“Aye.The need is most urgent.But now,” theold man said with a trace of a smile in his tone, “you are bleedingall over my floor, lad.And my daughter, Lindsey, will have my headif I allow this abomination to continue.”He sheathed his sword andmotioned for his sons to do the same.To his daughter he said,“Show our guest to a sleeping chamber, Lindsey.”
“But...”
“Immediately,” the old man bellowed.“Andsummon a servant to see to his needs.”
“Aye, Father.”
Lindsey watched as Jamie bent and retrievedhis weapons.She saw him lean against the wall for a moment, thenstraighten.
She would not feel any remorse for thisvillain’s suffering.Had he not, after all, used her shamelessly togain entry to their fortress?He must have been aware of the risksof invading the home of the Gordons.
Lifting her skirts, she led the way up a widestaircase.Behind her Jamie staggered, swayed, then forced himselfto follow at a slower pace.
He had planned to do something bold andoutrageous to gain the attention of the Gordons.But it had notbeen his intention to attack the beloved daughter of the leader.The wild lass’s name was Lindsey.It gave him an odd sense ofpleasure to have that information, despite the buzzing in his brainthat disrupted his concentration.
Outside the doorway to a suite of rooms thelass paused and turned to study the giant who walked behind her.Though his eyes showed the effects of the wound, she had no doubtthat he could still outfight every man below stairs.There was suchstrength in him.And a sense of nobility that oddly stirredher.
She stepped inside.Jamie followed.
Several servants scurried around the rooms,preparing the bed, stoking the fire.
“You will rest in here,” she said, leadingthe way toward the sleeping chamber.
“You are most kind.”She heard the thread ofsarcasm in his tone and fought to ignore it.
“If you will lie down, I will see to yourwound.”
At a word from Lindsey, a serving girl turnedback the bed linens.As he made his way to the bed Jamie prayed hewould not disgrace himself by falling.He eased himself toward thepallet and felt his knees buckle.He fell forward and managed toroll over until he was lying on his back.
Jamie noted that a pitcher of water stood onthe table beside his bed.His throat was parched, and he recalledidly that he had not eaten in days.
Seeing the direction of his gaze she asked,“Do you thirst?”
“Aye.”
Through half-closed lids he watched asLindsey filled a goblet.Sitting on the edge of the pallet shelifted his head to her lap and offered him the liquid.He drankgreedily.
When the goblet was empty, Lindsey loweredhis head and placed the goblet on the table.Working withefficiency she removed his bloody tunic and shirt.
The wound to his shoulder was deep andalready beginning to fester.
“You have lost a fair amount of blood.”
Jamie struggled to stay awake.The cozy bedlinens, the warmth of the fire and the softness of this woman’stouch were almost more than he could fight.Were this a dozenHighlanders surrounding him in the frozen forest, he could havecalled upon that well of strength within himself.But this...thiswas the nearest thing to heaven he had encountered in his manyyears upon this earth.He was drowning in comfort.And he had notthe strength to fight it.
He needed to cross swords with this female.That would keep him alert.
“Your father’s mark is not true.A betterswordsman would have left me dead with his first thrust.”
That hit a nerve.Lindsey’s temper flared,“Father is still a fine swordsman.’Tis true, his eyesight isfailing somewhat.But had I not stopped him, his second thrustwould have found your heart.And,” she added in haughty tones, “youdid not even lift a sword in your own defense.”
“I came not to fight but to persuade.”
At that she said nothing.Dipping a piece ofcloth into a basin, she wrung it out and began mopping up the bloodthat stained his chest and arm.Her touch was deliberately rough,and it brought a smile of satisfaction to her lips when she saw herpatient flinch.
“Are you trying to finish the work yourfather started?”
“Mayhap.”She continued to sponge the blood,unaware that her touch had gentled.How muscled his arms.How flatthe planes of his stomach.How narrow his waist.His waist...Shesaw the glint of a dirk tucked into his waistband and remindedherself that this was the man who had attacked her and whosechilling words had made her blood run cold.
