Page 22 of A Laird and a Fugitive

“I am always honorable, and whatever vows I take, I take seriously.” She paused for a moment to consider her words. “But there is something ye should understand. I am nae a fool, and I shall nae be treated as one. I will be honorable as long as ye are honorable in return. In other words, ye should stay on my good side.”

Ryan laughed openly, the sound breaking free like a shot. Caroline glared at him, for she had not intended her words to be humorous. However, before she could speak, her expression turned to one of concern.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to his sleeve.

Ryan looked down and extended his arm. A crimson shadow bloomed over his crisp shirt. He rolled his sleeve up and noticed that blood had trickled out. He cursed under his breath and ripped the cloth away, revealing the gash in his skin.

“It seems as though it’s ye who should hae seen the healer,” Caroline taunted.

Ryan glared at her, although he appreciated that it was a timely remark.

“I dinnae need tae gae tae that bother. It’s just a wee scratch.”

“It’s more than that,” Caroline huffed.

She tore off a piece of her dress and then searched a cabinet for some clear alcohol. She held the cloth to the bottle and soaked it, before approaching Ryan. Without asking, she pressed the cloth to his wound. It stung, and Ryan gasped.

“Dae ye like causing me pain?” he said through gritted teeth.

“This will help. I told ye that I could hae taken care of my sisters. I know a wee something about the art of healing,” Caroline replied.

She pressed the cloth to his arm with a surprising amount of force. Her fingers brushed the hard flesh of his bicep, while strands of hair touched his shoulder. The scent of her enveloped him. It was sweet and cloying. He never imagined anything could have been more intoxicating than wine. Her touch was tender and as he stared at her face he was tempted to reach out and touch it. She was soft, beautiful, and all the things that he had been missing from his life.

Without thinking, his hand rose and he cupped her cheek. Caroline stiffened at the sensation, but she did not back away. She did not attempt to flee. Her hand did fall away from the cloth, though, and now her entire hand was pressed against his shoulder. Their eyes met, and it was as though a bolt of lightning struck clean through him.

“Why are ye being kind tae me? Ye should hate me. Ye should hae let me die. Ye could hae been free of all this.”

He searched her gaze for answers. Her ruby lips were slightly parted, but they offered nothing. In that suspended moment, it was just he and Caroline and the silence. A thought struck him; he could have gazed into her eyes for hours, perhaps even days, without tiring. He liked the feeling of touching her skin, and the more he inhaled her scent, the more he seemed to lose his mind.