather. White suds billowed upward, and she cupped the bowl near his cheek. He flinched with each clatter of the brush. She hadn't meant to terrorize him with her plan, but had to admit, his uneasiness did give her an odd, satisfying sense of retribution.

Still pale, he opened his mouth but snapped it closed when she heaped blotches of cream on his face. Warm froth trickled down her fingers, dripping onto her skirt. Laughter bubbled within her. At this rate, she would need a fresh change of clothes.

“Oops, sorry. Let me get that.” She dabbed at the corner of one eye while he glared at her with the other. As close as she came to never seeing those blue eyes again, he could glower all he wanted. She sat back, twisting the blade back and forth, sunlight glinting down the lethal edge. His eyes closed and his lips moved slightly, she assumed he prayed for a painless death.

He reached toward her and she pulled away. “Uh-uh,” she said and pointed to the bruises on her wrists. “You owe me.”

“Was my apology insufficient? You demand half a stone of flesh as well?” He drew her wrist to his lips, offering a kiss as possible amends.

She sighed, the heat of his mouth melting her resolve. He did not play fair. “I demand all thirteen stones of you, thank you.” She leaned forward and squished her lips against his, coming away with a lathered beard of her own.

The glint in his eyes warned her to drop the razor. It barely fell from her grasp before he grabbed her and pinned her to him. Shaving soap mixed with the taste of him and she welcomed his kiss. She stretched out beside him but attempted to leverage her weight off his chest. He pulled her tighter, oblivious to the fresh blood splotching his bandage.

Instinctively, she reached for the saturated cloth and fidgeted with the corners of the wrapping. He pushed her fingers away. Clearly he was unconcerned.

“Like I said, I'm completely capable.”

The feel of her hip resting against him made her aware he spoke of more than shaving, but she was convinced that would be the case no matter how weak his health.

Summoning her most authoritative voice, she said, “Of basic needs perhaps, but you'll need to wait for other things.”

“Madam, needs come no baser than this.”

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