Except that Caitrin was with him. He would protect her with his life.
“Ach, nay!” Her outcry startled Jamie out of his thoughts but sent a surge of adrenaline rushing into his blood. He spun to face her, concerned at the frown that had replaced her usually sunny expression. Blood streaked the back of her hand.
“What’s amiss, lass? What happened?”
“I’m daft as a stick,” she complained and bent to tear a bit of cloth from her undershift, exposing her low boot and trim woolen-stocking-clad ankle.
Jamie would have enjoyed the view save for the blood on her hand.
“I canna do it. Jamie, can ye help me?”
He set the basket aside and knelt by her foot. “Of course. Let me see.” He took her hand in his and studied the wound on its back. Not a snake bite, thank the saints. A long scratch. Deep enough to bleed freely, it dripped warm blood onto his hand.
“I went after some berries as a treat for us in that patch of brambles,” Caitrin told him with a nod in its direction. “Instead of just picking the new leaves the healer wanted and leaving the berries for the animals.”
“’Tis deep enough, it does need to be wrapped.”
“Ye can tear a length from my shift’s hem. When ye are done, we still need to pick some leaves.”
He bent to tear the cloth as she directed, tempted, but for the circumstances, to touch her ankle, to run a hand up her calf to see if her legs were as strong with muscle as he thought they must be. But that would be improper in the extreme. He retrieved the cloth, muttering, “I hope this wasna yer favorite shift.”
Caitrin laughed softly.
Jamie glanced up and nearly choked at the gleam in her eyes as she watched him. If he had the nerve, he’d stand and kiss her, right then and there. But instead, he grinned, took her hand and gently bound it in the cloth. “That should stop the bleeding and protect it until we get back. “The healer will tend it. Likely, ye will have a scar, but mayhap nay.” If she did, would looking at it remind her of him?
“Thank ye, Jamie,” she told him, inspecting his work. “Thank ye for coming with me, and thank ye for taking care of me.”
He stood, and her gaze lifted to meet his. “I will always take care of ye, lass. I care about ye.”
“I ken ye do.”
Something in her tone gave her words extra weight, but before Jamie asked how or why, she spoke again.
“And I for ye, Jamie Lathan.” She lifted her uninjured hand to his cheek. “Ye are a good friend to me. One I will treasure always.”
Jamie’s heart lifted at her words. “As I treasure ye, Caitrin,” he said, his voice dropping soft and deep. He laid his hand over her smaller one. “More than ye ken.” Should he kiss her? Would she welcome it?
Her gaze shifted to the side.
He held his breath and fought back the urge.
She laid a finger over his lips and held up her other hand.
At first he thought she had divined his intention and meant to keep his lips away from hers.
But in a moment, he understood she meant to silence him. He heard what had stolen her attention from his confession.
Voices. Male voices. Unfamiliar male voices.
Jamie nodded, took her arm, and gestured with a tilt of his head toward the glen and the safety of the Aerie. Caitrin picked up the basket with her good hand. He led her that way, moving as silently as he could, his free hand on his dirk. She matched him, step for quiet step, her expression fierce, eyes narrowed and head cocked as if listening for followers.
Good lass. Jamie was proud of her courage even as he hurried them away. The voices moved deeper into the forest and soon faded. Still, he didn’t take a full breath until they were out from under the trees and back in the glen, in full view of the Aerie’s guards.
“Who were they?” Caitrin whispered so softly, he barely heard her over the hum of the bees floating from flower to flower.
“I dinna ken,” Jamie said and pursed his lips. “’Tis unusual to have strangers this close to the Aerie.”
“Ye will tell the guards, aye?” She turned and looked up at the Aerie’s walls.
