“He wouldn’t have. Skylar, I was there. Yes, I was watching, taking care. Assessing their strength and trying to give Sloantime to get the ponies. But I was there. No matter when he might have tried to touch you, he couldn’t have done so. He was doomed by his very interest. Come on, let me help you get dressed. Sloan will take second watch, but I must take third. We need to get some sleep.”
She was still cold, but she managed to stop shivering long enough to let him help her slip into the new chemise, pantalettes, and dress. He noticed the red rings chafed into her wrists by the ropes. He pressed his lips against the pulse at one of her wrists and then at the other. “Do they hurt?”
She shook her head, pulling her hands back. “What about you—where I shot you?”
He smiled, shaking his head. “Flesh wound. You barely grazed me.”
“Let me see it.”
He sighed, pulling back the ripped flap of his shirt. She had just grazed him, but there was still a nasty gash on his arm.
“It doesn’t look good?—”
“I washed it out with whiskey. It’s fine.”
“At least bandage it up!” she said, reaching into her blanket bundle for a cotton handkerchief. She soaked the material in the cold water before binding it around his arm. She didn’t meet his eyes as she went about the task. She was afraid he would try to stop her.
She tied the cotton securely around his arm and then started to turn back toward their camp, hoping that Willow had retrieved her shoes for her. She suddenly felt Hawk’s hand upon her shoulder, drawing her back around.
“Was it different?” he demanded.
She shook her head, at a loss.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
His tone remained somewhat harsh. “Was it different? You were hauled off by a brave before. Attacked.”
She tried to pull her arm free. He wouldn’t let her go. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Yes!”
“Yes?”
“Yes, it was different.”
“How?”
“Some—how. It was always different. You were different. Then you were speaking. And you?—”
“I what?”
She looked up at him at last. “You gave me a choice,” she said.
He shook his head. “But it wasn’t really a choice for you, was it? You were staying here, no matter what. Because you weren’t going back.”
“But that was my choice. You—you were my choice!” she said, and she tried to wrench free from him once again. But he wasn’t letting her go.
He swept her up. She struggled briefly against his hold, then met his eyes. She ceased to struggle.
“Feet still hurt?” he asked.
She nodded.
“We’ll hurry home then. My aunts will have salves to heal them.”
We’ll hurry home…
He said nothing more as he carried her back to camp. He laid out their blankets by their saddles. He rested his head upon the seat of his. His chest was her pillow. He wrapped his arms around her protectively. He smoothed back her hair. His touch was almost…
