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“Healing.” Clipped. Cold.
“Shouldn’t I take a look—?”
“I said it’s fine. My wounds repair quickly.”
Ice slithered through her veins. “How many times have you been injured?”
“Enough.”
Davien tossed her gown, petticoat, and panniers to her, and then turned the cabin back into the disorganized shape it had been in when they’d arrived—dirt, debris and all. Thankfully, there were no woodland creatures present. “Get dressed,” he ordered.
She stared at him. “Have I done something to upset you?”
He finally turned to her with a fierce expression. “No, but after what you did, I think I would be more concerned about leaving France in one piece. As it is, it’s going to be a miracle to get you back on English soil.”
