The old cook had removed Ian’s coat and covered her with a clean sheet. “I don’t feel right washin’ down such personal parts, boss. I ain’t no doctor. It don’t seem fittin’ touchin’ her there.”“It’s good of you to respect the lady’s modesty, Roy, but if we don’t get her cleaned up, she’ll surely die. Those bites look angry.”“Ya’ve got blood on yer coat. If I don’t tend to it right away, it’ll stick,” the old cook whined.Ian heaved a sigh. “Okay. You tend to my coat and I’ll clean the girl up as best I can.”“I’ll wash her for ya, boss,” said a young man who Ian had yet to be formally introduced to. By the lecherous look in his eyes, Ian knew he’d have to refuse the help.“You men get back to business. I’ll tend to things here. Let me
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