He nodded and sat on the stool, spreading his legs once more around her and leaning back to give her access to the gash on his side. In silence, she repaired the wound, using small, close stitches, mopping the blood as it welled and spilled down his side. Then he held out the small crock and she scooped out some of the ointment with her fingers and dabbed it over the area. Other than stiffening once or twice, he did not move or speak.
Or reach for her. Or stare at her mouth. Well, if he had, she’d not seen it for she kept her eyes on her task and tried to ignore the man beneath her touch.
When she wrapped several lengths of cloth around his chest and tied it off, her task was done and she gathered up her supplies. As she stood, her legs trembled and she would have fallen if he had not caught her. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she regained her balance and stepped back. And saw the other gash on his head.
‘You did not tell me your head was injured,’ she said as she took the needle and thread in her hand. ‘Hold that candle higher so I can see this.’
‘’Tis nothing, Arabella.’
‘It must have pained you when I...tugged on your hair?’ This tear followed the line of his hair from above his right eye down to the side of his cheek.
‘Nay.’ He hissed this time when the needle pierced his skin, the area being more tender than his side.
‘I will finish quickly.’ She bent to her task, not wasting time on words. It took only a few minutes to repair that cut and put the ointment on it. No bandage would be placed over it.
‘My thanks, lady,’ he said as he rose.
Brodie walked to the trunk and pulled a shirt from it. She saw the wince as he lifted his arms and tugged it over his head but did not comment. Men generally did not want to be reminded of weaknesses or injuries—she’d learned that early in her years of caring for her family after her mother’s death.
‘Seek your rest now. And you have my thanks for your help this day. Especially since...’
‘Since?’
‘Since you are here against your will. And...’
‘And a Cameron?’ she asked.
‘Aye. A Cameron.’ She sensed that those words were to remind her of the line drawn between them. A safe distance from which they could observe and interact but not engage.
‘Even Camerons are capable of mercy, sir,’ she retorted.
‘It would appear that some are, Lady Arabella.’
And he was gone. No warnings to stay within. No admonitions of any kind.
Tomorrow would see new battles between them, but for now she walked to the pallet there and collapsed into a fitful sleep.
* * *
Brodie wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he could not allow it to take control that night. He paced his way around the camp, from end to end, checking on his men, the guards, the horses and the supplies. And then he found himself standing before the cave he’d claimed as his some months ago. Jamie moved away as he approached. He crouched down to look within and saw her on his pallet.
Damn, but he felt himself surge and harden at the sight of her lying there!
She’d been extraordinary all day. Margaret yet sang her praises, as did every one of his people who’d come into contact with her. Magnus’s life was owed to her actions—actions taken without hesitation. A prisoner. A Cameron.
What was he going to do with her?
His body responded with its own suggestions, the same ones that had been trying to take control for months now. The same body that she’d repaired with her gentle touch and sure movements. Did she know he had inhaled her scent as she knelt between his legs? Had she been able to see his erection that had lasted through the whole time they were together? Had she any idea of what could happen if she but gave a word or sign to him?
She was an innocent, he had no doubt of that. But that simply made it worse. He could read the signs of her own arousal, he’d noticed the tightening buds of her nipples and the way she breathed there next to him. Her eyes had darkened and her mouth had opened just a bit to allow her to pant in shallow, quick breaths.
Never to be his.
He let out a sigh as he noticed her condition. It looked as though she’d crumpled to the pallet with no attention paid to her comfort. She lay as she’d fallen. Brodie crept silently into the chamber and stood over her as she slept the sleep of the exhausted. If she remained as she was, she would pay the price come morning when her neck would hurt and her hands would be numb.
Brodie leaned over and untwisted her arms and gently lifted her head on to the folded blanket that served as a pillow. She mumbled as he straightened her legs and untangled her gown. Then, after removing her shoes, he covered her with several thick blankets against the chill. Satisfied that she would be more comfortable now, he stood and watched the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
And he wanted nothing more in that moment than to lift those blankets and crawl in next to her. To wrap his body around hers, to sleep with her in his arms. He’d not realised he’d groaned until she began to rouse.
