Page 45 of Fallen
She swallowed. “I will get to that in a moment,” she replied. “First … let me take a look at yer side.”
Craeg hesitated, as he continued to watch her intently. He was probably wondering what was amiss with her. However, he didn’t argue. Not shifting his focus from her, he began to unlace his vest. He then shrugged it off.
The sight of his naked chest was distracting. She’d seen his nude torso before, yet this time it made Coira’s breathing grow shallow, an ache forming just under her breast bone.
Forcing herself to focus, she stepped toward him, set down her basket, and deftly unwrapped the light bandage he wore. Then, bending close, she examined the injury to his left flank.
It was healing beautifully—better than she’d expected. The scab that had formed was dry, and there was no unpleasant smell issuing from it.
“Ye are tough,” she admitted, drawing back from him. “Such a wound would have killed many men.”
Craeg’s mouth curved, his eyes gleaming. “Aye … so I’m healthy enough to swing a sword tomorrow?”
Coira nodded. His proximity was making it hard for her to keep her thoughts netted. The heat of his body was like a furnace, and the warm, spicy scent of his skin made a strange yearning rise within her belly. “Make sure ye bind the injury well first though … or ye risk splitting it open again.”
Reaching for a clean bandage, she wrapped it around his torso, and as she did so, she became increasingly aware of his nearness and the gentle whisper of both their breathing.
The words that he’d said that night returned to her, taunting her. She’d not remind him of that incident. Yet she knew he was watching her, waiting for her to speak.
Coira finished her task and stepped back from him. “Ye can put yer vest back on now,” she said, cursing the huskiness in her voice. She couldn’t let herself get distracted. He looked like he wanted to kiss her, and although part of her yearned for it, her heart suddenly shrank at the thought.
She’d made this journey partly because of him, but the situation was starting to feel too real, too intense. Coira realized then that she wasn’t ready to take the next step, whatever that was.
Craeg did as bid, but as he laced up the vest, his mouth quirked. His eyes darkened as he gazed upon her. “Out with it then … what do ye wish to ask?”
Coira heaved in a deep breath. When he looked at her like that, it was nearly impossible to form a coherent thought. Yet now he’d given her an opening, she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. “Would ye let me remain here?” she asked, the words rushing out of her. “With yer band?”
Craeg’s eyes widened, a smile creasing his face. “Of course, Coira.” He reached forward then, clasping her hands with his. “So ye have left the order?”
Coira nodded. “I must,” she whispered. She was tempted to leave it at that, but her thudding heart warned her that she couldn’t. Craeg needed to hear this story—even if the truth repelled him. She was tired of carrying around her dark secrets. The urge to bare her soul to him was too great.
Coira’s breathing caught. “It’s MacKinnon,” she gasped the hated name. “He’s after me.”
Craeg went still, dangerously so. The joy in his eyes faded, as did his smile. All trace of good humor leached from his face. “Why?”
Dear Lord, please have mercy on me.This was her chance to lie, to cover up a past that she wished belonged to someone else. But she wouldn’t. She’d tell the truth.
“Do ye remember when ye told me about yer upbringing in Dunan?” she asked finally, forcing herself to keep looking at him.
“Aye,” he replied, his tone wary.
“Well.” She cleared her throat then. Lord, this was harder than she’d expected. “I didn’t tell ye at the time, but I knowThe Goat and Goosewell … for I … I worked there for a time.”
His green eyes grew wide at this admission, before they shadowed. In their depths she saw sympathy, and a hard knot formed in her belly in response. She doubted he’d look so compassionate when he heard the next part of her story.
“I arrived around a year after ye left,” Coira pressed on. She lifted her chin then as she continued. “I was yer brother’s favorite whore.”
Craeg’s sharply indrawn breath filled the tent. He drew back, as if she’d just struck him, although he didn’t release her hands. Coira swallowed hard. It was as she’d feared, and yet she forced herself to continue. He might as well know everything.
“My parents were cottars who worked the land near Dunan. They died suddenly, and then I fell on hard times. I was still young when Maude took me on as a serving lass … but when I entered womanhood, I was expected to service the men who visited the brothel—or be cast out onto the street again.” Coira sucked in a deep breath, noting that Craeg’s face had gone taut. “MacKinnon took a liking to me … and then started asking for me each visit.”
Coira broke off there. Saying the words aloud made her feel ill. Surely, Craeg would be revolted by her once he heard it all.
“He liked me to dress up as a nun … and then he’d rip off my habit and use me.” Her voice, raw now, choked off. Suddenly, it was too difficult to continue.
“Coira,” Craeg breathed her name, his voice raw. “Mo chridhe … did he hurt ye?”
My heart.How could he even call her that? Didn’t the truth disgust him?
