Now it was Slaine’s turn to wonder if she was trying to make a jibe or not. But no, there was no sign of guile in her eyes.
The sausages finished and mead drunk, there was nothing else to do except prepare for sleep. Blair darted into the forest to find some licorice root and came back with two small cuttings. She handed one to Slaine. “I use this, or willow twigs, every night. Would ye like some?’
Slaine accepted her gift politely and then tried to take off his riding coat to make a pillow. He winced.
Blair was watching him as she rubbed her teeth with the chew stick. When she saw him flinch taking off his jacket, she threw the stick into the fire and went to him.
“What’s the matter? Are ye hurt?”
When he only offered a grunt, she snatched the coat out of his hands and lifted it up to the flames to see better. A small slash let the light through. Blair gauged where the slash would be on his body and walked around to his back. By the light of the fire, she could see his doublet was reddened with blood just behind the shoulder, and when she gently opened up the torn fabric with her fingers, she saw a wound oozing and caked with blood.
“Och now, honestly, Slaine, leaving this cut to sit all night is behaving like a real ninny,” Blair scolded. “It could turn nasty in a week, and then where would we be? I s’pose ye got it at that pestilent tavern?”
She poured out a small mug of water and set it by the fire to warm while she went to her saddlebag and took out a tiny chest. She moved to the fire and used its light to sift through the chest’s contents. Slaine watched her, an unreadable smile on his lips.
Blair took a small piece of moss and dipped it into the warmed water. She went behind Slaine and began to dab the moisture onto his back.
“There, ye see, it’ll feel better already.”
Slaine said nothing but had to agree. It was the first time since he had been a very small boy that he had ever allowed someone to go behind his back. When he felt Blair’s little hand swabbing his skin, he experienced an emotion he could not put a name to, but it was a deep and heartfelt one.
Blair, unaware her simple act of kindness and sympathy was one Slaine had not known for many, many years, carried on cleaning the wound but was also using the time to look at his body.
The skin on his back was smooth and browned by the sun, which made Blair think he must do some of his work shirtless. This guess was not far off the mark; Slaine enjoyed riding with his back under the warm summer sun when he was alone. Any pellucid spring water or pool would have him naked and swimming in it whenever he could—another one of the benefits of being a solitary man.
Blair went to her chest and brought out a small pot of salve. Using one finger, she patted the thick ointment onto the wound to seal it shut as best she could. As she did so, Blair’s eyes made a note of all the scars and ridges that marred Slaine’s skin. Some had healed in straight, white lines, others were jagged and raised, a few, more recently obtained, scars were purple and rigid. The skin on Slaine’s back was a map all of its own.
The wide shoulders and bulging triceps plunged down to form a massive V-shape created from his shoulder blades and broad back muscles, tightening into a slim waist and narrow hips. Then the muscles flared out again into his thighs and calves. Blair could not help herself nor hold herself back; she traced a line on the smooth skin with her finger, starting from the nape of his thick neck and moving down his spine.
Slaine gave a shiver.
Blair jumped back, stammering, “Some s-salve dripped down. Beggin’ yer pardon.”
Slaine did not know or care what caused her to run her finger over his body. All he knew was that it had felt thrilling. He realized the sign of how her touch had affected him was showing. He hastily pulled his jerkin over his crossed legs, saying, “We must get some sleep while we can, lass.”
Blair went back quietly to her side of the fire. They did not know it of the other, but it took a fair bit of time before they were both able to turn their thoughts away from what they had just experienced and drift off to sleep.
8
Go over or Around?
Something had changed. Both Blair and Slaine felt it when they awoke. The air was charged with a subtle tension, as though a lightning strike were about to explode on the ground around them. It was not an unpleasant sensation, however—far from it. The atmosphere was evocative of a chemistry beyond the scope of their understanding.
They broke camp in silence, each busy with their own thoughts. The first contact they made with one another was when Slaine stood by Pooka to lift Blair back up into the saddle. She wanted to tell him when he did this that it was one of her favorite parts of the day, but she thought it would sound patronizing, so the words were left unsaid.
After she had settled herself back in the saddle, she asked politely, “How is yer shoulder at the back?”
“Good, thank ye,” was his brusque reply, but a grateful and charming smile accompanied it.
The horses rejoined the road, and they headed west toward Croachy. The way narrowed as tall cliffs towered over them on either side. They made it impossible to see the sun, and the way stayed dark and gloomy.
Blair ventured to comment on it. “I never ken the lochs were so different from the mountains. This forest seems endless, and when there’re no trees, then there are rocks so high I can hardly see the sky.”
Slaine, who had never been down this road before either, did not like the terrain for other reasons. When there were cliffs and rocks, there would be caves, and where there were caves, there could be bandits. Without letting Blair see what he was doing, he loosened his sword in its sheath.
Then he realized she was in all likelihood waiting for him to reply. “Aye, lass, loch land is vastly different.”
She seemed satisfied with his response, and Slaine allowed himself to relax.
