Page 125 of The Highlander Who Protected Me

“Good. Because I’m going to put some liniment on that leg right now.”

Royal opened his eyes to see Ainsley hoisting her skirts and then caught a glimpse of her pretty ankles and calves as she scrambled up onto the bed. The tops of her breasts merrily jiggled over the confines of her bodice as she scooted over to him.

God, she was truly going to kill him.

“Hand me the bottle, will you?” she asked.

Royal found himself clutching the covers around his chest like an outraged maiden aunt. “No.”

As she pulled the bedclothes away from his leg, wadding them to the side, she glanced up at him with a frown. “Are you worried I’ll hurt you? I promise to be very careful.”

“The only thing I’m worried about is how I’ll control my reaction if you start touching me.”

She briefly eyed his erection, once more tenting the sheets. “That thing? I suppose we’ll just have to ignore it, won’t we?”

“Easy for you to say.”

“If I can pay it no mind, then I’m sure you can too,” she said, sounding a bit like a stern schoolmistress.

Perversely, Royal found that image even more arousing.

“Besides,” she added, “massaging in the liniment probably won’t feel very nice, so I suspect that will take care of the problem.”

He made one last effort. “The scar is gruesome.”

“Royal, I am not hen-hearted,” she scoffed. “Now give me the bottle.”

When she held out an imperious hand, he sighed and handed it over.

She folded the sheet over twice, deftly obscuring his embarrassing erection. Of course, that also left him lying with only his nightshirt between them.

“Can you lift up the hem of your garment?” she murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He shifted as he reached down, wincing at the stab of pain. Carefully, he exposed his mangled thigh.

Her harsh intake of breath conveyed her shock at the appalling brute of a scar high up on his leg—one the width of a hand. The skin was puckered over the damaged muscle, white in some places and faded purple and red in others. The doctors had stitched and braced him as best they could, but the combination of the lance and the trampling had turned his leg into a horror. The bones had eventually knit, although not perfectly, and the flesh had pulled together into the ghastly scar. It had taken months, the wound opening twice in the process and resulting in even more stitches.

Finally, though, the muscles had bulked up and were growing stronger every day. But it would never be less than a vile sight, and he couldn’t help flushing with embarrassment under her gaze.

“This was a mistake,” he said, reaching for the hem of the nightshirt.

Ainsley swatted his hand away. “Don’t be an idiot. I had to see it sooner or later, didn’t I? We will start sleeping together at some point.”

“Ah . . .” he said, sounding exactly like an idiot.

“And since that is the case, let’s take this opportunity to get used to each other. Practice, as it were.”

Her gaze held a complex mix of emotions. He saw sadness there, along with more than a bit of nerves. But mostly he saw determination, a need to rise to whatever challenge this represented for her. And if she needed this, how could he say no?

He gave her a rueful grin, trying to lighten the moment. “When you put it like that, how can I possibly refuse?”

She flashed him a quick, relieved smile. “You know, you’re reallymuchsmarter than people give you credit for.”

He had to laugh outright.

But his amusement died when she uncorked the liniment bottle and carefully tipped the viscous liquid into her hand. “Ready?” she asked.

He nodded, unable to utter a word but nearly undone by the thought of her hands finally touching his body.

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