He blew at the candle softly and watched as the flame wavered and then went out. A soft gasp told him she knew she’d been caught. Iain waited for her to pull the door closed before he moved. The soft glow of the fire gave him enough light to see. He dropped the bar next to the door into its brackets and listened. Soft footsteps padded away and he let out the breath he’d been holding.
Truly alone and secure, he tugged the hooded tunic over his head. He sighed with relief at its removal. The gloves came next, but they were harder to take off. The skin on his forearms remained sensitive. Once the gloves were in place, it felt more comfortable. He’d been unable to undress for almost a sennight. The air around him hurt and soothed at the same time.
Sliding his breeches down after pulling his boots off, his legs felt the same, both torment and respite. The thin shirt was the last piece of fabric off. Iain stood naked, waiting for the inevitable wave of sensation. He hissed through clenched teeth as his body recovered from the shock of exposure to the cooling bedchamber.
He quickly mixed cold water from the jug with some water heating near the fire and washed as much as he could. Then he cleaned his shirt, placing it over a chair to dry. He needed to stretch or his skin would tighten while he slept.
Checking the bar, he moved as close to the fire as he could before the terror overtook him. Burned, the monks said. His back, legs, arms and hands. Part of his face and the back of his neck. All marked with fire’s touch.
He clasped his hands and leaned over, reaching down to touch the floor. Then, up towards the ceiling. Iain moved as Brother Isiah had shown him. Similar to how he’d trained. …
Another shard of memory caught his attention. He had trained as a warrior, wielding sword and staff in battles against. …
And that quickly, the opening in the haze of his mind closed, leaving him with another frustrating glimmer of his past.
Barely making it through the entire series of stretching motions he did before sleeping, Iain crawled into the clean bed and sank into its comfortable layers. The ropes beneath him groaned as loudly as he did.
He’d arrived here a stranger, hoping for a meal and shelter from the storm. He ended this day, betrothed to the laird’s daughter, to be married within days unless she could find a true objection to him. Would she? Was his damaged body enough to form an impediment?
The reaction of certain parts of him at the memory of her naked before him proved there would be no impairment of that kind.
The strange events of the day plagued him. His thoughts blended with phantom bits of sounds and images, all moving around in his thoughts. His restless mind sought truths and proofs for hours before he found sleep.
