A kindhearted lass.
With those words echoing in her mind, she set about pouring some cool water into a basin so she could wipe the dried blood from his forehead.
From his heavily stubbled cheek and the edge of his mouth, too, Julianna relieved for his sake that he did not stir under her ministrations.
Her heart thudded against her breast to attend to a Highlander after what his kind had done so cruelly to her family ten years past—but her instincts told her this injured warrior wasn’t the same as one of those ruthless murderers. At least she hoped he wasn’t…
* * *
Roger awokewith a start to the sensation of something tickling his ear.
Something furry and soft…but his eyes were so heavy-lidded that he felt as if he couldn’t open them.
He felt terrible, in truth, from the throbbing ache in his head to the stabbing pain whenever he drew breath—God help him, he had never before felt so bruised and beaten-up. Somehow he managed to open his eyes as something swished under his nose…making him suddenly need to sneeze—
“Damnation!” His curse louder than the violent sneeze that made him clutch at his ribs in pain, Roger heard a startled chatter, his eyes widening at the squirrel that skittered across the floor.
A plump gray squirrel that spun around beneath a stool to stare back at him, its bushy tail flicking with agitation.
“Now see what you’ve done,” came a gentle reprimand from behind Roger, but his ribs were aflame and he didn’t dare to move a muscle to try and sit up.
Instead he lay there and stared at the thatched roof above him, licking his parched lips and wishing desperately for a sip of water or ale or anything to ease his thirst.
“Here, let me help you.”
Roger heard a soft swish and then a dark-haired young woman sank down beside him to cradle his head and lift a cup to his mouth.
“Drink it slowly…yes, that’s good.”
The cool liquid wasn’t water, but something else tasting of herbs with a slight bitterness, which made him stop drinking to look up at the face above him.
A face of such loveliness that he felt as if he must be dreaming…until recent memory came flooding back to him.
A face he had seen before…a voice he had heard before with the moonlit woods around him…speaking both gently and more firmly by turns…urging him toward an ivy-covered hut as every muscle and bone had seemed to cry out in agony.
“Julianna…”
CHAPTER4
Roger could see that she appeared startled for a moment, and then the softest of smiles curved her lips as she once again lifted the cup to his lips.
“So you remember my name…but you must drink. It will ease your pain.”
He obliged her, though the last swallow made him start to cough, Roger grimacing at the burning pain in his ribs.
“You must have struck every rock and tree root,” murmured his angel of mercy, for what else could she be? If he wasn’t lying upon the floor in a hut that smelled of wood smoke and dried rosemary and sage, he would have thought himself in heaven for how gently she held his head and ministered to him, her fingers wiping away a dribble from his chin.
“There, that’s enough for now. You’ve been sleeping for hours…it’s nearing dawn. I will have to leave soon.”
“Leave?”
“Yes. I must return home, but I’ll come back later. You might have gone right on sleeping if the squirrel hadn’t ventured so close to take a look at you.”
Her soft laugh made Roger glance at the stool, but the furry creature had scampered under the cot against the wall.
“So that was what tickled my ear and made me sneeze—och, is that an owl?” Roger stared in amazement at the bird perched on the mantel above the hearth as Julianna nodded.
“His wing is healed and he’s ready to fly again. I’m going to release him today…and the squirrel as well, now that his leg is better. The fawn in another day or so—”
