She poured a little water on the clean rag and moved back to him.
“I’ll use this to clean away the blood,” she explained tightly. “I want to see how bad it is.”
Gingerly, she placed the damp cloth on his skin, just below his shoulder. Warmth seeped out of his body; she could feel it on her wrist. Carefully, so as not to aggravate the wound, she swiped downwards, cleaning away a stripe of half-dried blood.
It occurred to her then that she could simply have asked Evander to use the cloth on himself.
Ye are an idiot, lass,she told herself tiredly.Too late now. It’ll look odd if ye suddenly shove the cloth at him after ye already started helping.
His gaze tickled, fixed on her as she worked. He made no attempt to hide how openly he was watching her.
“I’m sorry about me braither,” she heard herself say. “Hunter can be aggressive when the people he cares for have been hurt.”
“Daenae apologize for him. I would have done worse.”
Her gaze flickered briefly up to him. She set her jaw.
“Aye, I suppose ye would,” she murmured.
Once the blood was cleaned away, she could see that the wound was not so bad. It was barely larger than the tip of her little finger, and not very deep. Freshly cleaned, it bled sluggishly, but already scabs were forming at the edge. It would heal nicely, but doubtless there would be a scar. Just a small, puckered scar, resting over his heart.
A memento of me,she thought grimly.
She moved to step back, to pick up the gauze, but never quite managed it. His hand shot out, his fingers gently curling around her chin and tilting her face up to his.
Her chest tightened, pupils dilating. Forced to look up at him, her breath stuttered in her throat, and she felt as though she couldn’t quite fill her lungs with enough air.
“What are ye doing?” she managed. She’d intended it as a sharp rebuke, but it came out as a weak, panicked yelp.
“I want ye to look at me,” he breathed.
His eyes were dark, so dark, and the dancing firelight cast shapes and shadows over his damp skin.
She yanked her chin free. He made no attempt to hold her in place, allowing her to totter back a few steps. The imprint of his fingers still burned into her skin, although she knew without looking in a mirror that there’d be no bruises, no red marks, no sign at all that he’d ever touched her.
“What are ye doing here?” she burst out. “What do ye want? Are ye here with the annulment?”
“I havenae annulled our marriage.”
She growled. “Ye said that ye would.”
“I ken what I said.”
“Why have ye nae done it yet? Are ye going to?”
“Nay,” he responded simply.
She drew in a breath, steeling herself. “I daenae understand ye. I daenae understand ye one bit, Evander. Why are yehere?”
Once again, he ignored her question and took a single step forward, closing the space between them.
The sensible thing, of course, would be for Skye to retreat and perhaps call for a servant. She could ask for Evander to be thrown out of the keep after all. Hunter would be pleased enough to make that happen.
Instead, she stood stock-still, watching him, her heart fluttering like a bird in a cage.
“I didnae annul our marriage because I daenae want our marriage to be over,” Evander confessed.
“Ye said?—”
