She winced in sympathy. “Well, we’ll have to start with that. Let me begin by cleaning the wound, then I’ll see what I can do.”
He nodded, dropping his head while she worked. He did not make a sound even as she dug into his wound.
“You’re very quiet. Does it hurt?”
Kayden shook his head. “Nay, lass,” he said.
Lilliana could feel the tension in him even before she began. He answered her questions sparingly, his voice clipped, as thoughhe was guarding the truth behind his injury as fiercely as he guarded his lands.
Whatever had distracted him enough to earn such a wound, he clearly did not wish to speak of it.
She suspected it had something to do with the unrest beyond the castle walls. Or perhaps with her. Their last exchange lingered between them, sharp and unfinished.
She focused on the task at hand, carefully removing the splinters embedded in his skin. His gaze rested heavily on her, though he said nothing. The air in the healer’s room felt warmer than usual, thick with the scent of dried herbs and oils. She wondered absently if he found it overwhelming, or if he noticed at all.
Her fingers moved steadily, guiding the needle through flesh with practiced care. Despite his size, he did not flinch. He only watched her with that unreadable look that made it difficult to keep her thoughts from wandering.
She suddenly became aware of how close they were. His chest brushed against her knuckles, and the warmth of him seeped through the thin fabric of her sleeves. She willed her hands to remain steady, though her pulse betrayed her.
He said nothing, yet the silence between them was far from empty.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered what it would be like to touch him without the barrier of duty, without needle and thread, without the pretense of healing to justify the closeness.
The thought startled her, and she forced her attention back to the final stitch, tying it off with careful precision.
“There,” she murmured, more to herself than to him, though she could still feel his gaze lingering long after her hands withdrew. “All done.”
He straightened up and gave her a smile. “Thank ye.”
“You’re welcome. I’d like to put a poultice on it just to pull any impurities I might have missed. Would you get me that jar?” She pointed to a tall shelf, and he stood up to get it.
He handed it to her, his hand softly brushing against hers, and his breath caught. Her gaze was open, hiding nothing from him, and he fell into her eyes, almost drowning in the stygian well of desire he could see there.
Without saying a word, he sat back down. She stood beside him, mixing various ingredients into a mortar before pounding them energetically until they turned into a paste.
She put the paste in a porous bag and then placed it over his wound, her focus absolute. Taking a clean cloth, she neatly tied the poultice in place.
“You should keep it there until tomorrow,” she murmured.
He nodded, watching her intently. It was the first time he’d really seen her work, and he was impressed by her care.
“I haven’t seen you for the last few days,” she added.
“I havenae seen ye either. I thought perhaps it was deliberate. Ye ken where the door to me chambers is, after all.” He raised an eyebrow at her, making her blush.
“I…”
He smirked. “If I had ken ye were waiting for me to find ye, I would have.” He leaned closer to her, his eyes dropping to her lips. His tongue flicked out briefly before he met her eyes again. “I can still taste ye on me tongue, ye ken? It is rather addictive.”
Her brown eyes went so wide that he thought he could fall into them. For a heartbeat, she did not move, did not breathe, as though the air itself had thickened between them.
“Kayden…” she whispered, though it sounded less like a warning and more like his name had slipped free without permission.
He stepped closer, close enough that the heat of him brushed against her skirts. One hand came to rest on the edge of the table behind her, caging her in without quite touching her. His gaze lingered on her mouth again, slower this time, deliberate.
“Ye blush easily for a woman who claims to be unafraid of me,” he murmured.
“I am not afraid,” she replied, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her. “I am… irritated.”
