Chapter 4 #2
Silence entered the room. ’Twas a good sign. At least she hadn’t yet skewered him to the wall as earlier suggested. But if he gave in to his yearnings, she might do so yet. Thus, he cleared his throat and stepped back a pace, lest he fall victim to his nether parts’ foolish urgings.
“We have little choice here,” he said. “The wound must be cleaned and tended.”
She didn’t speak, but turned to glance over her shoulder at him.
Thick, deep gold lashes fringed her quicksilver eyes, and her hair, long as his forearm, fell over her shoulder in a cascade of sunlight.
Her shoulders were as smooth and pale as winter’s first snow, and below the bandages, her waist was as small and curved as the bend of an hourglass.
But it was not just those stunning elements of femininity that made the breath squeeze shut in his chest. It was the striking contrast of the warrior and the maiden, for though her skin looked as creamy as a babe’s, below she was encased in scarred leather.
Her bottom was round and firm. Her legs were as long as a blooded mare’s, starting at the provocative V and sloping down to where her battered boots rose above her knees.
Beneath his plaid, his desire stirred restlessly. He cleared his throat, and then they spoke at once.
“Listen—”
“Do—”
“What?” they said in unison.
He took a deep breath and carefully held her gaze. Aye, one would think it would be safe to stare at her back, but one would be entirely wrong, for even now his desire was whispering foolhardy things to his foolhardy brain.
“Mayhap you should employ the aid of another,” he suggested.
“What’s that?” she asked, and scowled. The curve of her cheek was hidden by a wave of flaxen hair, and somehow the sight of that alone was nearly his undoing.
He swallowed hard. “I am not greatly gifted as a healer. Perhaps I should send someone else to examine you.”
“And have another man discover me true—”
“Man!” The word escaped him without warning.
Her brows rose abruptly. He scowled and began anew.
“Nay. The bindings will have to be removed, therefore I assumed you would want . . .” He paused, rephrasing wildly in his mind.
“That is to say, I thought a woman would be more . . . knowledgeable in the ways of herbs and the like.”
“A woman?”
“Aye, you could . . . remove the rest of your clothing.” He truly hoped his voice didn’t squeak when he spoke, but he felt like an untried boy, hard and needy and aching with hopeless desire.
“You could tell her you fell. There would be no reason for her to know you were aught but a misfortunate maid who had—”
“But I came here in the guise of a man.”
A man! With an arse like that? No one in his right mind would believe such foolishness.
The fact that he had made it no more believable.
The thought almost made him laugh, but he was finding it difficult to breathe, so laughing was out of the question, and it was a good thing too, because regardless of the delicious curve of her buttocks, she did not seem to possess a woman’s renowned ability to forgive.
“Aye,” he agreed, and took a cautious step backward, putting a bit of judicious distance between himself and the temptation that was her.
“Aye, you did that, but no maid saw you enter. I could tell them that the man I came here with was . . . in the stable and that I had a . . . companion who needed—”
“A companion? From where?” she asked. “Everyone in Jedburgh will know their own citizens. Nay.” She shook her head. “’Twill never work.”
“But . . .” He was starting to sweat. Holy Mother! He’d followed her afoot for many a league and had not felt this winded. But her buttocks were as curved and sweet as a ripe apple and her waist all but begged for his touch.
“Is it so hideous then?”
“What’s that?” he asked, and snapped his gaze to her eyes.
There was worry there and the first glimmer he’d seen of true fear. “The wound,” she said. “’Tis bad, that is why you’ve no wish to tend it.”
“Nay,” he said and shook his head. “’Tis not that, lass, lad. Indeed, I can barely see it, bound as it is. ’Tis simply that . . .” He ran out of words.
“What?”
“I’ll fetch help,” he said, and turned with rapid relief toward the door.
“Nay.”
He stopped abruptly, bumping into his erection.
“You are a man of arms. Certainly you’ve see the like of this before.”
Turning, he let his gaze fall to the breathtaking curve of her buttocks. No, actually he hadn’t, he thought, and tried not to wince.
“You’re not squeamish about blood, are you?” she asked, and turned slowly toward him.
“Nay,” he said, but his tone may have been less than convincing.
She stared at him for a moment. “Good then. You can see to it.”
He still delayed.
“Or I will care for it meself.”
He drew a deep breath through his nostrils and chastised himself.
What the devil was wrong with him? Aye, restraint might not be his finest quality, but surely he could resist her.
After all, she was practically a man, he remembered, and made himself look directly at her.
It was a bad idea, for she looked no more masculine from the front than from the rear.
Indeed, standing there with her arms crossed against her bound chest, she looked as vulnerable as a child and as provocative as a siren.
How could he have known that a woman trained to battle would only increase his yearning?
“MacGowan?” she said, her tone suggesting that he had been lost somewhere.
He spurred his gaze to hers.
“Nay. Nay,” he said. “I . . . I will see to it.” He nodded, but somehow he couldn’t quite make himself cross the floor back to her, for if he did he couldn’t be certain of his actions.
“Very well then,” she said and uncrossing her arms, pulled her sgian dubh, sheath and all, from its hiding place. Dropping it to the floor, she found the place where the end of the cloth was tucked beneath the tightly wrapped bands. She tugged it free, then began to unwrap the bindings.
Lachlan held his breath as her fair skin was uncovered, and then she winced.
He spurred his gaze to her face and saw the pain etched there.
Sweet mother, he was a dolt.
“Me apologies,” he said, but his tone was strained. “You need help.”
“Nay.” Her voice was firm as she continued the process, but then she winced again and paused in her task to exhale softly. “Aye,” she said, her tone softened. With her eyes downcast, she turned her back toward him. “Help would be appreciated.”