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“My cock often thinks I am tryin’ tae kill him, och nae… maybe ye would give me a sweet kiss tae wake him up?”

I dropped my skirts and gave him not a kiss but a look of exasperation. “I think you are trying to talk me into coming closer and waking up Mr Cock, and yet, you promised we would go get food. We do not have time for you to ravage me, and though that sounds fun, and I love you, Torin, and I’m sorry about your sleepy cock — we must eat.”

He lifted the sheet again and spoke to his cock, “Ye see what ye hae done, ye dinna wake up and now she has lost interest. Ye ought tae hae gotten full of splendor, we might hae drawn her near and convinced her tae relent.”

I shook my head laughing. Then I pulled the veil over my hair saying, “We need you dressed.”

“Are ye certain I canna remain bare-arsed? My splendor is more likely tae earn me that kiss.” Even his voice sounded stronger, rough with disuse, but steady.

“I’m not entirely sure your bruised and battered body can be called splendor.”

“Yet m’cock inna wounded at all, I promise ye, he is fine, but why inna he wakin’ up?” His frown was pronounced. “Tis worse than m’ears nae workin’.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Your cock is usually splendorous, Torin, magnificent, but you’re still healing. Tomorrow he’ll be wide awake and it’s just as well, in order to properly rejoice with him, I would need to undress, and you would need to kiss me everywhere, all the places. I have been very frightened, for days, that you were going to die, you will need to kiss me and really put some effort into the whole thing to prove that you are perfectly well. Can you do that now, as hungry as you are?”

“Ye are speaking sense, Princess.”

He looked down under the sheet again. “Though m’appetite for yer body is large, m’cock is still sleepin’ and the copulatin’ might not be as satisfyin’ as ye like, because I am weak with hunger.” He grinned. “And now I will need tae dress, even though I ken ye enjoy the sight of me undressed. I must. The monks winna be as awed by my splendor in their refectory.”

The monks had left clothes folded on the wooden chest — a plain linen shirt, a length of wool in a muted brown plaid, a leather belt, and hose. I picked up the shirt. “I will have to touch you to help you dress, can I trust you not to take it further?”

He smiled. “Aye, ye can trust me, m’cock has been subdued.”

He let me guide the shirt over his head. “Lift your arms.”

He obeyed, all the activity finally dislodging Dude who jumped off the bed, clearly irritated.

I worked the shirt into place, easing it down over his wounded shoulder and tugging it down the planes of his chest, his bruised abs.

I did greatly want to kiss him there. Maybe drag my tongue along his newly washed chest.

His face very close to mine, he raised his brow. “Ye thinkin’ on something, Princess?”

I nodded, “Yes, I want… I will kiss you here, later.”

“Yer promises will keep me goin’.”

I reached for the folded tunic, in a bright blue color, sitting on the stool. “Let’s see, how will we get this over your shoulder?”

I put the neck opening over his head, then he pushed his good arm through a sleeve. I said, “There, good, you can just keep your injured arm inside and⁠—”

He winced and shoved his injured arm through the other sleeve, groaning. “Och nae, tis painful.”

“You didn’t have to, Torin, you could have just kept your arm by your side!”

“My arm inside the shirt? How would I spar?”

“You! Will! Not! Spar!”

“Och, ye daena understand.”

I picked up the belt and wrapped it around his waist.

He watched me with an expression of amusement. “Ye look like a fine Highland maiden, dressin’ yer laird.”

I playfully smacked his good shoulder, “I am a princess, Albannach,” I pulled the belt tight. Then I asked, “Did you have many maidens dress you?”

“Dressin’ is not the usual order of it.”