Molly grumbled under her breath, but nonetheless reached out and took the paste from him. She scooped a small amount onto her fingertips, then gently spread it over her arms. Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise.
“That’s amazing,” she breathed. She looked up at Conall with an unmistakable look of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you.”
Conall smiled, pleased that his remedy had worked so well. “Ye’re welcome lass,” he said softly.
It was there again, that strange sensation that filled him whenever she looked at him like that. The air between them seemed charged, full of expectation. How would it feel to reach out and run his fingers through that luscious hair of hers? How would it feel to kiss her?
He coughed, looking away. “I...I’ll check the fire.”
Molly’s smile faded, to be replaced with a frown that scrunched up the skin of her nose as she reached behind her back, scratching.
“Ah! I’ve got some bites on my back but I can’t reach. Would you do the honors?”
He looked at her and she obligingly held her hair up out of the way. Conall swallowed. She wanted him to touch her? Didn’t she realize what that would do to him? Ah, damnation. How could he refuse when he was the one who’d made her the paste in the first place?
He scooted closer and reached out to gently run his fingers across the skin of her back. He could feel the bumps of the insect bites beneath his fingertips. He took a deep breath, then dipped his fingers into the paste.
Molly gasped as he began to spread it over the bites on her back, his fingers moving in slow, gentle circles. He tried to keep his touch light, but it was hard when every fiber of his being was urging him to pull her closer.
She let out a soft sigh as he worked, her body relaxing under his touch. Conall couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how he was able to ease her discomfort. But as he worked, he became more and more aware of the woman beneath his hands. The curves of her back, the warmth of her skin, the way her hair fell around her like a curtain.
He found himself leaning closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to her skin. He could smell the sweet scent of her hair. His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he fought to keep himself in check. He knew he needed to stop before things got out of hand.
Conall removed his hands and scooted back. “Ye are all set, lass,” he said, his voice rougher than he would have liked.
Molly turned to face him, her eyes searching his face before dropping down to his chest. Her gaze lingered there before coming back up to meet his.
“What about you?” she asked, gesturing at the paste on his hands. “Want me to put some on your back?”
He shot to his feet. “That willnae be necessary. I’m not bitten.”
It was a lie, of course, and he suspected she knew that. “I’ll just go wash this off. Dinna touch the mud. Let it dry and then just brush it off.”
Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and strode down to the stream where he knelt on the bank, staring at his reflection. He looked the same as ever. Same hair that always seemed a mess no matter what he did to tame it. Same ugly face. Aye, he looked the same, but he didn’tfeelthe same.
Something inside him had changed and he suspected the woman waiting back at camp was the cause. With an annoyed grunt, he quickly dabbed the paste on the worst of his bites and then washed his hands in the stream and returned to Molly. She was sitting cross-legged by the fire, squinting as she wove several pieces of grass together.
He sat down opposite her. “What are ye doing?”
“Making us some plates,” she replied. “I know Fiona gave us plenty of supplies but I don’t remember seeing any crockery amongst them.”
“From grass?”
She nodded. “You can make all sorts of things: mats, plates, baskets. I’m not as good as my da but he taught me a few things.” She smiled at the memory.
Conall cocked his head at her. “It sounds as if ye are very close to him.” He wondered what that was like. He’d never been close to his own father. And now, after what he’d learned in Lanwick...
Molly reached up to finger the silver knot-work necklace that hung around her neck. She nodded. “I am.”
Conall couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy he felt hearing her talk about her father in such a way. “I’m glad. It must be nice to be so close to yer family.”
“You’re not close to yours?”
“No,” he replied stiffly. “I’m not.”
They sat in silence for a while longer, the crackle of the fire the only sound.
“Hungry?” he asked at last.
