With all the tenderness of a mother with her newborn, he led her over to the bed.The tiny hairs on her arms sprung to life under the long sleeves of her gown, making her skin tickle—a response to his strong chest pressed to her side, no doubt.To think she had once had that body pressed to hers, between her thighs.She released a sigh of regret.
Logan eased her down and set about lighting the candles from the fire.He came to stand in front of her, arms folded, gaze boring into her.“Where are ye hurt?”
“Nay, I am well.”Her voice came out a mere croak and she coughed to try again.Curse her weakness around him.“Truly.I ache a little, but I am well.”
Against the sounds of the fire crackling, she heard his teeth grind as he considered her.Mayhap trying to decide if she spoke the truth.It should not have surprised her he did not take her for her word.After all, he thought her an accomplished liar.
When the silence stretched on and she found herself unable to meet his gaze, she dropped it and fingered her skirts.“I thank ye for helping me.”
“Did ye think I wouldnae?”
She lifted her gaze to his.“I...I dinnae know.”The truth was, she no longer knew what this man was capable of.At times, he seemed an entirely different man, and then he did something that reminded her of the old Logan and she felt she saw him in his entirety again.That determination and loyalty was nothing new, but his aggressiveness was and that deep well of anger that seemed to linger inside him had never been present before.Mayhap much of it could be attributed to his memory loss.It had to be a most frustrating thing to know nothing of yourself, but would he ever let go of his anger and open himself up to the truth?With such little time left before he went to war, she doubted it would happen.
“I am no’ schooled in honour, I’ll give ye that much, but I wouldnae stand and let a woman be ravished.”
Hands twined in her skirts, she nodded slowly.“I know.”
“Do ye?”
“Aye.”
His lips twisted.“And here I thought ye considered me no more than a boorish beast.”
“Logan—” She released a lengthy sigh.
Exhausted from the constant fear and turmoil inside her, she felt her strength wither away.If Logan had not stood in front of her, she might have curled up and sobbed.Confusion muddied her thoughts and stole her determination.Was she speaking with the Logan of old or the new one—the callous, angry man who Gillean had attempted to mould into his likeness?Lorna knew nothing anymore.Even the idea she might escape and return to Ewan seemed a distant one.
Logan flexed a hand and her thoughts stalled.“Yer finger!”
He shrugged and lifted his hand to inspect the odd angle at which it sat.“Must have done that when I punched him.”
Lorna did not know whether to laugh or cry, so instead she stood and tugged his arms free of their folded position so she could inspect his hand.
“’Tis out of place.We must push it back in.”He tried to pull away from her but she kept her hold firm on his shirt.“Yer no’ afeared, are ye?”
“Nay,” he blustered.“I’ll have one of the men do it.”
“Ye should put it back in now.”She took his hand and cradled the large width gently.Masking a wince at the uncomfortable sight, she took the finger and heard his barely veiled hiss of pain.
“Leave it,” he said hoarsely but made no attempt to pull away.
Lorna debated having him sit and coddling him like a child, but doubted it would work to distract him.“Be still,” she ordered quietly and in one swift movement, pressed the finger into place.Her stomach rolled at the audible click of bone and his groan.
“Damnation.Hell fire.God’s blood,” he spat in rapid succession.
She clasped his hand between both of hers, hoping the warmth of her touch might ease the pain.“Forgive me.The pain will be gone soon enough.”
His gaze met hers, an odd warmth simmering behind those dark pools.“It has already,” he said begrudgingly, as if unwilling to admit her touch comforted.
Several moments passed, and Lorna found herself unable—and loath—to look away.If she let herself, she could believe that the battle never happened, that Logan had never been injured and lost his memory.This was still her castle and he was still her chieftain.Her son was sleeping soundly and she had accepted Logan into her heart.
But none of it was true.A gaping chasm of misunderstanding still sat between them.
“Are ye sure yer no’ hurt?”he asked roughly.A hesitant hand rose to her hair and pressed to the back of her head.“Ye could have been killed, ye foolish lass.”
His words held little censure, as if he was resigned to her always behaving rashly.Lorna’s lids almost fluttered closed at the way this small action enclosed her in his arm.All he had to do was tug the other one from her hand and wrap it around her waist and she would be his.
Would she?
