Page 23 of Keeper of the Flame: Orrick

“He’s not my great-grandfather,” spat Orrick, not able to tell her the truth.

“If he’s not your grandfather and not your great-grandfather, then who is he to you? Perhaps some kind of uncle?” she asked, still holding the book and looking at him in question. “Or your father, even though he seems much to old?” she asked when he didn’t answer.

“It doesn’t matter and it’s none of your business.” He reached out and snatched the book away from her. When he did, his hand touched hers and a jolt of excitement buzzed through him.

Mayhap it was just from the fact he wasn’t used to the shapeshifting, or perhaps it was because he was tired from the swordfight, but his head dizzied and he had to reach out and hold on to the bedpost to keep from falling.

A fog encompassed his brain. Although his eyes were open, darkness covered his sight. First, he saw the smiling face of his late wife, Petronilla, and then he saw his younger self, sneaking into the guardian’s chamber to steal the Eternal Flame.

“You were never meant to be the Keeper,” growled a low, male voice in his ears that sounded a lot like that of the man who used to guard over the flame. “You need to make things right. Give the flame to the next guardian soon or it will be too late and your immortality will be naught but a curse.”

The pounding in Orrick’s head was overwhelming. His body became very heated and his heart raced, threatening to pound right out of his chest. His vision started to return, but was so blurred that he could barely see Hope sitting on the bed. Then he thought he heard her saying something, but his world spun and he could no longer stand. His knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed atop the bed. That was the last thing he remembered.

Chapter 7

“Sir Rick!” cried Hope, jumping up and catching his body just as he fell atop the bed. “You must be weak from your injury. Lie down and I’ll find a healer.”

“Nay,” he mumbled, sounding as if he were half-asleep. “Don’t leave me. Please. Promise me you won’t go. I don’t want to be alone.” He reached out for her and she took his cold hand in hers, not at all sure he wasn’t dying. His breathing seemed shallow and his eyes were closed.

“I won’t leave you,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She knew it was too much for him to be up and about. He’d acted as if the wound was nothing, but it must be worse than he was letting on. To see a hardened warrior crumble so easily was overwhelming. One minute he was strong and demanding and the next he was begging her not to go as if he were afraid. “I’ll be right here,” she assured him, reaching out and smoothing back his dark hair. He was a very handsome man. Not to mention, he was a very good kisser. Hope felt an attraction to him, even though he was a stranger to her. She really knew nothing about him. He was so mysterious – just like that old sorcerer.

Not sure what she should do, she held his hand until he started snoring. Then, she figured she would check his wound before she went for help. She didn’t think anyone had stitched him up. If not, he was going to start bleeding again and his wound would never heal.

Reaching out, she lifted his tunic gently, eyeing up his taut stomach. There was a white strip of cloth wrapped around his torso but, oddly enough, it seemed loose. Still, there was no blood leaking from his incision. She pushed up the bandage to check his wound, thinking she had the wrong side when there was nothing there. She looked on his other side, but that wasn’t injured either. The only thing that said he’d been injured at all was a little dried blood on his skin and the bandage.

Having to know for sure, she reached out and touched him, feeling his skin, looking for the wound. His skin felt smooth beneath her fingers, and she let her hands trail higher. She couldn’t stop herself from running her hands over the muscles in his chest, wickedly enjoying touching him although he was sleeping.

Without even realizing it, a small moan of pleasure lodged at the back of her throat.

“You like that, my sweet angel, don’t you?”

She jerked her hands away in surprise and her gaze flew to his face. His eyes were half-open and he was looking right at her. He’d caught her at a very embarrassing moment. As her heart drummed in her ears, she wondered what she’d been thinking to touch him in this manner.

“I – I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling mortified to be caught touching an injured man while he slept. It was improper behavior for anyone – especially a noblewoman. Then again, she reminded herself that it didn’t look at all as if he’d even been injured. She didn’t understand what was going on. “I saw Lord Irwin stab you in the side with his sword today,” she told him. “Yet, I can’t seem to find the incision.”

“I’m a fast healer,” he told her in a deep, sexy voice that sounded to her as if he were still half-asleep.

“Nay. You couldn’t have healed from that! Not that fast. Plus, you don’t even have stitches. How do you explain that?”

“It’s easy to mistake what you thought you saw.”

“Nay! I saw it, I know I did. Lord Irwin stabbed you, right after he nicked your hand. I saw the blood. I heard the sound of the blade piercing flesh.” She reached out and pulled the bandage off his hand to see that there were no nicks on his hand either. “I don’t understand this. How can it be?”

“Sometimes, my little bird, things are naught but an illusion. Our minds play tricks on us and we don’t know what to believe.”

“I suppose that could be true, but not in this instance.”

“Shhhh,” he said, reaching out and pressing his finger against her lips. “You always did talk too much.”

“I did?” She did tend to ramble on at times, but how did he know that? They’d only just met. Plus, he said did instead of do. This man confused her.

“Come to me, my love. Kiss me like you know you want to.”

That surprised her because she wasn’t expecting him to say that at all. She thought he was about to chastise her for touching him, or mayhap even punish her for stealing the sorcerer’s book. But something happened and he changed from being angry to being lovable in the matter of a blink of the eye.

“I – I don’t want to kiss you,” she lied. “I don’t know why you’d think I do.”

“Because, you are in love with me, sweetheart. Just as I am in love with you.”