Page 56 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
“What were ye thinking, Edmund? Ye’ve more skill in yer littlest finger than that… that… brute has in all his body.”
He laughed and pulled her close. “I like it that ye’re so riled up on me behalf, lass. Why, yer eyes are dark and sparkling, and I havenae seen that toss of yer head before. Ye look fierce enough tae conquer Harris wi’ naught but the arrows flying out of yer bonnie gray eyes.”
“But ye allowed him tae win.”
“I did at that. Yet methinks he has it in his mind now that he can best me. I thought it wise tae allow him tae underestimate me.”
She sighed. “All the same, I was afeared fer ye.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Ye had naught tae fear, I kent every move he made. He was ne’er a threat tae me.” He gave a soft laugh. “And this,” he gestured tae the cut on his arm, “this is nay more than a wee scratch. Yet he will think himself the stronger and quicker of the two of us. Such a mistake may lead him tae reveal more of himself.”
Annora gave a shrug. “But now that he has exposed his true enmity toward ye, ye can be on guard against him.”
“Aye.” He looked at her thoughtfully as he tapped on the infirmary door. “He is the enemy, and I suspect it was he who was responsible for that rock that dropped from the heavens and could so readily have taken yer head off.”
“That is awful.” She shrugged. “Poor Tyra, tae be tied tae such a man.”
“I daresay the lass has nay idea of what he is truly like.”
They entered the infirmary and, the healer, a bent, aged, gray-haired woman beckoned them to take a seat on the old timber bench leaning a little haphazardly against the wall. Beside the fire, bunches of various herbs were drying, while along the ceiling rafters were already hung with a myriad variety of dried herbs. There were shelves groaning under stacked jars of salves, bottles of potions, stores of seeds, and little pots of strange herbs sprouting their tiny green tips above the soil.
The air was filled with a pungent mix of thyme, sage, mint, wolfsbane and many other herbs Annora did not recognize.
“I am Zabina,” the healer said as Annora introduced herself and Edmund.
“Please remove yer gambeson,” Zabina ordered. “There are fibers and specks of dirt that will have embedded in the cut I wish tae cleanse.”
Edmund undid the many hooks and ties holding the front of the gambeson together and, with some assistance from Annora, peeled it off, leaving his arms and chest bare.
While Zabina dabbed at the still oozing cut, Annora couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over his body. From his broad, muscled, shoulders, to the strong forearms, his big hands with their long fingers, and across his broad chest and over the lick of dark hair growing there. And what a feast it was.
Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of him and her mind fled unbidden to the brief moment she’d beheld him naked. Her entire body yearned for him, her breasts tingling, their nubs hardening. Her fingers itched to reach out and trace the splendid outlines of his body.
She caught Edmund’s eyes on her as Zabina applied a salve to the cut on his arm. She laughed, feeling the heightened rush of heat to her cheeks.
“D’ye like what ye see, lass?” he asked.
She pshawed. “Why ye’re too cheeky fer yer own good. What makes ye think I was noticing ye at all? I was merely interested in the healer’s manner of dressing yer cut.”
He chuckled, shaking his head disbelievingly. She felt another fierce rush of heat through her veins and lowered her eyes for fear of what he might see in them.
It was the work of only a few minutes for Zabina to apply the salve and bind the cut with a length of clean linen.
“Leave that until tomorrow. By then it should be healing, free of infection or fever.” She saw them to the door, handing Annora a small jar of salve to apply the next day and closed the door firmly behind them.
They walked together to the keep hand in hand. Edmund was bare chested, his gambeson over his arm, drawing a few amused glances from the servants they passed.
Tormod appeared as they neared the staircase leading up to their chamber.
“Are ye well, Edmund? I heard about the unfortunate incident wi’ Laird MacDonald.”
“Och, it was nay more than a wee scratch, Chief Tormod.”
Tormod nodded, looking up and down at Edmund’s disheveled state. “Mayhap we shall have a chance tae speak of it another time. Ye’ve a more pressing need at this time.”
“Oh?”
“Aye lad. Ye need tae don a shirt and make yerself decent. Ye dinnae want tae shock yer good lady wi’ yer nakedness.”
