Page 14 of A Gypsy in Scotland
Lash fought to sit upright.
“Mierda,” he growled in Spanish as tiny stars danced in his vision and pain tore through his chest. He fell back against the bed, out of breath. Exhaustion pulled at him. His last vision was of the door cracking open a woman entering the chamber.
A soft voice lured him back to consciousness a third time.Angelic. It was her, the angel he had heard speaking earlier. How long ago had that been? Days? Hours? Minutes? Her voice flowed over his skin, and he drank it in, like sweet honey soothing the aches and pains of his body. Had she been the one who found him? It did not seem like such a hardship to oweherhis life.
The voice stopped.
Instant protest rose inside him. Where had she gone?
Lash blinked open his eyes. And blinked again.
Jewels of amber peered back at him.
“Och, you are awake. I’ve been wondering the color of your eyes for days now. They are green, aye, but I couldn’t recall if they had flecks of gold in them or not.”
Lash stared nonplussed as she leaned closer and squinted to peer deeper into his eyes. His first instinct was to rear back, but his head could burrow into the pillow only so deep. The woman was invading his space with no care. He didn’t know whether to be fascinated or horrified.
Her soft lips arched into a tender smile and tiny wrinkles appeared at the corner of her eyes. No shadows veiled her soft, heart-shaped features—they were open, innocent, curious. Her hair was the color of earth laced with locks of sunset. Tiny freckles covered her nose.
“Andthey are rimmed by an even darker outline of green. How refreshing.”
Refreshing?
“I am Honoria MacCallan. I found you on the hill gravely injured.”
She said nothing more as she stared at him, waiting for a response that would not be forthcoming. He dared not speak to her.
A small frown creased her brows. “You were stabbed. Do you recall what happened?”
Lash clamped his jaw tight. Her curiosity was bothersome. What concern was it of hers? His heart skipped a beat. He could think of only one reason—they wished to alert the authorities—if they hadn’t already.
What blistering luck.
The urgency to leave increased tenfold.
“Do you know who stabbed you?”
He bit down on his teeth.
“It was someone you trusted,” she stated, eyes imploring. “Was it not?”
Lash stiffened. She could not possibly know that. A wild guess?
“You are a big beastie,” she went on to say as if reading his thoughts. “And not a man, I wager, to let someone take a jab at you. Not in the chest.”
Except when he did not see it coming.
Impressed, though nonetheless wary, Lash pursed his lips. The angelic creature was intelligent and saw far too much with her amber eyes. And for some unfathomable reason, he felt drawn to her. To converse would be a mistake. One which he did not wish to calculate the consequences. Better not to speak to her at all.
“Do you have a name?” she probed.
He stared at her.
The furrow between her brows deepened, and Lash inwardly cursed. He disliked the confusion that entered her expression. He liked less that he had put it there.
What was wrong with him?
Caring what agadjithought was not like him. And yet, even though he knew the moment he opened his mouth he’d be lost, he opened it anyway. “Lash.”
