The weight of the day pressed down on her, and her eyes burned with exhaustion. She kept cooling his brow, and after a while, she folded the cloth and set it aside, hesitating before climbing into the bed beside him. Her hands shook as she adjusted the blankets, careful not to disturb his injury.
Lying on her side, she watched his face, her heart clenching at the sight of his pale complexion.
“I’ll keep ye safe,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “Just… dinnae leave me.”
The rhythm of Alexander’s breathing was steady, a soothing cadence that eventually lulled her into a restless sleep. She didn’t realize she’d drifted off until a gentle touch stirred her awake.
Her eyes flew open, her heart leaping into her throat. A strong, calloused hand brushed her cheek, and she blinked, her eyes locking onto hazel ones that glimmered despite the dark circles around them.
“Ye stayed,” Alexander rasped, but a faint smile played on his lips. His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her brow. “I kenned ye would.”
Tears welled up in Helena’s eyes as relief washed over her like a tide. “Ye stubborn fool,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “I thought ye would never wake up.”
His smile widened, weak but genuine. “It’ll take more than an arrow to keep me down.”
Helena laughed softly, the sound mingling with her tears. She placed her hand over his, pressing it to her cheek. “Welcome back, Alexander.”
For the first time in hours, the tension in her chest eased, replaced by a glimmer of hope.
“Ye’ve been here the whole time?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Aye. I wanted to stay here to take care of ye,” she explained as she climbed out of bed. There was a lot to be done.
The dim light in the chamber flickered as Helena adjusted the blanket over Alexander’s chest. His dark hair was tousled against the pillow, his hazel eyes sharp and unyielding despite the discomfort in his expression. His stubbornness was a trait she had grown accustomed to in their short time together, though it still tested her patience.
His bare chest, which was heaving, was alluring, irresistible. Even as he lay in bed, recovering, she wanted to feel his strong arms around her more than anything. She ached to press her cheek to the patch of hair on his pectorals. Unconsciously, she reached for it, running her fingers slowly over the muscle. She blushed when she realized what she was doing, pulling away again and ignoring the ache inside her.
“I’m goin’ to fetch yer breakfast,” she declared, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “And nay, ye’re nae gettin’ up. Stay put.”
Alexander glared at her, shifting slightly on the bed as if testing her resolve. “Helena, I’m nae an invalid. I can pour me own whisky and dress me own wound.”
“Ye cannae even sit up without wincin’,” she countered, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow. “Ye’ll do as ye’re told, or else ye’ll risk tearin’ yerself open again.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue further. Instead, he sighed heavily, sinking back against the pillows. “Fine. But only because I’d rather nae have Alice fussin’ over me like I’m a bairn.”
Helena smirked in triumph but quickly schooled her expression into one of mild concern.
She fetched a glass of whisky from the table and handed it to him. “Drink this, then. It’ll help while I clean yer wound.”
He accepted the glass begrudgingly, his gaze never leaving hers. “If I’m drinkin’, so should ye,” he muttered, before taking a long sip.
Ignoring his remark, Helena dipped a linen cloth into a basin of warm water. She unwrapped the bandage carefully, her fingers gentle but firm as she worked. The wound near his ribs was still red and angry, though the swelling had gone down slightly.
“This will sting,” she warned softly.
Alexander merely grunted in response, gripping the glass tighter as she pressed the damp cloth to the wound.
He hissed through his teeth but didn’t flinch, his eyes narrowing on her. “Ye’ve got a heavy hand for someone who claims to care.”
“And ye’ve got a thick head for someone who’s been poisoned,” she shot back, dabbing at the wound. “Hold still.”
As she worked, the tension in the room seemed to ease slightly. Alexander took another sip of whisky, his posture relaxing despite his annoyance. When she began applying the honey and herb mixture Alice had left, he watched her intently, his expression softening.
“Ye have a knack for this,” he noted grudgingly.
“I dinnae have much choice, do I?” she replied, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Since ye’re me husband, I cannae very well let ye die on me.”
His gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unspoken passing between them before the door creaked open.
