"I can handle… Christ!" The paste was cold against his inflamed skin, and her fingers were gentle but thorough, working the medicine into the swollen tissue.
"Ye need tae be more careful," she scolded, not looking up from her work. "A laird with a twisted ankle is vulnerable. What if those riders we saw decide tae attack?"
"They willnae."
"How dae ye ken?"
"Because if they were plannin’ an immediate attack, they wouldnae have been scoutin’ so obviously." He watched her hands move over his ankle, trying to ignore how intimate the gesture felt. "They were testin’ our awareness, seein’ how quickly we'd respond."
"And ye responded by injurin’ yerself in trainin’." Her voice held exasperation. "Very strategic."
He grimaced. "It was an accident."
"Accidents happen when people push too hard." She glanced up at him, her hazel eyes sharp. "When was the last time ye actually rested?"
"I rest."
"Sleepin’ in a chair daesnae count."
"I sleep fine in the chair."
"Ye sleep like a man who expects attack at any moment." She returned her attention to his ankle, wrapping it with clean linen. "Which is probably accurate, given yer circumstances, but still."
He caught her wrist gently, stilling her movements. "If ye're so concerned about where I sleep, lass, ye need only say the word."
Her hands froze on the bandage. "What?"
"The chair." His thumb traced a slow circle against her pulse point. "I'd abandon it gladly. All ye have tae dae is invite me back tae our bed."
Color flooded her cheeks, spreading down her neck. "I—that's nae what I meant."
"Nay?" His lips curved into a slight smile. "Ye seem awfully worried about me comfort only a second ago."
"I'm worried about ye bein' a fool and injurin' yerself further." But her voice had gone breathless, and her hands trembled as she fumbled with tying off the bandage.
"Mmm." He watched her struggle with the knot, making no move to help. "And here I thought ye were offerin' tae keep me warm."
"Tòrr MacDonald, stop this."
He leaned back slightly, giving her space but keeping his gaze steady on her flushed face. "One word from ye, Liliane, and I'll never sleep in that damned chair again."
She jerked the bandage tight—perhaps harder than necessary—and he hissed through his teeth.
"There." She sat back, her hands trembling slightly, not quite meeting his eyes. "All done. Try nae tae dae anythin' else foolish today."
"I make nay promises." Especially not when teasing her brought such lovely color to her cheeks.
He didn’t miss the flush creeping up her neck.
"Ye're nervous," he observed.
"I'm nae nervous. I was… I was concentratin’."
"And yer hands are shakin’."
"They are nae." She looked down at her own hands, saw the fine tremor, and snatched them back. "It's just... this is the first time I've actually treated someone. I wanted tae dae it properly."
"Ye did fine." He caught her wrist gently before she could retreat. "Better than fine. Did ye learn all this from yer maither?"
