Page 49 of Hold Fast

A cottage. She wanted a cottage. She didn’t want to be the source of gossip. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t concern herself with talk, but that didn’t seem fair. It certainly didn’t seem considerate. And he wanted to be considerate with her. He wanted to take care of her.

“Ye can have the cottage,” he said with a sigh.

“Thank you,” she said, and he was miserable.

“But nae too far away,” he insisted because the truth was that it would drive him mad to not be able to check on her, to see how she fared.

“Itcannaebe too far,” Una agreed. “If Fenella is telling the truth and I am to stitch a MacDonald at least once a week, ’twould be terribly inconvenient to have to travel verra far so often.”

He snorted a laugh and then groaned.

“It will be a few days before I can have something ready for ye.”

She nodded. “I understand. But perhaps before Connor is fully out and about?”

Ewan clenched his jaw again. “As you wish.”

Una stitched him quickly. He watched her face as she worked, noting the way she stuck the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her mouth when she concentrated, the way her blue eyes darted quickly. From time to time, she would check in on him, and his answer was always the same. “I am fine.Carry on.”

But he wasn’t fine. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had beenlessfine. Her hands were all over him, holding the wound closed and stitching with the other. The room felt as hot as the fires of hell itself, and he wondered if it was his body’s response to the injury or to her. And though it felt unspeakably good when she smoothed the salve over the stitches, the pain of being sewn whole again outweighed any pleasure he might have derived from looking at her, from her other touches.

He felt feverish by the time she had finished dressing the wound. She pulled the sheet up to the middle of his chest, straightening and smoothing the material and resting her palm over his heart. He couldn’t look away. She leaned down and pressed a long kiss to the center of his forehead. He sucked in a surprised breath, and Una pulled back far enough to look him in the eye.

“Una,” he rasped.

She shook her head. Leaning closer again, she kissed his cheek. Then the other cheek. She pulled back, the tips of their noses touching, and he could feel her mint-scented breath on his lips. He tipped his chin up, and his lips met hers. He half expected her to bolt, but she didn’t. Instead, with a sigh, she kissed him back.

It was a tender kiss, a lover’s kiss, and he felt as if his heart would pound its way out of his chest to rest in peace and pieces in her hand. He lifted a shaky hand and cupped the back of her head.

She tensed and pulled away.

He wanted to shout, “I’m sorry!Come back! I beg of you!”

But she surprised him again by kissing his forehead once more.

“Rest,” she said, smoothing her other hand over his wild hair. “You must rest.”

She took a step back. She would leave. She would gather her medicines and walk out that door and leave him alone with the knowledge of how her lips felt, how theyreallyfelt. And she would go about her magical day, healing and tending and he would be stuck in this bed, caged andaching

“Dinnae leave,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I must finish making a remedy for one of the kitchen maid’s daughters.”

He nodded. She was important. People depended on her. People depended on him too, but she moved through that need with a grace and confidence that he envied. He’d never felt so at ease in all his life as she looked while she worked.

“But,” she said, and he froze. “If you rest, if youpromiseme that you willnae get up and rip all my fine stitches out like I ken you’re itching to do, I will come back and sit with you when I have finished”

“Whatever you ask. Whatever you want,” he blurted, not caring in the least how very much like a lovesick youth he sounded.

She squeezed his hand before taking her leave, and Ewan allowed himself to slide into a shallow, dreamless sleep. When he blinked his eyes open, it was dark outside the window and the fire blazed high in the hearth. He was still exhausted and in pain, aching with disappointment that she had not come. Or, if she had, she was gone.

But then, from the shadow beside the bed, he heard a hum. Not a tune as much as the impression of one. He looked out the corner of his eyes and saw her there, sitting next to the bed and darning a sock.

“You came back,” he said, his throat dry.

“I promised I would,” she replied, lifting a cup of water to his lips and tipping it gently in. He swallowed the cool water. “Now, back to sleep. We heal when we sleep, and you must rest so that I have a chance at any peace at all.”

He smiled before closing his eyes and diving back into oblivion, her soft humming showing him the way.