“Feck this.” He pulled his dagger from his boot and cleanly sliced through all the laces. A grunt of satisfaction escaped him as he slid off her worn boots. As he peeled off her socks, he marveled at her tiny feet and smiled at her bright red toenails.
“There’s that done then,” he muttered, still eyeing her.
He leaned closer and watched her for any sign of waking. While her steady breathing eased his soul, her pallor and closed eyes tightened the knot of worry threatening to cut off his air. He whistled out a strained huff and allowed his gaze to travel across her clothing, soiled and covered in bits of grass and leaves. Surely, she would not wish for such a mess to soil her bedclothes.
He fumbled with the closure of her denim trews, clenching his teeth as he unzipped the wicked contraption he had painfully discovered could nip the feckin’ hell out of you if you caught yourself in it. Once safely opened, he eased the bottoms down and out from around her lovely arse. He sucked in a sharp inhale as the back of his fingers grazed her silky thighs. The daintyblack satin and lace sling encasing her womanly treasures nearly undid him.
“By Amergin’s beard,” he groaned under his breath. The hardness of his rising straining against the uncomfortable seam of his modern denims made him long for the comfort of his fourteenth century attire.
“Get a hold of yourself, man,” he scolded through clenched teeth. He slid the bottoms down her legs and off her feet, gently arranging her on the sheets after brushing the soil out from under her. He eyed her shirt for a long moment before attacking the tiny white buttons that closed the soft blue fabric. Tempted to just rip the thing in two and slide it out from under her, he forced himself to stop and count to ten to gain some control. After unbuttoning the last wee fastener from its slot, he carefully worked her arms out of the sleeves.
“Merciful goddess and blessed Fates.” Her ivory skin made him forget how to breathe. More of the flimsy black satin and lace shielded his view of her breasts, twin mounds of mouth-watering perfection. His hands trembled too much to undo the frustrating metal knotwork of the satin and lace binding. Out came his knife once more. He cut through it where it joined between her breasts.
Another groan left him as he worked the thing out from around her, leaving her completely revealed to his gaze. “This is pure madness,” he whispered, closing his eyes. The sight of those dusky rose nipples, pert and waiting to be suckled, was permanently branded in his mind. The memory of their sweetness, when he had tasted them in the dream, tortured him even more. Jaw clenched, he reached to the foot of the bed and gently pulled the blanket up over her, tucking it up around her shoulders as he brushed a featherlight kiss to her forehead.
After adjusting the painful seam that was about to split his throbbing cock in two, he settled into the overstuffed buttattered armchair beside the bed. Here he would stay until she awakened, standing vigil and protecting her.
Faithful Sam jumped into his lap, circled widdershins three times, and then settled down with his nose pointed at his mistress. Maizy lay at his feet, her head on her paws, facing the bed. Together, the three of them would keep their beloved Rachel safe.
It hurt to breathe.It hurt to swallow. Heaven help her if she had to cough or sneezed. Not opening her eyes, Rachel remained as motionless as possible, sipping in shallow breaths and praying that neither of the dogs would choose to jump up onto the bed.
Not quite certain about what exactly had happened, the only thing she knew for sure was that she must not be dead. Or if she was, she had gone to hell, and this was her punishment. Bracing herself, she pulled in the deeper breath she so badly needed. A searing jolt knifed through her, daring her to be stupid enough to try that again.
“Shit,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“I am here, Rachel. Breathe as slow as ye can, lass. I ken ye are in pain, but ye are alive. That’s what matters.” A large, warm, callused hand touched her cheek with a gentleness she hadn’t known since Granny got hauled off to the nursing home. Caelan’s deep voice gave her a point of focus through the fog of torment.
She forced open her eyes and found him gazing down at her, so much caring in his green eyes she had to force herself not to think about it. “What happened?” She flinched and knotted her fists in the sheets. Talking increased the agony.
“The chain,” he said quietly. “It snapped and hit ye.”
“So you were right,” she whispered, waiting for him to either crow about it or rub it in her face.
“None of that matters now,” he said as he dabbed a cool, damp cloth across her forehead. “All that matters is that ye heal and return to being my precious firebrand, ready and able to kick me arse if I displease ye.”
“If you keep being so nice, I’m going to cry, and then I’ll sniff and cough and maybe even puke,” she warned, closing her eyes again to avoid the terrifying kindness and caring in his expression. “Puking would not be a good thing for me to do right now. So, just stop it. Okay?” She risked another deeper breath and twisted the sheets to bear the pain. “How is it I’m not dead? Or am I dead, and this is hell?”
“Ye are not dead even though I am sure this seems like hell for ye. Emrys is somewhat of a healer. He said ye are badly bruised. Thankfully, nothing was broken. Ye just need to rest and mend. Soon, ye will be finer than frog hair split three ways.”
“Stop stealing Kentucky sayings,” she whispered even though his efforts to brighten her outlook made her heart twitch in favor of him—dangerously so.
“What can I do to help ye, lass? What can I fetch ye? Water? Chamber pot? I can do whatever ye need.”
Chamber pot? Was he serious? Surely, he was still just trying to make her smile. “Pain pills,” she whispered as she forced herself to endure the torment of lifting her hand and pointing at the bathroom. She had a leftover bottle of pain pills she’d been prescribed when she had all of her wisdom teeth surgically removed. The nasty pain medicine made her nose itch, so the bottle was still full. If he could find them in the medicine cabinet, at least they would knock her out for a while. She could tolerate an itchy nose a lot easier than this agony.
“Pain pills?” Caelan repeated, staring at her as if he had never heard of such a thing.
“In the bathroom cabinet over the sink. Brown bottle. White cap. I can’t remember the name of them, but it should be the only medicine bottle in there. I don’t even take vitamins.” She managed a bitter smile. “I’m healthy when I haven’t done something stupid to myself.” She needed him to stop talking and just look. If it was even possible, she felt herself growing paler.
He left her side. She prayed he was headed to get the pills. From the sound of things bouncing off the sink and the tiled floor, he had to be plowing through everything in the medicine cabinet. He reappeared at the bedside, cursing under his breath while prying at the bottle’s lid.
“You found them.” She’d sigh in relief, but it would hurt too much.
“Aye, I found them, but I canna get the feckin’ things open.” He pulled a knife out of his boot, pried off the lid, and shook one of the tablets into his hand. “Lore a’mighty, lass. Hurting the way ye are, how will ye swallow this?”
She had forgotten the pills were huge. “I will swallow it because I have to have some relief.” She opened her mouth and waited for him to place it on her tongue.
With a grim look, he dropped the tablet into her mouth, then supported her while holding a glass of water to her lips. As he eased her head back down onto the pillow, she panicked as it caught in her throat. Even before she could tell him, he lifted her back up and gave her enough water to wash it down. But after swallowing the tablet, she still coughed. It sent agonizing pain through her, as if someone had shoved their hands into her back and was trying to split her in two. She cried out at the torture, clutching her sides as her tears streamed.
