Page 66 of Highlander’s Hope

She hesitated. “I suppose… I canna see what I’m doing on my shoulder.”

“Sure.” Konnor shut the door behind him and proceeded into the room.

A rainy afternoon came in through a single narrow window, but it was the fireplace that gave most of the light. Marjorie’s eyes were dark in the golden-orange glow reflected on her face. She was so still as she watched him approach, a strange combination between a puma on a hunt and a deer. Both huntress and prey, ready to move at any moment.

Konnor sat by her side and took the cloth. He poured the brownish water from the small basin into the chamber pot and poured fresh water from the jug standing by the bed. He’d much rather use a disinfectant than water from the well, but the only disinfectant he had with him was a pouch of moonshine.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he said.

“Aye,” she whispered and cleared her throat.

The vein on her neck pulsed, barely visible.

“Okay. Tell me to stop at any moment, and I will.”

She nodded, inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring for a moment before she pulled the tunic down her shoulder. Konnor swallowed as her delicate collarbone came into view, and the crease between her arm and her breast. He could see the tiny blue veins under her skin. His mouth went dry. How could he be so turned on by seeing so little?

“Do ye like what ye see?” Marjorie whispered.

Busted. Konnor looked up.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Do ye like it? Do ye think me beautiful?”

Konnor licked his lip. “You’re exquisite.”

Her eyelashes trembled, and her eyes watered. “I’ve never heard that before. Truly?”

“Truly.”

Their eyes locked, and heat ran between them. Longing like nothing Konnor had ever felt before pulled at his heart. He dipped the cloth in the water, squeezed the liquid out, and gently touched the gash. She winced a little but didn’t move.

“I don’t see any dirt. It looks clean,” he said as he cleaned. Blood stopped oozing, and it was already drying up.

He put the basin aside and reached for the pouch with moonshine. “I’ll disinfect it before dressing it. This will sting.”

Marjorie looked down, and her eyes widened. “I ken. ‘Tis good to clean wound with uisge. But desi— What?”

“To clean your wound from germs.”

“From whom?”

Konnor chuckled. “The bad stuff that gives you an infection.”

“You’re speaking your words from the future with me again.”

He took a fresh, clean cloth and poured the moonshine on it. “Ready?”

“Aye.”

He pressed the cloth to her cut, and she hissed. He held it a bit longer, then in another place where she needed it.

“Mother of—” Marjorie spat.

He removed the cloth and blew on the wound. Marjorie closed her eyes, tilted her head slightly, and sighed. She opened the side of her neck to him, the thin, graceful neck he yearned to kiss and nibble. The neck that would smell so much like her. The skin that would be soft and silky under his fingers. His cock hardened.

“I’ll just dress it.”