Page 21 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

“All right,” he agreed, thinking how dangerous it would be for her to be so near since he could not rely on his body to behave.

“We’ll have tae get ye out of those trews somehow,” she told him, going to the hearth and pouring some hot water from the kettle into a bowl, to wash his wound.

“I’ll dae it mesel’,” he replied, alarmed by the thought of being without his trousers in front of her. She came back with the bowl and set it carefully with the other things on the nightstand.

“It’ll be easier if I give ye a hand,” she said. “If ye try tae dae it by yersel’, ye could dae more damage tae yer leg.”

“Ach, I suppose so.” Thankful all traces of an arousal had subsided, for the moment at least, he rolled back the covers and unfastened his trews. He tried to slither them down over his hips, but as soon as he had to put pressure on his leg, he groaned as pain stabbed at him.

“Lie still and let me dae it,” she insisted, bending over him and taking hold of his waistband, slowly working it down over his hips. Arne groaned inwardly and clutched at his shirt tails, anxious not to reveal too much of himself.

Because he could see straight down the front of her dress, getting an eyeful of her plump, pert breasts. Much as he fought against it, he was getting excited. He deliberately jogged his wound, so the pain would distract him, and he forced himself to look away.

Thankfully, Raven seemed oblivious to his struggles. “Now, if ye slide yer hands down inside and hold the leather away from yer wound with yer palms,” she was saying, “I should be able tae gradually slip the trews down below yer knees without touchin’ yer thighs. All right?”

“Mmmm,” Arne murmured, seeing no alternative but to agree. He did as she asked, gritting his teeth and focusing on the pain as her hands brushed the area around his groin. Inch by inch, the trews came down, until Raven was finally able to pull them down over his ankles. While she did that, Arne breathed a small sigh of relief and pulled his shirt down over his hips and thighs as far as he could, to hide his nakedness.

“Ye didnae cry out, so I’m assuming ye felt nay pain from it. I’ll try tae be as gentle with yer wound when I’m cleanin’ it,” she said, giving him a small smile. Against his better judgment, he was touched by the way she was so determined to care for him.Does she still care fer me?

She was still the most alluring woman he had ever seen. He tried not to remember the sensation of running his fingers through her long, silky black tresses, as he had loved to do, feeling the softness tickling his skin. But the inscrolling memories would not cease.

They cascaded through his mind like tumbling playing cards—the memory of what it was like to have her slender, naked body pinned beneath his on the bed, his tongue sliding between her full lips, lying belly to belly, drinking in her pale, elfin features, drowning in her remarkable amber-brown eyes. He could see them now, looking deeply into his, flickering golden in the firelight, like the eyes of a mountain lioness.

All this replayed in his mind as he watched her while she removed the old dressing, discarded it, and then gently cleaned the wound with a wet, warm cloth. Again, he felt the breeze of her breath on his skin. Goosebumps rose all over him, and he silently thanked God for the pain of what she was doing, for it was the only thing saving him from giving way to his lust.

Raven bent even lower, her face only a short distance from his thigh, short enough to feel her warm breath tickle his thigh She worked deftly, and every now and then, her finger tips would brush his skin tantalizingly, ending tremor of lust through him.

Arne’s eyes were riveted on her. She appeared completely focused on her task, apparently unaware of the discomfort he was suffering as he tried not to look at her breasts. Tension filled the air and crept through his limbs, keeping pace with the shameful thoughts racing through his brain.What if I grabbed her now, by the waist, and dragged her over here and kissed her?

“That looks nice and clean,” she said at last, getting rid of the washcloth and looking down at her handiwork, her hands on her hips. “I’ll put the salve on and then a clean bandage. That should hold ye ‘til the mornin’. And ye can have yer next dose of willow bark tea before ye sleep.”

“Thanks,” Arne said, his voice deliberately gruff as he sought to control himself. It was an exquisite torture when Raven bent over his thigh once more, this time carefully applying a layer of the salve Meg had given them. Then, she put on a clean dressing and secured it firmly with bandages, her palms brushing his thighs.

“That’ll dae,” he exclaimed suddenly, afraid the dam would burst if she did not stop touching him.

“All right,” she replied, looking at him in surprise. When she noticed his hard expression, she pursed her lips and added, “Never mind, I’m done anyway.”

He could tell he had hurt her. Once again, he felt like a barbarian. She could never guess the war that was raging inside him, the one side bent on revenge for the anger and pain she had caused him, the other yearning to take her in his arms, for everything to go back to how it once was, to a time when they had been happy together.

He lifted himself up to a sitting position against the pillows and pulled the covers up to his waist, ignoring the twinges in his leg.

“What is Thorsten like?” She suddenly asked, crashing through his steamy imaginings instantly, dispelling some of the tension.

In a way, the change of topic and mood was a relief for Arne, yet his distrust of Raven and her intentions towards Thorsten made him ask, “Why d’ye want tae ken?”

Her eyes flashed at him, and she put her hands on her hips. “Because he’s me son! And I’ve nae seen him since he was a wee bairn. I want tae ken what he looks like, who he resembles, how he talks, what it feels like tae cuddle him—all the things a mother wants tae ken about her bairn.”

She was panting slightly by the time she finished speaking, and her passion was obvious.She really cares about Thorsten.

“Well, now, let me think,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, bringing his son to mind. The thought of Thorsten’s little face warmed him. “He’s about so-high,” he indicated with his arm about two-and-a-half feet from the rug.

“Och, so he’s tall then?” she said, her face alight with pleasure.

“Aye, tall fer his age. I like tae think he has me eyes.”

She smiled and clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Just as I remember.”

“Aye.” Arne’s heart melted a little more towards her when she said that.

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