“I am fine. I will rest as ye said.” He indicated her pallet. “Ye should sleep as well.”
Unable to turn his body away because of the wound, he closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his racing heart. There was no way he’d be able to sleep, but he didn’t move until he heard her quiet retreat.
What was Niall thinking to leave him alone with her like this? The man knew how he felt toward her. Niall should have realized what might happen. Did he believe Lachlann had the control of a monk?
He growled deep in his throat.
“Do ye need something, Lachlann?” Her sweet voice carried to him from her pallet where she lay.
He clamped his teeth, then blew a breath, puffing out his cheeks. He decided not to answer her at all. Best if she believed he was asleep. Never had his hands, his entire body ached so, urging him to set aside his chivalry and test the desire smoldering in her eyes. A need she probably couldn’t name. No, it was better to find an experienced wench to see to him. Soon. As soon as they were done here. As soon as they found the silver, returned it to the priory, and were done with this. As soon as he could get Ethne out of his thoughts.
* * *
It would be another full day before any of the others returned to the cave. A day of pure hell for Lachlann. Finn came to sit beside him in bed, shoulder to shoulder, because Ethne insisted he stay there. His wound barely throbbed and his pent-up frustration was near unbearable. He needed to be up and about. And away from the temptation that she was. If she cared at all about his need to get out of bed, it was well hidden. Every time he broached the subject with her, she would not even consider allowing him to get up. When she started to feed him, he had had enough and pushed her hand away none too gently.
“I am able to feed myself, Ethne.” His forehead was tight, partly a result of the ongoing throbbing behind his eyes, but much more from the irritation at the situation. That included her sitting beside him, her thigh warm against his. Close enough to touch, but out of reach. “Ye said yerself ’twas a small scratch.”
“I never said scratch.” She stood, the food left forgotten on the ground between them, and crossed her arms. Stubborn.
Finn turned to him. “She never said scratch.”
She gave Lachlann her back after a flash of an I-told-ye-so look and returned to the fire. He whispered to Finn, “A lot of goodyeare.”
The lad shrugged. “Then I won’t tell anyone about the kiss. How would that be?”
Lachlann stilled. The boy’s expression showed no surprise, no judgement, no feelings one way or another from this unexpected witness of Lachlann’s gut-wrenching debacle.
“If ye were awake, why did ye not say anything?” Lachlann asked.
“I dinna mind ye kissing Ethne.” Finn shrugged again. “I would like it if ye took her to wife. She would take good care of ye. She takes good care of me.”
Lachlann couldn’t help but smile at the way his young mind worked. Finn was correct, of course, but he and his friends were not there to see him married off. They were there to find hidden silver and bring it back to Restenneth Priory. He would probably never see Ethne or Finn again.
His chest tightened at the thought. He put an arm about the boy’s small shoulders, hugging him against him, and whispered, “That would be fine if ye kept the kiss to yerself.”
Watching Ethne work about the cave, seeing to the cooking and the cleaning, maintaining the food stuff and returning with what she had gathered from the forest, making this cold, damp place a welcoming home, Lachlann swallowed past the lump in his throat. Finn was correct. She would be the perfect lass to see to him. He required little: food, care of his few belongings, a willing woman to warm his bed at night, or whenever he sought her out.
She stomped over to retrieve his untouched porridge. She scoffed, adding over her shoulder as she left, “So glad I am that ye can feed yerself.”
Unrepentant, he bent close to Finn’s ear. “Can ye collect the painted pebbles for us to play with? And some of those berries Ethne likes so much?”
The lad’s face lit up, and he nodded with great enthusiasm, wiggling to the edge of the pallet then running toward the door.
Ethne frowned. “Where are ye off to?”
“Surprise!” Finn called from beyond the cave entrance.
She snorted again, but barely glanced Lachlann’s way. She was piqued at him in the extreme.
“Ethne.” He waited, but she showed no sign of answering him. “Forgiveness, please. I am not a good patient. Ask Niall. Even ask Aldred.”
A disparaging glance his way, and she was back to her endless mending. “That’s obvious to anyone with eyes in their head.”
“And ye’ve been so kind to me. Verra patient. I do appreciate all ye’ve done.”
She stopped her busy hands and lifted her gaze toward the ceiling as if considering what to do. He hoped he’d chosen the right words that would make her forget her angst.
“Come sit by me,” he said.
