Page 16 of Claimed By the Heartless Highlander
Duncan lunged at him, and his sword pierced through the man’s paltry leather armor and cleaved him nearly in two.
The bandit’s dying scream made Ailis feel sick, but it made both his comrades flinch in terror, and the falter in their concentration proved fatal, as Duncan buried his blade deep in one man’s heart, then wrenched it free and whipped around to attack the last one.
Silence fell. Ailis stared at the blood-splattered warrior and wondered what she’d invited into her life with her letters.
She also wondered what it said about her, that she found the sight of him equally exciting and terrifying.
* * *
Duncan shook the blood off his blade with a grimace. It had been a while since he’d experienced combat outside the practice yard. He was annoyed that one of the men had managed to cut him, even if it was a fairly minor wound on his arm.
Even with that lucky blow, the men had hardly been a challenge, but it was enough to make his blood sing. And with no more enemies to fight, his mind was going in another direction.
As if a delicate flower like Ailis would look twice at a man like me after watchin’ me slaughter these fools.
He turned, mentally prepared for anything, from seeing the girl recoil in disgust to seeing her in a heap on the ground after fainting dead away.
He wasn’t prepared to find her staring at him with a mix of unease and what looked like admiration.
“Are ye hurt?”
“Of course nae.” She shook her head. “Ye kept me safe.”
“’Tis me duty.” He sighed. “Next time, listen to me when I try to warn ye nae to be rash, and dinnae run off at the first sound ye hear.”
She blushed and nodded. Duncan shifted the sword to his other hand and winced at the sting in his arm. “Come on, let’s get back to the horses.”
He led the way, and she followed without comment. In fact, she was uncharacteristically silent until they arrived at the place where they’d tied their horses. He was almost startled when her voice sounded, soft and troubled.
“Ye’re hurt.”
He looked down at his arm. “’Tis nae very much of a wound.” He shrugged, then winced as the movement pulled at the scab and broke it.
“It might nae be much, to a warrior like ye, but it still needs to be bandaged. And it’s somethin’ I can do for ye, little as it is when compared to saving me life.”
* * *
Seeing the blood and the slash on his shirt sleeve was far more upsetting than seeing the dead bandits, though she couldn’t say why.
Duncan looked as if he was prepared to mount his horse and ride on, never mind that he was wounded.
She reached out and laid a hand on his not-wounded forearm. “Please, let me tend yer injury. I have a good salve Leona helped me make, and it willnae take me long to apply it. The cut will heal better if it’s treated.”
After a moment, he nodded.
Ailis turned to pull out the salve jar from her bag, as well as a knife to cut some strips from her skirt as a bandage. Then she turned back and yelped, flushing with surprise as she realized he’d removed his sash, vest, and shirt, leaving his arms and torso bare.
“Ye…”
“I dinnae see any point in destroyin’ the shirt by slashin’ the sleeve, and ye cannae bind the wound with a cloth.”
This time, he didn’t even bother to try and hide his smirk.
“Ye’re right, of course.” Ailis focused her gaze on his arm and tried to ignore the bare torso right in front of her.
She was torn between looking away and staring unabashedly, the inexperienced side of her embarrassed to see so much naked male skin on display. But the memory of the scenes in her novels made her want to look, to see how he compared to the heroes in her beloved books.
With an effort, she focused her gaze and her attention on his arm, and the long, somewhat deep cut that ran across his well-defined bicep.
