Page 54 of Ruining a Highland Healer
Before Valora could protest once more, Torrin dusted himself off and began to walk back towards the keep, never once daring to look at her over his shoulder.
Once they were back at the castle, Valora wasted no time before she forced Torrin to sit down in their chambers and remove his shirt while the servants were filling the tub for her bath. Knowing him, he wouldn’t heed her warnings, but she knew they had to take good care of his wound, otherwise the risk of infection would be too high.
In a brief lull in the room, when the servants had all gone out to fetch different things—more water, drying cloths, firewood—Valora crouched down next to Torrin, her careful fingers prodding at the skin around his wound.
He drew a breath through his teeth, sharp and pained, and Valora paused, looking up at him with hesitation.
“I’m alright,” he assured her. “Only tender.”
“If it hurts too much?—”
“It daesnae,” said Torrin, and though she doubted it was anything but stubbornness, she knew she could at least take advantage of that stubbornness to make sure he truly was alright.
Shuffling a little closer, Valora wiped the wound clean gently, with some warm water and a cloth she had gotten from the servants. Under her hands, Torrin twitched every now and thenin discomfort—or at least that was what Valora thought it was before she saw the outline of him against the fabric of his trews.
Instantly, her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t abandon her task. Instead, she tried to keep her attention focused on the wound, making sure to clean it thoroughly.
But how could she avoid looking at the very thing that she so desperately craved? If she were honest with herself, she had to admit that she wanted nothing more than for Torrin to touch her, to kiss her again, to take her. And now, faced with the reality that he wanted it too, she could hardly keep her desire at bay.
When her breath ghosted over his bare skin and Torrin drew in another sharp breath, she had the mad thought to kiss him—and she would have, had the door not opened and a gaggle of servants walked in, preparing her bath for her.
Soon, the copper tub stood in the center of the room, steam rising in languid curls. The fire had been stoked high; the warmth soaked into the stone walls. The windows were open to let the afternoon breeze in, along with the sun.
Valora stood behind the folding screen, hands trembling slightly as she unfastened her bodice. She let the fabric fall, piece by piece, until her skin prickled under the cool air. A single linen wrap kept her modest, but for several moments, she couldn’t bring herself to step out of the screen.
"I’ll leave ye tae it," Torrin called from the other side, and it was then that Valora realized it was then or never.
She stepped out slowly.
Torrin was standing near the hearth, hands clasped behind his back, and when he saw her, he whipped his head around in a valiant attempt to not look.
"Could ye… would ye like tae stay?"
Valora’s voice was small, hesitant as she phrased the question. Slowly, Torrin turned around to face her once more, and she could have sworn there was a slight flush on his cheeks—though it could have been from the heat of the fire and the bath.
"Is that what ye want?" he asked.
Valora nodded in silence. Then, when Torrin made no move to leave, she stepped toward the tub, letting the linen slip down her body. When she was fully nude, she had to fight the urge to hide herself, her body, from Torrin’s eyes. When she stepped into the water, it was scalding at first—then soothing. Her body settled beneath the surface with a long exhale. Her hair floated around her shoulders like threads of silk.
Torrin hadn’t moved.
"Will ye come closer?" she asked. The mere ask took everything out of her, but she knew that if she wanted this, then she had to ask him for it.
Torrin crossed the room slowly and knelt beside the tub. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he reached out, fingers grazing the water, then her wrist.
"Ye said once," she murmured, "that ye’d only touch me if I asked ye fer it."
He looked up at her, his chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed. His eyes were like a storm, his lips slightly parted. The warmth of his breath on her face was another sensation, another stimulus to add to so many others—the water, the metal of the tub, the chill of the air around her, the graze of his fingers on her wrist.
This was it, she told herself. This would change everything between them, and from then on, she would have no excuse to stay away from him.
"I remember."
Her voice was quiet. "Will ye?"
Torrin’s hand slid through the water, his palm resting on her knee. Valora inhaled sharply, that simple, soft touch enough to feel incendiary.
He explored her with reverent curiosity—his fingers gliding across her thigh, up to her stomach, then back down to map the slope of her hip. His hand was large, warm, callused from yearsof swordplay. When he touched her, though, it was soft, tender—never demanding.
