She took a deep breath and reached for the oils, her hands trembling slightly from uncertainty. Why was she so nervous when she had already rubbed oil in Fiona’s presence?
I wasnae alone then.
The clay jar felt cool beneath the tips of her fingers as she upended the pot and poured a small amount of oil into her palm. She replaced the jar before slowly beginning to rub her hands together.
“What are ye doin’?” Callum’s eyes instantly shot open as he looked at her hands.
“Yer are in pain, I have to use more oil before Fiona returns.”
He seemed slightly uncomfortable at her suggestion as he shifted, but said nothing more.
Eleanor finished warming the sweet-smelling oil between her palms and gingerly pressed her hands against the skin of his chest.
He is so warm.
She slid her palms over the taut skin, using the tips of her fingers to knead in the oil as she worked her way toward the wound.
Callum groaned again, lower this time and with less conviction of pain.
He is enjoying this.
She realized with a start as heat flooded her cheeks. Her hands trembled slightly again as she continued to work her way across his skin. Every fiber of her being wanted to pull away, not because she hated what she was doing, but because she was scared of what it was making her feel.
“Yer hands are workin’ magic, lass, Ye should have been a healer.” He groaned softly this time, a sound that resonated from deep within his chest and rumbled in his throat.
Saint preserve me. Does he even know how he sounds?
She drew her lower lip between her teeth and turned her head to the side, looking at the thatched ceiling and anywhere else that was not on his body. Her hands moved slowly, going down the planes of his chest and exploring the contoured muscles.
The fire in the cabin seemed to burn even hotter than it had before as the fabric of the dress whispered against her skin.
Callum lay still beneath her hands, his breaths coming in ragged motions as his chest rose and fell. “Lass…” He moaned to her as his eyes slowly opened.
Eleanor’s fingers slowly worked their way back up, stopping on his pectoral muscles as she looked into his eyes. The look that she saw there astounded her. He looked utterly content with the world, as if he could fall asleep at any moment. She almost felt as if she had misjudged him before. He was not a barbarian or a thief, but a laird who could experience different emotions just like she could. “Me laird…” She began softly, feeling the need to apologize to him for her own misjudgment.
“Ye two seem to be gettin’ along quite nicely,” Fiona suddenly spoke up from behind them.
Jumping back, Eleanor almost yelped from fright. She felt as if she had been caught red-handed as she began to stutter. “We were just… I…”
Fiona raised her brows and smirked. “Ye were just obliging the laird with some pain relief, I assume?” Her eyes moved to the clothes hanging by the hearth and back to Eleanor, who was wearing one of her dresses.
Heat crept up the back of her neck as she took a deep breath and straightened. “I got caught in the storm and needed to get out of my wet clothes,” she explained as calmly as she could, remindingherself that she was innocent in all of it. She looked out the window where the storm had begun to calm, yet Fiona seemed as dry as a bone. When had the storm even begun to ease? She had been so caught up in tending to the laird that she had not even bothered to check the rain.
“I assumed that as well, lass,” Fiona chuckled under her breath as she came into the room with the basket swinging over her arm.
Eleanor turned back to the laird, who was smirking at her from the bed. The look in his eyes told her that he knew very well what Fiona had been thinking, but he was not about to correct her at all.
Men!
She rolled her eyes and turned back toward the fire, utterly exasperated with the situation at hand. She walked over to the fire and began to turn her garments. The man was utterly infuriating with his teasing, yet there had been a moment during the massage when she had seen him as more than just the stubborn laird she had found beside the road. He had become human to her.
CHAPTER FIVE
The following two days passed in relative peace and silence as Eleanor avoided him at all costs. Callum had regained more than enough of his strength to stay out of bed for the day and now sat whittling in front of the fire.
Each even stroke of the blade curled another shaving of wood onto the floor, leaving a large pile of kindling at his feet.
At least the lass’s dirk was good for somethin’.
