Within minutes, he had a small, healthy flame burning. Miss Moreau snuffed out the candle, then placed his boots and stockings beside the fire to dry. She knelt beside him with the kettle, and he shifted the branches to form a nook for the container.
When she straightened and turned to him, she was so near, and when she turned that sweet smile on him, its power nearly overwhelmed him. His hands ached to brush back the stray wisps of her hair. Maybe see if her cheeks were really as soft as they looked.
She didn’t appear affected by the closeness, only glanced down at his side. “Let’s see what that arrow wound needs. Do you mind taking off your coat for a minute? At least pull that arm from the sleeve?”
There was no way he could deny her any request at this point, though having her working so close would test his self-control.
He would resist, though. Alone as they were, he had to do everything he could to maintain propriety.
Moving back to the center of the fur, he pulled off his coat and lifted his left arm so she could have access to the hole in his shirt. There wasn’t an easy way for her to see the wound without him lifting the tail of his tunic and his undershirt. But revealing that much skin certainly didn’t feel proper.
With the tin in her hands, she knelt beside him. “Can you lie on your side? I need better lighting to see.” Her voice held the no-nonsense tone of a nurse focused on her work.
Yet even ifshecould ignore how close they were—how alone they were—hecould not. He would be a gentleman, though. And an obedient patient.
Stretching out on his side, he moved his arm out of the way.
With a quick motion, she grabbed the hem of his tunic and slid it up his side. Then his undershirt.
He focused on the grain of the animal hair beneath him. How each strand contained two or more colors. What animal had it come from? Were there bobcats in this area? The fur looked too large for that creature, but the coloring was about right.
The cool softness of her fingers brushing his side made him suck in a breath. He tried to find the pain of the wound to distract himself, something to keep his body from tingling at her touch. But then she moved her hand away, and he finally eased out a breath.
Back to thinking of the bobcat. Or maybe ... His mind could conjure no other possible animal. Not when his senses tracked every movement she made. The swish of her skirt as she shifted back to her pack. A rustling, then a scrape. Then that swish again as she returned to his side.
“I need to wash out any of the tonic that might remain in the wound. You’re correct that the gash isn’t deep. It didn’t puncture an organ or break a rib, God be praised.”
Yes, God be praised. His condition could be so much worse.
“This will be cold.”
She didn’t lie. He barely kept from sucking in a gulp of air as icy liquid burned inside his wound, then dribbled down his back. A cloth brushed the liquid away from his unmarred skin.
“This might sting a bit.”
He prepared himself, and good thing, too. She seemed to be digging around inside the gash, loosing a fiery blaze in his side. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Could only hold himself in a constricted knot as he waited for her to finish her torture.
“There. It’s as clean as I can manage with what I have. The salve should keep it from festering and aid healing. We’ll wrap it to keep the medicine in place and the wound clean.”
She dabbed a cold substance in the cut, then her fingers settled on the healthy skin beside his wound. The softness of her touch almost made up for the pain from moments before.
A shifting sounded, like she was reaching for something. “Do you think you could come up on your elbow so I can wrap this bandage fully around you?”
He did as she asked, keeping his attention on the fur. A glance at her now would be far too intimate, what with his shirt pulled halfway up. As a healer, she might be accustomed to this type of thing, but surely she always had a brother or father around in these situations.
“Perfect.” Something in the tone of her voice drew hisnotice as she began to wrap a bandage around his middle. She sounded almost breathy.
The thought distracted him so much that when her wrist brushed against his belly, his body flinched before he could stop it. This torture—the desire sluicing through him that he was doing his best to bind up with heavy chains—had to end soon. He’d always prided himself on his strength, but it turned out he was far weaker than he’d thought.
Finally, she gave a tug on the bandage. “There. That should stay put for a while.” She worked the hems of his shirts down, her knuckles only brushing his skin twice in the process.
He sat up, keeping his back to her. “Thank you.” So much energy coiled inside him, he had to do something to release it. Preferably something that gave him a bit of space from her. Maybe this would be a good time for him to peek outside the cave and see what was happening with their pursuers.
He started to push to his feet, but the action quickly reminded him of the confounded blankets wrapped around his feet. He eyed his shoes and stockings. They wouldn’t be dry yet, and taking them away from the small fire would slow the process. But keeping these blankets on made him clumsy. He couldn’t chance the possibility that he might stumble or accidentally do something else to draw attention.
Better to go barefoot for a while. He quickly cast off his footwear and stood. “I’m going to see what’s happening outside.”
“Be careful.” Miss Moreau’s tone sounded hesitant, maybe even a bit worried.
