Silas set down her valise and immediately began preparing the stove.
“Take off your cloak,” he said. “You’re wet.”
Clara hesitated.
He noticed.
“I’ll turn around.”
She removed the cloak and draped it over the back of a chair.
Silas fed kindling into the stove, opened the damper, and coaxed a flame from the tinder. The fire caught slowly, then brightened as he added split wood.
Clara stood near the table, shivering.
“Sit,” he said.
She lowered herself into the chair.
Silas filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. Then he fetched a wool blanket from a storage chest and set it beside her.
“Wrap up.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at her soaked skirt.
“Your boots are full of water.”
“I know.”
“Get them off before the cold stiffens them.”
Clara struggled with the laces.
Her fingers were clumsy, and the wet leather had tightened around her ankles. Silas watched for a moment, then crouched nearby.
“May I help?”
She looked at him, uncertain.
He waited.
After a moment, she nodded.
He loosened the laces without touching her skin, then eased the boots away and placed them beside the stove.
Her stockings were soaked.
Clara drew her feet beneath the chair, suddenly embarrassed.
Silas turned his back.
“There’s a dry pair of wool socks in that chest. They’re mine, so they’ll be large, but they’ll keep you warm.”
“I couldn’t wear your clothes.”
“You can wear cold feet if you prefer.”
She almost smiled.
Then a sharp, painful sensation began spreading through her toes.
She gasped.
Silas turned.
“What is it?”
“My feet.”
He crouched beside her, keeping his hands to himself.
“Are they numb?”
“Yes. I can barely feel them.”
“Don’t put them directly against the stove. Let them warm slowly.”
The pain sharpened, crawling across her toes and into the soles of her feet.
Clara clenched her jaw.
“I thought warming up would make it better.”
“It will. But it can hurt while the feeling returns.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
The pain was unlike anything she had known. It seemed to burn through the bones of her feet, and each pulse of warmth brought another wave of stinging sensation.
Silas moved a little closer, careful not to crowd her.
“Breathe slowly.”
She tried.
The next surge made her cry out.
Without thinking, she seized his leather belt with both hands.
Silas froze.
Clara looked down, horrified by her own desperation.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
He unfastened the belt at once and slipped it free.
Then he placed the loose leather in her hands.
“Hold this.”