Read Online Highlander's Touch by Eliza Knight - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eliza Knight
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“Finish your broth. I’m going to get the salve ready to change your bandages.”
“Och, ye dinna need to do that. I’ll be perfectly well without it.”
She whipped around, a brow raised and a hard glare in his direction. “Ye will not be well at all.” She marched back toward him and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Ye burn with fever.”
Ewan leaned up further on his elbows than the pillows allowed, feeling like he burned with much more than a fever from his injuries. “But lying down did take away the light-headedness.”
Shona groaned, took his empty bowl of broth and pushed him back on the bed. “Lie down.”
“Aye, my lady.” He gripped onto her wrist, feeling the pulse beat fast just below the surface.
Shona’s gaze connected with his, and his own pulse leapt. “Humph. Ye know as well as I do that I’m no lady.”
Ewan shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.” He wanted to kiss her. To pull her on top of him, just like he’d dreamed of doing. The most heavenly dream it had been… He gave another little tug, but she slipped out of his reach.
“We’ll not be doing that again,” she said.
Ewan grinned. “So we’ve done it before?”
She glanced away from him. “I dinna know to what ye’re referring.”
“I think ye do, and I think ye liked it.”
“Ye burn with fever. Ye’d think me a fairy floating on wings if ye wanted to.”
Ewan grinned. “Perhaps I do.”
“Hush now, ye need to rest.” She was glowering at him, but the frown didn’t wash away the spark of awareness hidden behind it.
“I thought ye were going to change my bandages?” He raised a brow in challenge.
Shona stomped toward a pile of folded linens and grabbed them along with two jars. When she returned to him, her creamy face was colored red.
Lord, she was gorgeous.
HE was wicked.
And she was weak.
Shona wanted nothing more than to crawl over top of Ewan and let him kiss her. To feel the length of his arousal grow thick and press between her thighs. To feel his breath on her lips, his hands on her breasts, his tongue stroking fast then slow over her trembling flesh.
She licked her lips, watched his eyes flick toward her mouth.
He was flushed with fever—or desire—she couldn’t be sure which. Probably a bit of both. But it didn’t really matter. He was her patient and she needed to take care of him, not think of seducing him, or even repeating their little kiss. Nettles, but it wasn’t a little kiss…
Shona drew in a deep breath and pushed her desire aside. “Please, put your arms over your head.”
God help her, the wicked man winked. “Are ye going to tie them to the bedpost? Is that what ye like, lass?”
The last of his words were slurred, the whisky and fever combined having taken away his faculties. But even still, the image he evoked in her mind was enough to make her shudder.
She’d not tied a man to a bedpost before, let alone been tied to one herself, but the idea did something funny to her insides. ’Twas potent and overpowering.
Intense curiosity filled her. What would it be like to be restrained? To be full of desire, heat and primal need—and unable to get it.
A shiver stole over her. Her nipples hardened, and between her thighs dampened. Her teeth clamped down on her lip as she kept herself from asking if he minded trying it out.
“Arms, over your head,” she ordered, her voice a little shaky.
“An overbearing chit. I do like them that way.”
“I care not,” she said. Though the heavy ache in her breasts and increasing pressure in her core suggested otherwise. “Sip this.”
She handed him a small vial filled with an herbal tincture that would induce sleep and take away some of his pain. Once he’d drained the vial, she set it aside and removed his bandages and the bog moss, taking note that all bleeding had stopped. The salve she’d used before had dissolved inside his wounds. The edges of his wounds were an angry red, but not
“Och, ye dinna need to do that. I’ll be perfectly well without it.”
She whipped around, a brow raised and a hard glare in his direction. “Ye will not be well at all.” She marched back toward him and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Ye burn with fever.”
Ewan leaned up further on his elbows than the pillows allowed, feeling like he burned with much more than a fever from his injuries. “But lying down did take away the light-headedness.”
Shona groaned, took his empty bowl of broth and pushed him back on the bed. “Lie down.”
“Aye, my lady.” He gripped onto her wrist, feeling the pulse beat fast just below the surface.
Shona’s gaze connected with his, and his own pulse leapt. “Humph. Ye know as well as I do that I’m no lady.”
Ewan shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.” He wanted to kiss her. To pull her on top of him, just like he’d dreamed of doing. The most heavenly dream it had been… He gave another little tug, but she slipped out of his reach.
“We’ll not be doing that again,” she said.
Ewan grinned. “So we’ve done it before?”
She glanced away from him. “I dinna know to what ye’re referring.”
“I think ye do, and I think ye liked it.”
“Ye burn with fever. Ye’d think me a fairy floating on wings if ye wanted to.”
Ewan grinned. “Perhaps I do.”
“Hush now, ye need to rest.” She was glowering at him, but the frown didn’t wash away the spark of awareness hidden behind it.
“I thought ye were going to change my bandages?” He raised a brow in challenge.
Shona stomped toward a pile of folded linens and grabbed them along with two jars. When she returned to him, her creamy face was colored red.
Lord, she was gorgeous.
HE was wicked.
And she was weak.
Shona wanted nothing more than to crawl over top of Ewan and let him kiss her. To feel the length of his arousal grow thick and press between her thighs. To feel his breath on her lips, his hands on her breasts, his tongue stroking fast then slow over her trembling flesh.
She licked her lips, watched his eyes flick toward her mouth.
He was flushed with fever—or desire—she couldn’t be sure which. Probably a bit of both. But it didn’t really matter. He was her patient and she needed to take care of him, not think of seducing him, or even repeating their little kiss. Nettles, but it wasn’t a little kiss…
Shona drew in a deep breath and pushed her desire aside. “Please, put your arms over your head.”
God help her, the wicked man winked. “Are ye going to tie them to the bedpost? Is that what ye like, lass?”
The last of his words were slurred, the whisky and fever combined having taken away his faculties. But even still, the image he evoked in her mind was enough to make her shudder.
She’d not tied a man to a bedpost before, let alone been tied to one herself, but the idea did something funny to her insides. ’Twas potent and overpowering.
Intense curiosity filled her. What would it be like to be restrained? To be full of desire, heat and primal need—and unable to get it.
A shiver stole over her. Her nipples hardened, and between her thighs dampened. Her teeth clamped down on her lip as she kept herself from asking if he minded trying it out.
“Arms, over your head,” she ordered, her voice a little shaky.
“An overbearing chit. I do like them that way.”
“I care not,” she said. Though the heavy ache in her breasts and increasing pressure in her core suggested otherwise. “Sip this.”
She handed him a small vial filled with an herbal tincture that would induce sleep and take away some of his pain. Once he’d drained the vial, she set it aside and removed his bandages and the bog moss, taking note that all bleeding had stopped. The salve she’d used before had dissolved inside his wounds. The edges of his wounds were an angry red, but not
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