Realizing everyone was looking at her—including Hawk—she forced herself to kneel beside Meg. “What do you need me to do?”
“Clean the wound as best you can with this cloth, while I ready the needle and sinew. And I’ll need you to hold the wound together as I stitch.”
Ellie swallowed hard and nodded. She dipped the rag in the cool water that Meg had poured from a pitcher into a small bowl and began to clean the gash, careful to avoid touching his bare skin with her fingers as she tried to wipe away the black grease, and the grit from the sea. But she was painfully aware of the tight muscles underneath—and of his eyes on her. It was almost as if he could feel the tension, too. As if he was just as aware as she was of her hands on him.
Unfortunately, contact could not be avoided forever.
“Put your hands here,” Meg said, showing her where she wanted them.
Ellie took a deep breath and slid her palms on either side of the wound—one rested gently on his ribs and the other low on his hip. She swore she felt a sharp sizzle as a rush of heat flared under her hands.
He jerked at the contact, and she pulled her hands back. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
He started to shake his head, but then said, “Aye. It stings a bit more than I thought.”
A small frown gathered between Ellie’s brows. “I’ll try to be more gentle.”
She touched him again and although he didn’t jump, she could tell that it was causing him some kind of pain. His mouth was tight, and every muscle in his body seemed to clench.
But it seemed to have the opposite effect on her. She could feel the heat and energy under her palms and ached to spread her hands over more of him. To test the strength burgeoning under her fingertips. To splay her fingers over the rigid bands of muscle that lined his stomach. To dip her fingers beneath the edge of the plaid—
He made a low, pained sound in his throat and squirmed uncomfortably, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. But Meg gave a sharp tug of the sinew as she pulled the needle through his skin, and Ellie realized that must have been it.
“Thanks, Ellie,” Meg said after a moment. She was eyeing Hawk with a strange look on her face. “I think I can finish from here.”
Holding back a sigh of relief, Ellie removed her hands and quickly tucked them in her skirts. The captain seemed to relax as well.
Wanting to break the awkward silence, Ellie asked, “How did this happen?”
Domnall groaned. “Ah, lass, don’t ask him that.”
Hawk gave him a reproachful glare and proceeded to tell a long, dramatic story of how he’d been out for a midnight swim when he’d come across a score of the biggest English ruffians he’d ever seen (in full armor and armed to the teeth, of course) preying on a galley of nuns and orphans on their way to the holy Isle of Iona. He could hardly ignore such injustice (hardly, she thought, for pirates were known for their adherence to justice) and had jumped onboard to help them, defeating the galley ruffians with only a dirk. But alas, he’d gone to the rescue of one of the children who one of the English was trying to throw overboard. He reached for the child, and one of the English managed to get a swipe in before Hawk was able to dispense him.
By the time he’d finished his story, Meg was already done stitching him and was watching him with something akin to hero worship in her eyes.
“That was a remarkable story,” Ellie said. Orphansandnuns? A bit much, she’d say, but he was nothing if not entertaining. “Was any of it true?”
Domnall started coughing to hide his laughter, and Hawk gave him a sharp glance.
“The lass has your mark, Captain,” Domnall said when he managed to get his laughing under control. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Well?” Ellie demanded.
Hawk shrugged.
“I didn’t think so,” she said pertly. “If piracy doesn’t work out for you, you should consider becoming a bard.”
He grinned unrepentantly. “It was the orphans, wasn’t it?”
“Among other things. The score of men as well. No one can defeat twenty men alone with only a dirk.”
Domnall frowned. “The captain can.” She looked at the older man, expecting to see him smile, but he seemed to be in earnest. “He’s done it before.”
“Don’t you have work to do, Domnall?” Hawk said sternly. “I thought you were going to replace some of the riggings.”
Ellie couldn’t believe it. The braggart was embarrassed. He would make up ridiculously elaborate tales about his feats, but when the truth was told he became suddenly modest.
It was … intriguing. Unexpected. Even charming.
