The Ice Swan полностью

“On ne goloden.” Svetlana stood in the doorway. Hair twisted off her neck, she was still dressed in the clothing from yesterday, but the tear in her skirt had been repaired with dainty stiches that put his own suturing to shame. Then again, material was different from skin.

Wynn scrambled to his feet. “Good afternoon.”

She didn’t look at him as she continued in back-and-forth Russian with Mrs. Varjensky. Wynn stood awkwardly as the conversation flowed around him without bothering to include him. Mrs. Varjensky patted his stomach again, to which Svetlana finally looked at him.

“She thinks you’re too thin,” she said, those pale blue eyes with the slight tilt at the outer corners taking in everything.

“That’s something I’ve never been accused of. Handsome, funny, and charming, yes. I concede to those accusations, but never thin. My mother used to chide me for eating everything in the pantry before Cook had a chance to restock. I once ate an entire platter of game hens that were supposed to be reserved for a dinner party. Cook chased me around the kitchen for an hour with her wooden spoon.”

Her expression never changed but for a slight flicker behind her eyes calculating his words. At last she clasped her hands in front of her in the tell-tale sign of a polite apology. “I am sorry we do not have meat to offer you.”

So far he was losing the smile challenge. Miserably. “No, that’s not what I meant. Your hospitality has been very gracious. How do you say ‘thank you’ in Russian?”

“Spasibo.”

“Spasibo, babushka.”

Mrs. Varjensky grinned, revealing a gold tooth in place of her left canine. “Pozhaluysta.”

Steering back to safer waters, Wynn emptied out his pockets. “I’ve brought medicine and extra bandages, as my true purpose is to check on both of you.” Taking the ladle from Mrs. Varjensky before she had a chance to wield it further, Wynn directed her to the cushion.

Svetlana put out a graceful hand as if to stop him. “Doctor MacCallan. Your dedication is appreciated, but we can no longer indebt ourselves to your courtesy.”

“If that’s a polite way to say ‘get lost,’ I respectfully decline. At least until I’ve examined you both. If you get an infection, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me whether you want to or not.” He unwrapped the older woman’s hand and slanted it toward the tiny window for better light. A touch of red, but not like before. Reaching into the muslin bag he’d brought, he took out a swab and dipped it in the small bottle of iodine, then blotted it across the wound. She winced but let him finish without complaint.

“Did you manage with a pain relief of tea last night?” he asked as he bandaged the hand with fresh linen.

“Yes. We found the ingredients in the church’s garden. Mrs. Varjensky is very good at determining plants.”

“I suspect a healer would be. You are done, my lady.” Wynn patted the older woman’s wrist and helped her stand before turning to Svetlana. “Your turn.”

Sitting straight-backed on an overturned bucket, her head erect as if wearing a crown, Svetlana lifted her skirt as high as modesty would allow. Wynn knelt in front of her and pondered the best way to go about the examination. There was nothing for it now. Taking her foot, he propped it on his knee so that her leg was straight. She inhaled sharply but said nothing.

As a first-year medical student he couldn’t cease blushing when examining a female patient, but he’d quickly grown accustomed to the professional intimacy afforded between a physician and his patient. The human body was a wondrous creation of bone, sinew, muscle, and blood that moved in a rhythm designed to perfection. A miraculous universe contained within a single entity that he gave his life to study and heal. He’d examined limbs, arteries, and tissues in all manner of construction, but never had he seen one so lovely formed as the woman sitting before him now, inducing the tiniest bit of nerves to shoot through him.

Doing his best to ignore the slender ankle and well-defined calf muscle that was anything but a professional examination, he unwrapped the bandage. A bit more red than he would’ve liked, but it wasn’t spreading. No purulent discharge. Guilt stabbed him anew. If he hadn’t called out and frightened her, she never would have been hurt. Then again, he may never have met her either.

Cleansing the area and dabbing it with iodine, he placed fresh gauze over the wound and bandaged it. “A few more days and you should be able to leave the wrap off. It’s important for wounds to have fresh air, otherwise they don’t heal properly.” He lowered her foot to the floor.

She gracefully smoothed her skirts back into place. “How long before it is healed?”