Page 22 of Scot of Deception
“Let me see.”
“Nay.”
Kathleen stared at him and he stared right back, neither of them willing to back down first. If Blaine wanted to be stubborn, though, and act like a child, Kathleen figured she could simply treat him like one. Marching over to him, she grabbed his arm just as he was about to pull back, her fingers wrapping tightly around it.
He could easily escape her grip if he so wished. He could brush her off and Kathleen would have no choice but to leave him alone, but Blaine only stood there, facing to the side but looking at her from the corner of his eye.
He looked like a cornered animal to Kathleen. It was a ridiculous notion, like imagining a lion cornered by a rabbit, and yet the strangeness of it didn’t make it any less true—only more unsettling.
Slowly, gently, as if trying not to spook him, Kathleen pushed Blaine’s tunic back to reveal a wound on his right shoulder. It was small, no bigger than her thumb, but it was clearly still fresh, with pink, jagged edges, sluggishly oozing fluid. Blaine hadn’t even bothered to dress it properly, though there was a sheen and an herbal scent to it that told Kathleen he had at least applied some paste.
Under the soft light of the fire, she saw other, older scars marring his skin. They seemed to be everywhere, in every part of his torso that she had revealed; long, thin lines with straight edges, shorter ones in irregular shapes, some which had widened with time, stretching the skin. She had neverseen someone with so many. Her cousins both bore signs of their battles, scars that looked much like Blaine’s, but from what Kathleen had seen, they were nowhere near as many.
How many battles has he fought? How much pain has he felt in his life?
Before she could think better of it, she traced one of those old scars with her finger—one that ran down the length of his ribs, stopping right above his waist.
Blaine drew in a trembling breath, his skin erupting into goosebumps under the pad of Kathleen’s finger. For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, equally stunned by the boldness of her action. Before Blaine could say a thing, though, Kathleen jumped back from him, cheeks flaming and stomach tightening with something she couldn’t name—a strange, urgent desire, so intense and demanding that the source of it escaped her.
“Ye must… we must clean it,” she said, mumbling to herself as she pulled her kerchief out of her pocket and rushed to the waterskins, dampening the small cloth. When she returned to Blaine, he stood just where she had left him, so still and silent that he resembled a statue. That suited Kathleen just fine, though; she could clean the wound, put her mind at ease, and never mention any of this again as long as she lived.
With quick, methodical movements, she made sure the wound on Blaine’s shoulder was clean of fluid and blood and the residue from the ointment. She hoped he had some more of it with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. The silence, oppressive as it was, was better than the possibility of her voice cracking with embarrassment and desire, revealing everything she was trying to hide from him.
She was grateful for the darkness; in it, she could pretend she was calm and collected, unaffected by the feel of Blaine’s body under her hands.
The entire time she worked on the wound, Blaine said nothing nor did he move at all. He simply let her do as she pleased, muscles twitching ever so slightly with each touch she gave him, rippling invitingly under her hands. She imagined those muscles working to pull her close, to lift her, to hold her against the wall. She imagined feeling the strength of his hands on her body, surrendering to it?—
Before her thoughts could stray too far, she withdrew, wordlessly walking over to the small basin at the other end of the room to wash off her kerchief and her hands. Shame coiled in her stomach like a serpent, threatening to poison her at any moment. How could she be thinking about such things about a man she hardly knew—a man who was over a decade her senior and who, by all appearances, was only irritated by her presence?
It would only do harm, allowing herself to be lost in such fanciful daydreams. Once they had reached Castle Stalker, Kathleen would make sure she would never be near him again.
Hardly any words had been exchanged between them since Kathleen had cleaned Blaine’s wound. Once she had finished washing her kerchief and he had finished eating, she gathered all the food that was left in her bag and then draped her cloak near the fire, settling down onto the floor to fall asleep.
But sleeping was impossible. The floor was hard and though the fire warmed her enough for her to be comfortable, the howling of the wind as it passed through the gaps in the wooden planks of the hut, the windows, and the door kept her awake. All around her, there was a cacophonous whistle that never seemed to cease and the more she tried to fight the noise and force herself to fall asleep, the more sleep evaded her.
Blaine seemed in no hurry to rest. Even with his shoulder injured, he was sitting a little farther away with his back to the wall, half-illuminated by the fire as he sharpened and oiled his blades. There were so many of them; Kathleen didn’t know where he could have stashed them all, but he kept pulling one after the other out, until he had a collection of no fewer than eight around his feet.
Why does he need all of these? How many couldhe possibly use?
“Are ye expectin’ an attack?” she asked. Blaine glanced at her as if surprised to hear her voice before he shrugged a shoulder.
“I wouldnae think it impossible, considerin’ how we met,” he said. “It’s better tae be prepared fer these things. If ye’re prepared, then nay matter what happens, ye ken ye did yer best.”
Kathleen didn’t know what to say to that. If there was one thing she hadn’t been when she left her home, that was prepared. She had left without considering what could happen to her, without making any proper arrangements, without even a weapon on her person. What had she expected? How could she have thought her journey would be devoid of any danger?
She was surprised her cousins had allowed her to leave in the first place. Now that she was out there, in the wilderness, she could finally understand the dangers of traveling alone, and she was certain that she would not have made it this far without Blaine, even if she hadn’t been attacked.
“Can I ask ye somethin’ else?” Kathleen said and Blaine snorted in response.
“Ye’ll ask me either way, willnae ye?”
Kathleen didn’t even try to deny it; there was no point.
“Why have ye nae wedded?”
She didn’t know whether she should expect a response at all, but it was a question which had plagued her mind for too long. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Blaine may not have been the most socially adept person she knew, but he was a stunning man and an important member of the Farquharson Clan. Surely, he could have his pick of wives. The fact that he was still a bachelor confused her as much as it unsettled her.
What she was truly asking was,what is it about ye that makes ye an undesirable suitor?
