Chapter 4 TalkFight #2
“He’s bleeding,” she said at last, nodding towards the training field below.
Sure enough, the pinkish stripe on his arm had blossomed to a vivid red, the material stuck to his skin.
“Go down there and see to it. Call it an order, if ye like,” Freya added, pushing away from the parapet and leaving Senga behind.
Noah’s expression changed when he glanced away from the men he was training and saw Senga standing there. His gaze dropped slowly to the bandages and pot of green paste she held in her hands.
“Lady Grahame’s orders,” Senga said, before he could venture a word. “We saw the blood on yer shirt from up on the parapet.”
Noah said nothing, but his gaze traveled from her to the parapet behind her. Senga hoped that he didn’t think she had been watching him. She had, but she didn’t want him to think it.
“I cannot defy Lady Grahame,” he answered at last. “Come over here, we’ll have some quiet.”
He led the way over to the parapet, which was hollowed and paved underneath.
Piles of supplies lay there—shields, boots, weapons, stacks of folded tartan, barrels of water and wine, everything a person could think of.
Noah wrenched off his shirt as if he were angry with it, not even wincing when the dried blood on his sleeve pulled at his injured arm, and sat down heavily on a barrel.
He said nothing as Senga approached, keeping his eyes on her as if she were a wolf prowling closer.
His chest glistened with sweat, and she could hear that his breathing was more laborious than before.
Goosebumps broke out on his skin when her fingers brushed his arm, but that could have simply been from the cold air.
He didn’t want to admit that Senga still had such an effect on him.
Keeping her eyes on her task, Senga neatly stripped away the bloodied bandage. It tugged painfully on his skin when she peeled away the final layer, and a muscle jumped in Noah’s cheek again.
“Sorry,” Senga murmured, out of habit. “It will sting a little.”
His nostrils flared. “I’m not in pain, woman.”
Senga met his gaze and lifted her eyebrows. “I am a healer now, remember? I’ve spent years caring for injured men and women. I’ve seen injuries like this a thousand times. Ye can be as tough as ye like, but I know what hurts and what doesn’t.”
He said nothing in response, and she worked quickly, applying a new layer of the green paste.
“I am not a weak man,” Noah stated at last, choosing his words carefully.
Senga kept her eyes on her work. Blood was clotting in the wound, which was good. That was the first part of the healing process, but he had somehow managed to reopen the scab in the middle. No doubt he’d been careless with his movements, swinging his arm around and lifting things.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” she responded coolly. “I did nae say ye were weak. I said that it must hurt. Ye are not weak, it’s true, but ye are certainly a stubborn fool. If ye continue swinging this arm around like ye were down there, this gash will not heal, and then where will ye be?”
She began reapplying the bandages around his arm, his warm skin flinching under her touch.
She tried not to touch him more than was necessary, more for her own sake than his.
If she touched him too much, she might start to imagine what it would be like to slide her hand up to his broad shoulders or down his forearms to where his wide, work-roughened hands flexed on his knees.
“If I am a fool, then ye should know better than to provoke me,” Noah responded sharply. “Nobody ever knows how a fool will react.”
Senga gave a short laugh. “Then at least I would get a reaction from ye. At this point, I’ll take what I can get.”
She had barely tied the knot in the bandages before Noah whisked his arm away. Jumping to his feet, he hauled his shirt over his head and rounded on her, eyes blazing.
Senga realized, to her own shock, that she’d made him angry.
“Ye will get nothing from me,” Noah snapped. “I owe ye nothing.”
The unfairness of it all made her eyes sting.
“I never said ye did! I’ll tell ye once more, Noah, do not put words in my mouth.
I am not claiming that ye owe me a thing, I only want to get to the bottom of all this.
Yer refusal to speak to me in itself is strange.
Are ye surprised that I am confused? Why will ye not speak to me?
Do ye think that avoiding me will make me disappear? ”
He let out a low growl, spun on his heels, and strode away. Buoyed up by the injustice of it all, Senga hurried after him. To keep up with his long strides, she was obliged to jog after him.
“Why are ye doing this, Noah?”
“I could ask ye the same,” he responded, not even looking back at her. “Why can ye not leave me be? It’s better that way.”
“No, it is not! And will ye slow down, for heaven’s sake?”
In response, Noah stopped dead, rounding on her. His eyes blazed, glittering with what surely could not be tears. He growled, low in his throat, and leaned forward until his nose almost brushed hers.
“Why did ye not go back with the others to the convent, Senga?” he whispered, voice catching on her name.
She swallowed thickly, tilting up her chin and forcing herself to meet his gaze.
Once, she’d made a game out of counting the colors in his eyes.
It wasn’t just brown and black, no, no. There were streaks of amber, gold, and even flecks of gray in there, to say nothing of a myriad shades of brown, from the palest sand all the way to the color of oak bark, and then onwards until the brown became black.
Those days seemed to have been a hundred years ago.
“Ye ask me why I stayed? Why do ye think?” she managed at last, her voice coming out as a tired whisper.
Noah blinked, almost seeming taken aback. He drew in a ragged breath, and for a moment, she thought he was going to speak again. Instead, he shook his head tightly, straightened up, and stormed away.
She followed him in silence until he reached the stables. He strode inside, never missing a beat, but Senga skidded to a halt at the threshold.
The scent of horses and fresh hay filled her senses, and she could almost taste the copper tang of blood in the air.
Noah paused, almost swallowed up by the gloom inside.
“That’s it, Senga,” he said, his voice heavy with bitterness. His eyes no longer soft, but dark and angry. “Ye stay outside, in the clean, fresh air. Leave me to the darkness and the blood. Ye’re good at it anyway.”
Then he moved further inside, the shadows eating him up completely.
“Noah!” Senga cried, but there was no response.