her side. Storm might need him, if only to hold on to a friendly hand against the pain.
“This requires stitches if it is to heal properly,” Janelle said when she finally uncovered the wound.
“Do what you must and get it over,” Storm encouraged.
“I’ll help,” Burke offered.
“There is nothing for you to do, begone,” Storm ordered.
Burke laughed. “I don’t think so. I’m staying right here.”
“And if I don’t want you here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, squatting down on his haunches beside her. “I’m staying by your side.”
Storm reached out hesitantly, finally pressing her hand to his cheek. “You are a stubborn one.”
“Dependable, Storm,” he corrected. “I’ll be there for you when necessary.”
Her smile was sad and touched his heart. He didn’tknow what it was about this woman that made him feel so protective of her. It made no sense, and yet he didn’t fight the notion. He simply did what he felt was right, and it felt right to see to her safety.
“This will be painful,” Janelle said.
Burke winced while Storm simply nodded.
“What can I do?” he asked, anxious to help in any way he could, though more anxious to ease her pain if possible.
“Hold her,” Janelle said. “It will be easier for me and less painful for her if she remains still.”
Burke grinned, pressing his nose to Storm’s. “How lucky am I? I have an excuse to hold you.”
He almost regretted his words after they left his mouth, especially when he witnessed the confused look on Storm’s face. She didn’t seem to know what to make of his remark, though it was obvious. He enjoyed holding her.
“Have you ever felt the sting of stitches?” Storm asked, resting her head on his.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and moved in close beside her, leaving her injured side free. “Sting, you say?” He guffawed. “I’d say more like a needle pulling your flesh together.”
“Thank you for so vividly reminding me.”
Burke was quick to amend his response and take her mind off her pending pain. “I’m a coward at heart.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.”
Burke was impressed by the seriousness of her tone. “Why not?”
“You have proven yourself a courageous warriorin the short time I have known you. I doubt the sting of stitches would upset you.”
Janelle cleansed the wound, then signaled him that she was near ready to begin, and Burke hoped to distract her as much as possible.
“Twenty-five stitches is what did the trick,” he said, keeping his head rested against hers.
“Tell me,” Storm said, her hand reaching out to grab hold of his. “Was it a blade, an arrow, a fierce fight that won you the honor of a scar?”
“It was…” He paused, meeting her eyes so close that he could tell that one eye was slightly bluer than the other. “A pitchfork.”
“A pitchfork?” Storm asked with a gasp as the needle pierced her skin for the first stitch.
“A mighty weapon, I might add,” he said dramatically. “I was but a lad of ten years and challenged by friends to take a dive into the haystack.”
Burke hurried to continue when Storm squeezed his hand as Janelle made the next stitch. “It was a dare I could not refuse.”
“Your honor was at stake,” Storm agreed.
“You understand,” he whispered, and his lips drifted to her ear as her hand squeezed his harder.
“Honor must be defended,” Storm said with difficulty as Janelle made a third stitch.
“And I did a superb job,” Burke bragged, and was relieved to hear Storm chuckle and rest her head to his shoulder. “I positioned myself just right for the dive.”
Storm glanced up at him, and he was caught in the depths of her blue eyes. Her pain was obvious but sowas her strength. They battled for dominance, and he had no doubt which would be the victor.
“Without making certain of what awaited you?”
“I was ten,” he offered as an excuse.
“And about to learn a hard lesson,” she said
“This requires stitches if it is to heal properly,” Janelle said when she finally uncovered the wound.
“Do what you must and get it over,” Storm encouraged.
“I’ll help,” Burke offered.
“There is nothing for you to do, begone,” Storm ordered.
Burke laughed. “I don’t think so. I’m staying right here.”
“And if I don’t want you here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, squatting down on his haunches beside her. “I’m staying by your side.”
Storm reached out hesitantly, finally pressing her hand to his cheek. “You are a stubborn one.”
“Dependable, Storm,” he corrected. “I’ll be there for you when necessary.”
Her smile was sad and touched his heart. He didn’tknow what it was about this woman that made him feel so protective of her. It made no sense, and yet he didn’t fight the notion. He simply did what he felt was right, and it felt right to see to her safety.
“This will be painful,” Janelle said.
Burke winced while Storm simply nodded.
“What can I do?” he asked, anxious to help in any way he could, though more anxious to ease her pain if possible.
“Hold her,” Janelle said. “It will be easier for me and less painful for her if she remains still.”
Burke grinned, pressing his nose to Storm’s. “How lucky am I? I have an excuse to hold you.”
He almost regretted his words after they left his mouth, especially when he witnessed the confused look on Storm’s face. She didn’t seem to know what to make of his remark, though it was obvious. He enjoyed holding her.
“Have you ever felt the sting of stitches?” Storm asked, resting her head on his.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and moved in close beside her, leaving her injured side free. “Sting, you say?” He guffawed. “I’d say more like a needle pulling your flesh together.”
“Thank you for so vividly reminding me.”
Burke was quick to amend his response and take her mind off her pending pain. “I’m a coward at heart.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.”
Burke was impressed by the seriousness of her tone. “Why not?”
“You have proven yourself a courageous warriorin the short time I have known you. I doubt the sting of stitches would upset you.”
Janelle cleansed the wound, then signaled him that she was near ready to begin, and Burke hoped to distract her as much as possible.
“Twenty-five stitches is what did the trick,” he said, keeping his head rested against hers.
“Tell me,” Storm said, her hand reaching out to grab hold of his. “Was it a blade, an arrow, a fierce fight that won you the honor of a scar?”
“It was…” He paused, meeting her eyes so close that he could tell that one eye was slightly bluer than the other. “A pitchfork.”
“A pitchfork?” Storm asked with a gasp as the needle pierced her skin for the first stitch.
“A mighty weapon, I might add,” he said dramatically. “I was but a lad of ten years and challenged by friends to take a dive into the haystack.”
Burke hurried to continue when Storm squeezed his hand as Janelle made the next stitch. “It was a dare I could not refuse.”
“Your honor was at stake,” Storm agreed.
“You understand,” he whispered, and his lips drifted to her ear as her hand squeezed his harder.
“Honor must be defended,” Storm said with difficulty as Janelle made a third stitch.
“And I did a superb job,” Burke bragged, and was relieved to hear Storm chuckle and rest her head to his shoulder. “I positioned myself just right for the dive.”
Storm glanced up at him, and he was caught in the depths of her blue eyes. Her pain was obvious but sowas her strength. They battled for dominance, and he had no doubt which would be the victor.
“Without making certain of what awaited you?”
“I was ten,” he offered as an excuse.
“And about to learn a hard lesson,” she said
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