Page 31 of The Hawk Laird
She did not want to appear needy or weak to him, and she did not want him to think that she trusted him. At Aberlady, she had put her faith in him, but his rescue had no honor in it. Her anger sparked each time she thought of it.
“I’m fine,” she repeated stubbornly.
“Fine enough to make your cheeks paler than they should be, and so fine that you bite your lip and wince whenever you move. Do not be a fool. Let me see it.”
She sighed. The arm did need attention. She began to loosen the cloth strips that bound her arm to her side. James leaned forward, the morning sun glinting over his hair. He gently pushed down the strap of her dark gray surcoat, and peeled back the torn sleeve of the pale gray gown beneath it. When he opened the bandages on her upper arm, Isobel winced sharply.
As he removed the cloth, she peered at her wound and gasped. The large punctures in the front and back of herupper arm had clotted, but the surrounding flesh was pink and swollen. The pale flesh of her arm was a mass of purple bruises. James turned her arm in his hand, the fierce ache nearly taking her breath. After a moment, he nodded.
“This looks bonny,” he said.
“Bonny?” she squeaked in dismay.
“There are no streaks of infection. You are fortunate to have only swelling and tenderness. You will have some deep scars, but certain ointments can help the scarring. Let me see your foot.” He bent to lift her ankle and peel back the bandage, the wound stinging when exposed. She decided not to look.
“’Tis healing well also,” he said. “And you seem able to walk more easily, though you still limp. I will clean these and rebandage them, and my aunt can apply ointments and remedies to help the wounds heal cleanly.”
“Is she a healer, your aunt? Where does she live?”
“She understands healing, if more for animals than humans. Her house is a morning’s journey to the south.”
“Will you tell your aunt that you intend to hold me for ransom?”
He picked up a cloth he had soaked in cool water from the nearby stream and folded it. His eyes flashed to hers. “I never said ransom, lass,” he said softly. “Just a simple trade, one woman for another.”
She sucked in a breath in answer, for he pressed the cold, wet cloth to her arm.
“The cold will help the swelling and ease the pain,” he said. “Hold it there for a while.”
He went to the hawk, who puffed out his feathers as the man drew near. James held out his arm patiently, nudging the goshawk’s taloned feet with his leather-covered arm. After several moments, the goshawk stepped onto his arm with aflutter of wings. James stood, praising him in a calm, low tone. He offered a strip of meat, which he laid on the leather.
“I thought the rabbit meat was gone,” Isobel said.
“It is. This is part of a mouse I caught when I got the berries and the water.”
Isobel grimaced. A sparkle of amusement lit James’s eyes. “He needs to eat too, and he would not care for nuts and berries, even as we would not care for his food.”
“You fed him not long ago.”
“I will overfeed him now so that when we travel he will be fat and full, and less eager to try to fly his own meals down.”
The bird finished the food and clenched his feet, but did not bate. He stayed where he perched, as if he had begun to trust the man who had taken him.
Isobel watched, wishing she could have such faith in the man. But he had taken her prisoner. “If I were a hawk,” she said, “I would bate and bite and foot you until you let me go.”
“How fortunate for me that you are a woman,” James drawled, glancing at her. She blushed.
The tiercel flattened his feathers and squawked. James began to pass his hand in slow, graceful arcs over the bird’s head, again and again, while he uttered affectionate phrases in a soft, soothing tone. The hawk watched the moving hand in fascination, and seemed to relax, his feathers flattening.
“What are you doing?” Isobel asked.
“He will fall into a lazy trance watching my hand,” he explained. “There, you bird, easy,” he murmured. “He will forget that I am his natural enemy, and become comfortable perched on my hand, listening to my voice. Eventually he’ll learn that I will not harm him. He will trust me.”
“That is not so easy.”
“So I understand.” He slid her a quick look.
She let it pass. “Do you mean to train him?”
