Keir frowned. “Gils needs to check—”
“Gils can check it after I have bathed.”
“Gils said—”
“Who is the healer here?” I took a step.
His lips quirked. “Master Healer, if I remember right.”
I smiled. “The Master wants a bath.”
He smiled. “Then Master, you shall have one.” He wrapped his arm around my waist as we walked together to the privy. Thank the Goddess for his people’s attitude toward cleanliness. I was grateful that he didn’t question my need to be clean any further.
Once inside, Keir placed one of the wooden blocks on the washing platform, and I sat to strip off my trous and breast band. They were both soiled, but not harmed. As long as I moved slowly, the pain was no more than a dull ache. Keir put water within my reach, then handed me soap and a cloth. I got a whiff of the soap and held it to my nose. It smelled like vanilla. I looked at him, but he wore an innocent expression on his face.
Marcus called from the other room, and Keir moved about, taking a bucket of hot coals for the brazier, and more water. I washed out my breast band as the room warmed. I lathered up the soap and started on my face and neck, enjoying the scent of home. The arm wasn’t a problem, as long as I didn’t try to raise it, or use that hand over much. I hummed quietly to myself as I washed. The tepid water felt wonderful on my skin, and I was careful to keep the wound dry as I worked.
Keir came back in and settled in the corner, where the shadows were deepest. I glanced over quickly, but could only make out his eyes, gleaming in the darkness. I blushed slightly, bit my lip, but kept going. It felt uncomfortable to be watched so, but it was also somehow satisfying, to know that I was the object of his interest. My feelings confused me, so I concentrated on getting clean. When I reached my groin, I sensed a slight movement in the corner, but I moved on quickly to legs and feet and toes.
Keir did move forward at that point, bringing another bucket of water over to me. It had been closer to the brazier, which meant the water was slightly warmer. I used a bowl to rinse with, for fear of getting the wound wet. Once done, I wrapped up in the towels that he gave me. I decided against washing my hair.
I was tired and felt a trembling that indicated I needed to eat. Instead, I grabbed a comb and tried to stand.
Keir swept me up, and carried me into the bedroom, placing me on one of the stumps close to a brazier.
“I can walk, you know.” I started to comb my hair. “Your turn.”
Keir made a negative gesture.
I lifted my head, sniffed the air, and raised an eyebrow.
He took the hint. He went out and brought in two more buckets of water, and fed the brazier again. Then he returned, stood in the center of the room, and looked at me.
I rested my eyes on him. He was glorious in that black leather, which fit him like a glove yet let him move like a cat. He lifted a hand to his collar and started to loosen the lacings of his jerkin.
I couldn’t look away. He pulled the lacings out ever so slowly, pulling them out to their full length, then starting on the next one. When he finished, he lifted the ends of his shirt, and ever so slowly pulled the leather up and over his head.
I stopped combing.
The man was certainly healthy. I swallowed hard. The faint light of the brazier shone over his muscles as he carefully placed his leather jerkin on one of the benches. He sat to remove his boots, and the thick socks underneath. He sat for a minute and wiggled his toes. He stood and nonchalantly started to unlace his trous. Slowly.
I turned my back to him. I’d cared for many a naked man in my time, but the sight of Keir’s body was different somehow. It affected me. Made me want to reach out and touch him—to feel those muscles move under his skin. To experience more of his touch, and maybe a few of his kisses. The idea made me shiver.
I could feel his amusement on the back of my neck. There were sounds behind me, as he removed the trous. I bit my lip again, finding that the imagining might be even more embarrassing then the actual seeing.
My fingers continued to run the comb through my hair, but my mind was elsewhere. The sounds stopped.
He drew my hair off to the side, and kissed my neck.
I jerked as lightning coursed through my body. Tingles ran from my neck right to the soles of my feet. I turned my head quickly, but all I saw was a brief glimpse of the tent flap falling into place behind him. I sat for a minute, waiting for the tingling sensation to pass. My hand kept combing my hair, but it took a long time for the sensation of his lips to leave my skin.
By the time Keir emerged, Marcus was loading the table with too much food, and Gils had crept quietly into the tent to change my bandage.
For something that felt like an enormous hole in my arm, the wound was small. It looked good, with no signs of angered flesh or swelling. Gils changed the bandage with meticulous and agonizing slowness. I complimented him on his work, and then meekly accepted a dose of fever’s foe. He’d brought some of the liniment, and he applied it carefully to my neck, all the while casting glances at the privy entrance as if Keir was going to leap out at any moment, battle-raged, and swords in hand.
Finally, Gils sat back on his heels, looking satisfied. “I’s checked Atira, Warprize, and she’s well. And Simus let me look at his leg.”
“How is it?” I asked.
