Page 5 of Love Me Forever
Her eyes grew even wider.
He offered an explanation. “I had no choice but to remove your clothes. They were torn and dirty. And I needed to see how severe your injuries were. I could carry only you and thought to return later for your chest, but I have been reluctant to leave you alone.”
She said not a word but gave him a brief nod, letting him know she understood.
“Relax,” he said softly, his hand slipping slowly beneath her back. “I will not hurt you.”
The strength in his arm was remarkable, for he moved her with the gentlest of touches, his other hand pushing the pillows beneath her back and head so that she lay reclined. She suffered only the slightest discomfort and paid it no heed, for her new position eased her aching body.
“That feels much better,” she said, sending him a brief smile. “Thank you, you are most kind.”
He stared at her a moment with an intensity that could frighten; she, however, slowly raised her hand to gently touch his swollen lip. “I wish I had the basket of herbs my sister-in-law Moira had sent along with me. I have something that would help relieve your swelling.”
He eased his hand out from beneath her back and adjusted the blanket around her. It had slipped down when he had moved her and near exposed her naked breasts. But then he had already seen all of her, and that thought disturbed her. What had he thought of her body? Every time her husband had made love to her, he had told her that her body was undesirable. He had made her flaws known and had made it known how inadequate a lover she was. But what did that matter now? This man was not interested in her in such an intimate way.
“Something troubles you?” he asked, his confident voice assuring her he could ease any concern.
She stared at him, uncertain how to respond.
He seemed to understand her hesitation. ‘Trust me. I will not hurt you.”
She continued to stare at him, wondering over the battle that had caused such vicious scars. He had fought hard and suffered. She wondered if the battle had been victorious or if he had suffered defeat and if his scars would always remind him of that day. And she wondered why he had chosen to reside here in this cottage alone. Why had he not returned to his clan?
With so many questions and not one answer, she wondered how she could trust this stranger. The answer was simple, for it had repeated in her head too often.
She had no choice.
He understood by the resigned look on her face. “I will get the broth.”
She watched him walk off. If he suffered any other injuries, they could not be detected, for he moved with strength and confidence. It seemed his face had taken the brunt of the battle, and she could only imagine the horror of it all.
Her eyes grew heavy as she watched him ladle the broth into a bowl from the black pot over the open flames, and try as she might she could not force them to remain open. She thought to rest them for a few moments, just a few, but as soon as they closed, she slipped into a restful slumber.
Royce returned with bowl in hand to find her sound asleep. He had not the heart to wake her. She needed as much rest as possible, and while the food would help aid in her recovery, he could always feed her later when she woke.
He returned the bowl to the table and then returned to the bed, adjusting the covers over her to make certain she stayed warm. He had come upon the coach by accident. He had not planned to take that trail when out hunting for food, but now he was glad he had. It had been obvious that the two men had been thrown from the coach and died on impact.
He had been surprised to see that anyone inside the coach had survived. When he had discovered her body, he had thought for certain that she had suffered fatal wounds. She had not, though her body was badly bruised and her pain considerable.
He had not realized the extent of her bruising until he began to undress her and the faint purple marks began to surface, and they would only grow worse over the next day before they subsided and began to heal.
He could not help but notice her beauty. Her long dark hair fell in a riot of curls down her back and around her face. It mattered not how many times he would push them off her face, the stubborn curls would return with a bounce and determination—much like her personality, he realized. Her features were soft, her complexion a creamy pale, and her eyes were a vivid blue that put the color of the sky to shame.
She stood a bare three or four inches over five feet and she possessed a body that captured the eye and melted the heart. She was stunning. She had full breasts, with large rosy nipples and a narrow waist that gave way to curving hips. Her skin was soft and silky, the type he could touch forever and never grow tired of.
He had not, of course, touched her intimately. She was injured and required aid, and he tended her in such a manner, keeping his thoughts from straying, though not always successfully. He had been too long without a woman. He had never found it difficult to find a willing woman, and being he lacked a wife, women were his to enjoy.
Of course, if he had such a beauty as Brianna as a wife, he would look no more; she would forever be in his bed.
He ran a careful hand over the scars on his face and shook his head slowly. How would women see him now? Would they scream in fright as Brianna had? Would they turn away in disgust where before they eagerly joined with him?
The battle he had fought had been victorious and a necessity, but he had suffered greatly, losing many men and leaving him with horrendous memories and scars that would never truly heal.
He had decided to heal alone. He needed this time of solitude, this time away from his clan… this time to think. He had not counted on a companion and one that required tending. He had his own wounds to heal and there were many. How would he ever help another when he had difficulty helping himself?
It did not really matter. She needed him. She was helpless, alone, and dependent on him for her care. Why that had made him feel good he could not say. He only knew he wished to protect and care for her. Perhaps in caring for her he cared for himself, and they would heal together.
She stirred and came out of her sleep, his name on her lips. “Royce?”
