“Ye should be right as rain before the day ends,” he added, his voice clear. Then he turned as if to leave, or at least as if the matter of her troubles had been settled for the moment.
Ava saw the growing stain on his shoulder and stood at once. “Nay.” Ciaran looked back at her as she crossed to him before her nerves could begin protesting her actions. “Sit down.”
One eyebrow rose. “That sounds uncommonly like an order, me Lady.”
“Itisone.” The boldness of it startled her less than it should have. “Millie taught Isobel and me nae to let a man keep bleeding all over the floor while pretending it is nothing. Sit.”
For the first time since he had brought her into her chamber, something like real surprise flashed across his face. Then it shifted into that quiet, unreadable interest he seemed to reserve for the moments when she ceased behaving as he expected.
“Aye?” he said softly.
“Aye.”
He might still have refused if she had sounded timid. Perhaps that was why she kept her chin up and her voice steady.
She would not sit there warm and clean in a fresh gown while the man who had bled for her shrugged off his wound as though his body belonged to no one.
At last, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.
Ava went to fetch what she needed: cloth, salve, clean bandages, water not yet gone cool in the basin. Her hands shook only a little, enough that she could steady them by the time she turned back.
When she came to stand before him again, the room felt smaller than before. For some reason, something about her choosing to do this made her body heat up.
“Millie trusted ye with all of this?” Ciaran asked as she set the basin down.
“Millie trusted me with whatever I could be made to learn before me attention wandered,” Ava replied. “It turns out blood is quite a persuasive teacher.”
That almost coaxed a smile from him.Almost.
She moved carefully to his side and began unfastening his plaid. Even that simple act made her pulse jump.
He sat very still while she loosened the fabric and drew it back enough to expose his wound. She had seen blood before, but not this. Not likethis. The cut was red and angry, the skin around it taut and darkened.
The sight steeled her resolve becausethiswas what he had takenforher.
“How does it feel?” she asked, forcing calmness into her voice.
He glanced down once. “I have had worse.”
Of course, he has.
The answer irritated her. “That isnae an answer.”
“It is the only one ye need for a shoulder wound.”
Ava scoffed and dipped the cloth in water. Then she wrung it gently and began to clean away the dried blood around the edges. He did not flinch, though she felt him hold his breath each time the cloth passed too close to the most sensitive part of the wound.
“That is what ye get for being cocky,” she muttered.
“I have been called worse.”
“That, at least, I believe.”
He did not answer, and the silence that followed felt completely different.
She was too aware of the feel of his skin beneath her hands and the disciplined stillness with which he let her tend to him. She was also too aware of the fact that if she lifted her eyes just alittle, she would be far too near his face. So she kept them on the wound.
“That isnae what I meant about people calling ye worse than cocky.”
