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“I’m sorry I couldn’t come back before she did. I absolutely hated hearing what that monster did to you.”
My voice threatened to break, but I swallowed the emotion.
“For what it’s worth, Isabeast is perfect. I nearly called her that at dinner, which probably would’ve gotten me killed.” I couldn’t stop the smile, remembering her sitting across from me at the table. “Father took one look at her mouth and threw her out before she touched her food. You should’ve heard her trying to defend herself around those stitches. I nearly laughed at her.”
When he didn’t react, I tipped his chin up and examined the cut on his right cheek. Dirt clung near one edge, and the swelling had worsened since morning.
“This may need stitches too, but I’m afraid my skills end somewhere between baking and stealing medical supplies from my own vanity.”
I released his chin, and his head fell forward again. Then I opened the bottle of antiseptic.
The pungent, medicinal smell rose between us.
“Good thing you’re unconscious, because you’d hate me for this.”
I poured a little onto a clean cloth.
“Although you may already hate me. We haven’t established that yet.”
I lifted the damp cloth toward his cheek, then stopped inches from the wound.
“I promise I’m trying to help.”
“You always talk this much when you think a man’s unconscious?”
A yelp ripped out of me. I jerked back hard enough to splash antiseptic over my fingers, my heart hammering against my ribs. Only then did I register how rough his voice was, little more than a scraped-out rasp. After all that silence, it might as well have been a shout.
Lachlan’s head snapped up, and the corner of his mouth lifted.
“That wasn’t funny.”
“Your little scream was.”
A rough huff of laughter escaped him, and pain tightened his face.
“Good. You deserve that for frightening me.”
“Aye. Probably,” he rasped. “Anyone see you come down here? You’re taking one hell of a risk.”
The question caught me off guard.
Not whether I had the key. Not whether I’d brought more water. Whether I’d been seen sneaking in here.
Either he meant the concern, or he knew exactly how to make a frightened woman feel safe enough to help him.
I suspected both.
“No one saw me. I waited until the veranda emptied and the lower corridor went quiet.”
“You came through a hidden entrance, right?”
“Yes. Only one person I trust knows it exists.”
“Lover?”
A startled laugh escaped me. “No. He was my mother’s guard until she…”
The words caught in my throat. I wasn’t ready to talk about my mother. Not with him. Not tonight.
