Until now. The prospect of having Leith in her bed had opened a door in her mind, letting certain images flow through. Prompting particular questions.
How would the man taste—everywhere? Salty? Spicy? Arousing?
How would his skin feel beneath her tongue? Coarse? Rough? And if she plowed her tongue through the hair on his chest? Followed the trail of hair that led ever lower?
By heaven, what was wrong with her? The man was far too ill for such indulgences. He was dying.
Still. Still and all. Once she had him tucked up in her bed, once they were alone in her chamber, she would have the chance to find out.
If she chose.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The voices cameto Leith from a distance and roused him from the welter of pain in which he lay. Easier by far to ignore them, give himself up to the burning oblivion that held him.
And yet—he recognized both, and one of them called his name.
“Leith, man! Can ye no’ open yer eyes and look at me?”
He could not. He lay there breathing, just breathing against the agony.
The second voice said, “Mayhap ’twould be best to move him while he remains senseless. It might hurt him less.”
Aye, that voice he knew. The power of it flooded him with awareness and strength enough so he could open his eyes after all.
They hung above him, the both of them, in the stone hut. He remained here then, a prisoner, even though it felt as if he’d flown far. Farlan looked direly worried and somehow grief-stricken. Who had died? And Rhian MacBeith’s lovely, calm face also showed unhappy emotions.
She looked at Farlan. “I do no’ want to hurt him anymore.”
Farlan shook his head. He spoke to Leith as to a child. “Leith, we need to move ye. We will do it as carefully as we can.”
To Rhian he said, “The wound has been bleeding.”
“I ha’ never seen a wound to match it. It refuses to close over, whate’er I do.”
“Where—” Leith tried to speak and could not tell if he succeeded. “Taking me?”
“Hush now.” Rhian laid her hand on his chest. Comfort and healing flowed into him in equal measures.
She touched him. But not for long enough. All too soon she stepped away, and he heard her speaking to someone else. A commotion ensured.
Suddenly the hut became crowded with people. They swarmed him, jostled him, lifted him, which gave the pain sharper teeth. He could no longer see Rhian, but he got a glimpse of Farlan. Steady, reassuring.
He floated, tilted, felt as if he would fall. Before he could, the darkness came crashing down.
*
“Leith, can yehear me?”
He had stopped moving, and it had gone quiet apart from Rhian’s voice. Dim light flickered against his closed eyelids. The pain blotted out everything else.
“Rhian?”
“Aye, ’tis I. Drink this.”
A vessel was tipped against his lips and a small amount of liquid flowed into his mouth. He choked on it.
Arms came out around him and lifted him up. The vessel tapped his lips again.
