Page 8 of Saved By the Highland Beast
“I didn’t think of it that way,” she said sheepishly, feeling like a child that got a rap over the knuckles. “It’s a kind way of looking at the world. More people should think like that.”
They sat in silence for a while as the laird dipped a clean cloth into a separate bowl of herbs and water before reaching for her arms and dabbing the cut that ran from her elbow to her wrist.
Sophia watched his face as he diligently worked to clean her wounds. He was a handsome man, there was no doubt about that. The laird had long, thick, black hair that ran down his back in a braid. His body was muscular and chiseled, with a set jaw like a Greek god statue she’d seen in one of London’s many art museums. The depths and darkness of his eyes were far more intense than anything she’d ever seen before in her life. They were like hazel pools in the middle of the night.
“This may sting a bit,” he said in his rough voice as he reached for the bandages in the bowl and placed them against the wound on her arm.
“Ouch.” Sophia winced and gritted her teeth. Despite the sharp pain from the herbs, his touch was surprisingly soft and gentle, his fingertips merely brushing her skin as he worked.
“I told ye it would hurt.”
The flickering light from the fire cast shadows across his handsome face, and she felt like she’d stepped into one of the romance novels her mother would read. The setting was perfect for the hero to take the beautiful woman in his arms and… Her thoughts made her blush. She chastised herself. This man had been nothing but a gentleman, albeit a gruff one, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him naked.
“Ye will have to lower yer hands so that I can take a look at yer chest.”
“What?” she asked quickly in shock and looked down. She hadn’t even noticed that she was defensively clutching at her chest with her arm.
“Ye have some cuts on yer chest. I can leave them until we reach the castle tomorrow, but I cannae guarantee they won’t worsen before then. I’m nae a healer. I can dress me own wounds, but I cannae help ye if a fever sets in in the middle of the night. The water of the lake ye were in isn’t exactly what I’d call a bath. Many soldiers have lost their limbs after washin’ their wounds in a lake. The water is nae fit unless it comes from a flowin’ stream.”
Sophia took a deep breath and gently lowered her arm, allowing the shreds of her dress to reveal the mounds of her breasts above her stained and ruined undergarments.
The laird’s fingers brushed her skin again as he moved the fabric aside, sending goosebumps up her chest and neck.
The mounds of her supple breasts were marred with small cuts that had been crusted with dried blood.
He dipped the cloth into the water once again and softly ran the damp fabric over her cleavage, causing her chest to rise and fall a little sharper with every breath.
“It seems as if ye may have gotten somethin’ stuck in there.” He leaned a little closer until his face was flush with her bosom.
She could feel his hot breath on her skin as he worked to free the piece of debris from her skin. She shut her eyes as mixed emotions flooded her. Never in her life had a man been this close to her. Not even a physician had seen her in such a state of undress. She felt excited and confused at the way his touch ignited a heat in the pit of her belly.
He leaned in a little closer until his head was right beneath her chin, allowing her to breathe in the scent of his hair. It smelled like the earthy musk of freshly cut heather.
She felt the warmth of his breath moving up her neck and stopping at her jawline before moving over to her chin. Her lips parted slightly at the tingling sensations that arose from within as she waited for what came next. Her blood hummed with an unknown feeling that she wanted to explore.
“Ye can open yer eyes now,” he said suddenly. “I got the piece that was lodged in yer skin. It looks like a splinter of wood.”
Sophia opened her eyes to see Dean sitting back in his chair and staring at the herbs on the table.
When had he moved?
She’d gotten so lost in the allure of the moment that she hadn’t even felt the pain.
What am I thinking? This isn’t the time to be imagining things. He was seeing to my wounds, obviously. He wasn’t about to kiss me.
This man was the laird whose son she would be tutoring in the months and possibly the year to come. She had no business being attracted to him. She’d thought for a second that he was about to kiss her, and what’s worse, she’d wanted him to.
She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts, chalking her feelings up to fatigue.
“The scratches on yer chest will nae require any bandages,” Dean said distractedly without looking at her. “Ye may have a scar or two, but ye can tell yer future husband that ye have battle scars.” He gained his feet. “There’s a bedroll in the corner for ye with a fresh pair of breeches an’ a shirt. We dinnae have any lady’s clothes, so ye will have to wear that until we reach the castle tomorrow. Change at yer leisure an’ use the rest of the warm water to bathe. I’ll have one of the men knock on yer door with some food.”
Sophia watched as he left the room and shut the door firmly behind him without saying so much as another word. Looking down, she examined the clean marks on her chest. Her mind wandered back to the gentleness of his touch and the way his breath on her skin had made her feel.
She would have to watch herself while she lived in his castle. Being around a man as handsome and dangerous as the laird could prove to be very difficult, even for a woman as strong and moral as she was.
“You are very tired, Sophia,” she whispered to herself. “You can’t want a man you’ve just met, no matter how handsome he is.”
CHAPTER4
