Read Online Desired by Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Novel) by Cynthia Luhrs - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cynthia Luhrs
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himself, he pulled the dagger from the fire.
It was now or never. This was going to hurt like a bitch. Hating to cause pain, he took a deep breath and readied himself. ‘Twas the best way to seal the wound.
Pouring more whisky on the blade, the droplets hissing as they hit the steel, he splashed her shoulder once more for luck. Without a moment’s hesitation he seared the skin. The smell of burning flesh hit his senses causing him to swallow hard. The skin popped and crackled, turning red and blistering as the wound sealed together. Screaming, she thrashed, trying to escape from whatever demon was tormenting her. Robert held her down and as her eyes rolled back in her head, she passed out again. Before she woke he did the same to the palm of her hand. Sweat beaded his upper lip and brow, his arms were shaking. Gods, don’t let her scream like that ever again. I’d do anything to spare her pain.
Before he could dwell on the thought, he finished tending her before she came to again. Robert opened a jar of salve. It was made in France by a woman who practiced natural medicine. The crew swore it was magical and could heal anything. Who knew what was in it? Shrugging, he put a dab on the rope burns around his neck. Couldn’t hurt and if it helped him not to flipping ache then all the better. Carefully spreading the ointment over her wounds, he bandaged them, careful of the raw skin.
Skimming his hands over her feverish skin, he admired her form. ‘Twas the palest color of rose, the faint, blue veins standing out in contrast to her fair coloring. The bruises sustained during whatever had caused her to crawl through the sewers, blooming across her shoulder, arms, thighs and torso. Someone had done a number on her. What had happened?
Sitting back in the chair, spent, he drained the whisky and called for Ian to bring him another bottle.
“Is she better, Cap’n? The lady’s bath will be ready by the time you finish eating.” Ian looked anxious standing there.
“Soon, Ian. Thank you for bringing food. I’ll give the ointment time to work then bathe her and you can clear this mess away. Burn it.” He flung his arm out encompassing the bed as Ian left the cabin.
Robert ate, not bothering to change. Cleaning up could wait until after taking care of her. While he filled his belly, his eyes never left the woman in his bed. So many questions to be answered.
Ian came back, cleared away the dishes and addressed Robert. “I’ve brought clean clothes for the lady and the bath is ready.”
Robert inclined his head, distracted. Pushing open the sliding door that separated his room from the dining room, Robert saw the copper tub set up. Steam rose off the water. Towels and soap had been placed on the dining table next to clean clothing for the woman to wear. Had to quit calling her ‘the woman’. Going through her things, he turned the pockets inside out, looking for any clue as to who she was. Nothing. A lump under a chair caught his eye. A filthy, dirty backpack. He sniffed and almost retched. The bag smelled as bad as she did. Within he found twenty quid, wet bandages and a few tolietries. But no identification. Interesting.
Robert threw the backpack and contents onto the disgusting pile that used to be her clothes. Testing the bath water, he nodded to himself. A few steps back to the bed, and he was looking at his unconscious goddess. Bending, he scooped her up. The chit didn’t weigh much, he could count every rib. Lowering her into the bath, mindful of her shoulder, he kept the bandage away from the water. She murmured something as her skin hit the water but didn’t wake giving him time to soap her body.
By the gods, she was filthy. The sewage had seeped through her clothing, coating her from head to toe in the noxious sludge. The soap lathered in his hands, and he kneaded the tension out of her neck and uninjured shoulder as he scrubbed her clean. The woman needed to eat more. Muscles flexed in the water as he
It was now or never. This was going to hurt like a bitch. Hating to cause pain, he took a deep breath and readied himself. ‘Twas the best way to seal the wound.
Pouring more whisky on the blade, the droplets hissing as they hit the steel, he splashed her shoulder once more for luck. Without a moment’s hesitation he seared the skin. The smell of burning flesh hit his senses causing him to swallow hard. The skin popped and crackled, turning red and blistering as the wound sealed together. Screaming, she thrashed, trying to escape from whatever demon was tormenting her. Robert held her down and as her eyes rolled back in her head, she passed out again. Before she woke he did the same to the palm of her hand. Sweat beaded his upper lip and brow, his arms were shaking. Gods, don’t let her scream like that ever again. I’d do anything to spare her pain.
Before he could dwell on the thought, he finished tending her before she came to again. Robert opened a jar of salve. It was made in France by a woman who practiced natural medicine. The crew swore it was magical and could heal anything. Who knew what was in it? Shrugging, he put a dab on the rope burns around his neck. Couldn’t hurt and if it helped him not to flipping ache then all the better. Carefully spreading the ointment over her wounds, he bandaged them, careful of the raw skin.
Skimming his hands over her feverish skin, he admired her form. ‘Twas the palest color of rose, the faint, blue veins standing out in contrast to her fair coloring. The bruises sustained during whatever had caused her to crawl through the sewers, blooming across her shoulder, arms, thighs and torso. Someone had done a number on her. What had happened?
Sitting back in the chair, spent, he drained the whisky and called for Ian to bring him another bottle.
“Is she better, Cap’n? The lady’s bath will be ready by the time you finish eating.” Ian looked anxious standing there.
“Soon, Ian. Thank you for bringing food. I’ll give the ointment time to work then bathe her and you can clear this mess away. Burn it.” He flung his arm out encompassing the bed as Ian left the cabin.
Robert ate, not bothering to change. Cleaning up could wait until after taking care of her. While he filled his belly, his eyes never left the woman in his bed. So many questions to be answered.
Ian came back, cleared away the dishes and addressed Robert. “I’ve brought clean clothes for the lady and the bath is ready.”
Robert inclined his head, distracted. Pushing open the sliding door that separated his room from the dining room, Robert saw the copper tub set up. Steam rose off the water. Towels and soap had been placed on the dining table next to clean clothing for the woman to wear. Had to quit calling her ‘the woman’. Going through her things, he turned the pockets inside out, looking for any clue as to who she was. Nothing. A lump under a chair caught his eye. A filthy, dirty backpack. He sniffed and almost retched. The bag smelled as bad as she did. Within he found twenty quid, wet bandages and a few tolietries. But no identification. Interesting.
Robert threw the backpack and contents onto the disgusting pile that used to be her clothes. Testing the bath water, he nodded to himself. A few steps back to the bed, and he was looking at his unconscious goddess. Bending, he scooped her up. The chit didn’t weigh much, he could count every rib. Lowering her into the bath, mindful of her shoulder, he kept the bandage away from the water. She murmured something as her skin hit the water but didn’t wake giving him time to soap her body.
By the gods, she was filthy. The sewage had seeped through her clothing, coating her from head to toe in the noxious sludge. The soap lathered in his hands, and he kneaded the tension out of her neck and uninjured shoulder as he scrubbed her clean. The woman needed to eat more. Muscles flexed in the water as he
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