He reached up again, with wonder this time, to touch her hair, a nimbus of fire around her head.
“Beautiful, merciful angel.”
“Rest. ’Tis that will heal ye, if anything can.”
“Ye will heal me.”If anything can.“Do no’ leave me,” he begged even as his eyes dropped shut.
“I will no’.”
He slept and dreamed he was once more on the battlefield, lying beneath his fellow clansmen—all dead. He saw her face appear before him and awoke with a start.
To discover he lay in her arms.
But nay. Nay, he had to be still dreaming. For none of this could be true. Him, lying in a clean, soft bed with the warmth of her pressed against him and her arms flung around him as if—as if she would hold him from all harm.
Such bliss could come to a man only in dreams.
He shifted carefully, both because he did not want to rouse the tortuous beast in his arm, nor to wake her. He eyed her, testing the reality. Her red head lay on the bolster beside his, so close he could feel the tickle of wild curls against his cheek. She lay on her side, curved toward him, sound asleep.
Och, bliss!Could a man ask any more than this?
But where was he? Where were they? The fire had died while they slept, but light came in through a narrow window. The chamber, small but comfortable, seemed to cradle him just like the mattress. Just like her arms.
Not a cell, then.
Unmoving and still unwilling to disturb her rest, he took stock of himself. He no longer shivered with cold. That might be because Rhian gave off a steady heat. And the pain in his arm—not gone, nay, but not so fierce as it had been either. He could move his left arm, both legs. The right arm still lay useless. Another part of him, though, was on the rise, reacting to Rhian’s nearness.
Nay, but he could not allow that. He wanted Rhian, aye, but not in a carnal way. He softly corrected himself—notjustin that way. Her kisses were welcome. But he desired her, needed her on a much deeper level.
So he disciplined his body, all of it, to quiet, and just lay waiting for her to wake.
She did so slowly, first stirring against his shoulder; the arm flung across him twitched. He knew the moment her wits came alive because her breathing changed. She released her hold on him and shifted away in the bed.
“Och, I must have fallen asleep.”
She sat up and eyed him. He looked back at her, heart swelling.
The dark red hair spilled in a mass down her back. Her cheeks had flushed with sleep. She looked impossibly beautiful.
“Forgive me. Ye would no’ stop shivering last night. I lay down to keep ye warm.”
“I do no’ mind.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. Leaning forward, she placed her palm on his brow. “Your fever has broken.” Gladness filled her face. “It must ha’ been that draught.”
He did not argue it, even though he knew very well it had been the night spent in her arms.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Farlan arrived notlong after Leith and Rhian finished sharing breakfast. Rhian kept eyeing Leith all the while they ate, assessing his condition and looking happier than he’d seen her before.
“How d’ye feel?” she asked as he fed himself, using his left hand.
“Weak as a lamb,” he answered ruefully. But better, as he had to admit.
“And the pain in your arm?”
In truth, it had spread to his whole shoulder. “Less. Much less.”
