Chapter 3
Three
Sin heard the latch on his door rattle. Instinctively, he pulled the dagger from his boot and balanced it between his thumb and forefinger, waiting to see if it needed to fly into the chest of whomever was trespassing.
The door opened a hair to show him a pert little nose followed by the profile of an angel. An angel who paused while she stared at the wall opposite of him.
“Sir? Sir Bl... Knight? Are you in here?”
Sin tucked the knife back into his boot. “Given how this is my room, where else would I be?”
She still hadn’t looked inside, and she chose to ignore his sarcasm. “Are you decent?”
Sin snorted. “There are many, milady, who say I haven’t a decent bone in my entire body.”
“And there are many who say it’s drafty here in the hallway. What I want to know is, are you dressed?”
“I’m as dressed as I was the last time you saw me which means you should go back to your room, posthaste.”
She didn’t. Instead, she opened the door wider, and to his immediate dismay, stepped inside.
Her gaze scanned the room until she found him, sitting on the bed.
And when those light green eyes focused on his bare chest, Sin could swear he felt a riveting shock from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head.
Worse, his groin drew tight and hot with a need so profound that he actually ached from it.
What the devil was the matter with him? He wasn’t some callow youth to swell at the sight of some winsome maid. He had conquered his body and his lust long ago.
But for some reason, his control slipped every time she came near him. Worse was the knowledge that she could be his. All he had to do was go to Henry and he could have her.
If he dared such...
Oblivious to the havoc she caused him, she crossed the floor to stand in front of the bed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply.
She took his words in stride. “I’m here to tend the wounds I caused.”
Sin fingered the makeshift bandage on his left arm. It was far from a perfect wrap, but it would suffice.
Besides, the last thing he needed was for her to come any closer to him than she already was.
“Then you have no fear, milady. You weren’t the cause of my wounds.”
She frowned. “You didn’t get them when you disarmed me?”
“Aye, but it wasn’t your actions that caused them so much as my own.”
She waved his words away with her hand. Without his permission, she set a dark brown leather bag and a small basket on the bed beside him next to the piece of white linen he’d been using for bandages.
“You’re arguing just for the sake of it, and I shan’t listen anymore. Now stop your fussing and let me see about those wounds before they fester and rot your arms off. Even though it might serve you right.”
Sin stared at her incredulously. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had dismissed him so flippantly, but he was relatively sure he must have been in swaddling when it happened.
She reached for his right arm.
He quickly moved it out of her grasp.
“Why would you care whether or not my arms rotted off?”
She again tried to capture his arm.
Sin grunted as he actually had to struggle to keep her at bay. “I should think you would be wishing for it as opposed to trying to prevent it.”
She paused and gave him a peeved glare over the fact that he wouldn’t hold still for her. “Because you saved Jamie.”
“And you think you owe me?”
“Aye.”
He snorted again. The foolishness women could get into their heads. Still, it was the first time in his life anyone had ever wanted to tend a wound of his. He found it strangely comforting, and that thought made him angry.
Sin didn’t need comfort. Ever.
Needing to put some distance between them, he shot to his feet.
She pursued him across the room like a herding lioness.
“My lady, if you had any idea who and what I was, you’d know better than to be alone with me in my room.”
Her eyes fluttered to his face and for the first time, he saw a bit of reservation. Then, she reached again for his arm.
Sin groaned out loud as he realized she wouldn’t leave him alone until he submitted to her treatments.
Fine then, the sooner she wrapped his arm, the sooner he could return to peace.
Ever a reluctant patient, he made a grand showing of stretching his right arm out to her.
‘Thank you’ was evident in her eyes as she gingerly pressed her fingertips to the wound.
“I do know who you are,” she said softly as she examined the cut. “Aelfa told me all about you.”
“And what did she say?”
To his dismay, she held his fist in one hand while the long, graceful fingers of her right hand glided over his hot skin with a soothing coolness that seemed to reach far deeper than just his flesh. Worse, it sent a rush of heat straight to his groin that burned and throbbed with need.
Sin held his breath as strange and foreign sensations swept through his entire body. No one had ever touched him so gently. So kindly.
But the most terrifying of all was the sudden need he felt to reach out, cup her head in his hands, and pull her lips to his own.
By the very saints, what was wrong with him?
All he could do was stare at her like some besotted ape as he struggled to keep his breathing even and normal.
She bent her head ever so slightly down as she studied the cut. “This one is not so deep, but it still needs a poultice if it’s to heal without festering.” Her long, tapered fingers continued to brand his skin with unfamiliar kindness. “This burn scar looks fairly new. Is it from battle?”
Sin shook his head, but didn’t elaborate. There was no need in going into the events that had caused that particular injury.
Besides, it was all he could do to just stand there calmly and not pull her into his arms as an image of her lying beneath him tore through his mind.
She turned to head back to his bed where she had left her accouterments.
He stared at her trim back, but it was her hips that held the most appeal for him.
Well-shaped and round, they beckoned a man in a way most carnal.
Indeed, he could easily imagine walking up behind her, lifting the hem of her dress and burying himself deep inside her until he fully sated the fire in his groin.
“My wounds are fine,” Sin snapped, wanting her out of his room immediately.
She looked over her shoulder, glared at him, then looked back down and continued digging out some noxious-smelling plant as if she didn’t care one fig for what he’d said.
The woman was mad. Insane! Completely and utterly moonstruck. No one disregarded him when he spoke. No one.
So rare was this that Sin had no idea how to deal with it.
After a few seconds, she straightened from the bed. “I need wine. Have you any?”
“Nay,” he lied.
It didn’t work. She spied a flagon on the table by the hearth.
Going to it, she quickly learned it was far from empty and Sin wished he had drank the whole of it the night before.
She gave him a smarting stare, then poured a goblet of it.
Sin narrowed his eyes.
“I wish you would stop scowling at me.” She returned the lid to the flagon. “‘Tis unnerving.”
“The devil is oft—”
“And stop with the devil nonsense. I told you I know who you are and I’m not afraid of you.”
“Then, you, milady, are a fool.”
“I’m not a fool.” She gave him a meaningful look as she wrapped her long, sensuous fingers around the bowl of the goblet and brought it toward him. “But I do know demons when I see them.”
“Obviously not.”
She pulled leaves from the plant and dropped them into the wine. “Demons feed on children, they don’t stop them from being hurt.”
“And what would you know of demons?”
She met his gaze as an equal. “Quite a bit, actually. Much more than I would like.”
Sin was amazed at her courage. Most women, and men for that matter, trembled in fear at his presence. None, save his brothers, had ever dared to defy him.
She added more herbs and bits to the wine until it formed a thick paste. Then, she took the paste and smeared it over his skin, her touch searing him with heat.
Sin watched her hand gliding gracefully over his skin as chills ran down his spine.
“Do you have a name?” she asked.
“Since you claim to know me so well, you tell me.”
She paused. “Well, I’m rather sure your mother didn’t name you Demon Butcher, Satan’s Spawn, or King’s Executioner.”
Sin suppressed a smile at her cheekiness. Aye, she was a brave lady with the heart of a lion. “My mother gave me no name at all.” He watched her wrap a bandage over his arm.
Those light green eyes flashed as she met his gaze. “You have to be called something.”
She stood so close that her breath fell softly against his skin as she spoke and the warm, floral scent of her filled his head.
He became acutely aware of the fact all he wore was a pair of chausses and she was dressed in naught save a thin servant’s dress. One that would be easy to divest her of.
His mouth watered.
The woman was beguiling, and for some reason he couldn’t fathom, he wanted to hear his name on her lips.
“Those who dare speak to me directly, call me Sin.”
She nodded. “Cyn? Short for Cynric?”
“Nay.” He recovered his stoicism as he remembered who and what he was. “S-I-N. As in conceived, born in, and am currently living happily in.”
He felt her hand tremble for the first time.
“You like to frighten people, don’t you?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
To his surprise, she laughed. It was a wondrous, musical sound that came from deep within her. Sin stared at her, entranced by the way her face softened.
She was a beauty. And right then he wanted desperately to taste those lips. To feel her breath mingling with his own as he claimed her. To allow Henry to see them wed so that he could enjoy her for the rest of his life.
He froze at the thought.
Nay, he would never allow himself such comfort. Even though she touched him gently now, she would curse and fear him as all others did if she truly knew the truth of him and what lay in his past.
It was not for him to feel comfort or solace. He had crushed and banished that delusion long ago.