Read Online Bride of Dunloch (Highland Loyalties) by Veronica Bale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Veronica Bale
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them on her. She swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Well ... do not thank me yet. We must still change your salve, and I assure you, you shall not thank me for the pain—now that you’re awake.”
“I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut,” he answered with a faint grin.
With great care, Jane untied the knot in the bandage. It turned out to be an advantage to them both that she’d only managed to wrap it once—now that she had to remove it. When she lifted the salve to clean the wound, the man winced as the honey, stickier now that it had begun to dry, pulled at the flesh around the gash. His stomach muscles contracted against the unpleasant sensation, and Jane felt a blush stain her cheeks at the intimacy of his unguarded reaction.
“Is it bad?” he enquired through clenched teeth.
“Yes, it is,” she answered truthfully. “I shall need to clean it again.”
The man closed his eyes, preparing for the pain as Jane filled the bowl she’d brought with the warming water from the cooking pot. She took a clean strip of linen, dabbed it in the water, and pressed it to the angry, red wound. The man hissed sharply with indrawn breath, and instinctively his hand clamped down on her free hand. She grasped it back, squeezing in sympathy.
“I’m sorry, sir, I know it hurts,” she said.
“Will ye do something for me?” he panted as she dabbed.
“If I can, sir,” she responded.
“Will ye no’ call me ‘sir’? I’ve told ye, my name’s Robbie.”
Even through his obvious discomfort, there was a hint of a grin on his shapely mouth, and Jane found herself grinning back.
“Robbie,” she repeated.
She worked fast, removing the crusted honey and fresh blood from the infected gash. Only when she’d finished did she realize she’d been holding Robbie’s hand the entire time. Suddenly shy, she let go, and rinsed the linen in the bowl with both hands. She then turned to her neatly laid row of supplies. Selecting a fresh strip of linen, she folded it into a square, and poured a fresh dollop of honey onto it.
“What is that?” he inquired.
“Honey,” she answered. “It will draw the infection from your wound.”
“I havena heard of that. Where’d ye learn such a thing?”
She shrugged indifferently as she placed the fresh salve on his wound. “My grandmother taught me healing.”
“Is that why ye’ve been forcing that wretched drink down my neck all night?”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “The thyme brings on the sweats to cool your body. Now that you are more aware and will need help to sleep through the night, I shall add willow bark to the infusion to dull the ache.”
“And the chamber pot?” he added. “What might ye be using that for?”
Jane paused and bit back a sheepish smile. “Two pots missing from the kitchen would have been missed ... it has been thoroughly washed, I promise you.”
“Right,” he answered, grimacing.
“Just be grateful I’m trying to help at all,” she returned, a touch defensive. “At least I’m not asking you to drink anything that’s been in here.”
She tried to hold a stern expression, but the quiver of laughter on his lips diminished her incense.
“I am grateful ... for all ye’ve done.”
“It’s nothing,” she said modestly. “Now help me to lift you up so that I can wrap your bandage properly this time.”
Jane bent over Robbie and wedged her hand beneath his bare back and the dirt floor; his powerful arm reached across himself and gripped her shoulder. With a grunt, she helped him to pull himself into a sitting position. The strain was evident on his face as he held himself up by leaning back on his free hand.
She worked quickly, securing the bandage snugly around his stomach. Then, with just as much effort as it took to raise him, she helped to lower him again. All the while she was keenly aware of the proximity of his face to her own. His mouth was so close to her throat that she could feel his hot breath on
“Well ... do not thank me yet. We must still change your salve, and I assure you, you shall not thank me for the pain—now that you’re awake.”
“I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut,” he answered with a faint grin.
With great care, Jane untied the knot in the bandage. It turned out to be an advantage to them both that she’d only managed to wrap it once—now that she had to remove it. When she lifted the salve to clean the wound, the man winced as the honey, stickier now that it had begun to dry, pulled at the flesh around the gash. His stomach muscles contracted against the unpleasant sensation, and Jane felt a blush stain her cheeks at the intimacy of his unguarded reaction.
“Is it bad?” he enquired through clenched teeth.
“Yes, it is,” she answered truthfully. “I shall need to clean it again.”
The man closed his eyes, preparing for the pain as Jane filled the bowl she’d brought with the warming water from the cooking pot. She took a clean strip of linen, dabbed it in the water, and pressed it to the angry, red wound. The man hissed sharply with indrawn breath, and instinctively his hand clamped down on her free hand. She grasped it back, squeezing in sympathy.
“I’m sorry, sir, I know it hurts,” she said.
“Will ye do something for me?” he panted as she dabbed.
“If I can, sir,” she responded.
“Will ye no’ call me ‘sir’? I’ve told ye, my name’s Robbie.”
Even through his obvious discomfort, there was a hint of a grin on his shapely mouth, and Jane found herself grinning back.
“Robbie,” she repeated.
She worked fast, removing the crusted honey and fresh blood from the infected gash. Only when she’d finished did she realize she’d been holding Robbie’s hand the entire time. Suddenly shy, she let go, and rinsed the linen in the bowl with both hands. She then turned to her neatly laid row of supplies. Selecting a fresh strip of linen, she folded it into a square, and poured a fresh dollop of honey onto it.
“What is that?” he inquired.
“Honey,” she answered. “It will draw the infection from your wound.”
“I havena heard of that. Where’d ye learn such a thing?”
She shrugged indifferently as she placed the fresh salve on his wound. “My grandmother taught me healing.”
“Is that why ye’ve been forcing that wretched drink down my neck all night?”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “The thyme brings on the sweats to cool your body. Now that you are more aware and will need help to sleep through the night, I shall add willow bark to the infusion to dull the ache.”
“And the chamber pot?” he added. “What might ye be using that for?”
Jane paused and bit back a sheepish smile. “Two pots missing from the kitchen would have been missed ... it has been thoroughly washed, I promise you.”
“Right,” he answered, grimacing.
“Just be grateful I’m trying to help at all,” she returned, a touch defensive. “At least I’m not asking you to drink anything that’s been in here.”
She tried to hold a stern expression, but the quiver of laughter on his lips diminished her incense.
“I am grateful ... for all ye’ve done.”
“It’s nothing,” she said modestly. “Now help me to lift you up so that I can wrap your bandage properly this time.”
Jane bent over Robbie and wedged her hand beneath his bare back and the dirt floor; his powerful arm reached across himself and gripped her shoulder. With a grunt, she helped him to pull himself into a sitting position. The strain was evident on his face as he held himself up by leaning back on his free hand.
She worked quickly, securing the bandage snugly around his stomach. Then, with just as much effort as it took to raise him, she helped to lower him again. All the while she was keenly aware of the proximity of his face to her own. His mouth was so close to her throat that she could feel his hot breath on
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