Page 4 of The Splendor of Fire
A strange substance covered his face and neck—dark and sticky. She worked her fingers over it until it loosened. The man whimpered again.
A curl flopped over her eyes as she stiffened her thumbs, raking them along his collarbone, kneading the muscles between his neck and shoulders, trying again to get him to relax. A heavy sigh released from his chest.
Wiping the lather away with damp toweling, she moved up to his head, forming a barrier around his eyes with her hand as she poured a trickle of water over his sticky face, washing away the black grease as gently as she could.
Her fingers caught on a chain just under his chin and she pulled it around. Heavy with gold, the chain and disc dangled from her fingers. She inspected the disc in the light. A lion, rising up on its hind legs, its mane flaring away from its head. It wore a crown and its front paws gripped a cross scepter and orb.Curious.Father had mentioned he was the laird’s brother, but by the looks of the necklace he was a man of some independent wealth and importance.
Lifting his head, she untangled his sandy waves of hair from the chain and finger combed the knots and mats of blood out before washing it. It felt like silken folds of wet seaweed in her hands, and she found herself massaging his scalp as she rinsed it. He sighed again and his body became heavier as she eased his head back onto the mat.
With the blood and sticky black grease wiped away he was rather good-looking. Olive skinned, arched eyebrows, a straight nose. His mouth was full and his lips turned up slightly at the corners. Two short wrinkles creased above his right eyebrow. A trimmed beard grew along his jaw but had begun to get a little shaggy. She wondered if he was her age. She wondered what it would be like if he loved her and wanted to kiss her. How could she help but wonder? Indeed, she’d never laid eyes on a lad more handsome.
A loud snore rose up from his chest and she startled. Heart pounding, breath bursting through her nose, she shook her head, snapping out of her daydream. What a feartie she was.
He slept soundly as she gathered her supplies and organized her basket. Taking a folded cloth in hand, she removed the broth from the fire. Better to let him sleep for a few hours. They could reheat it when he woke later. She bent down and pulled the thick woolen blanket up, tucking it around him with a growing, warm tenderness in her heart.
As she eased him up to tuck the blanket under his shoulders, his thick, arched brows shot up and his lovely eyes opened—they were honey brown and seemed to glow with love. Was she dreaming? Transfixed, unable to soothe him or tell him she was a friend, she stayed there, holding onto his head. His arms yanked free of the blanket and two large hands came to her cheeks. “Je peux pas y croire.Théa.MaThéa.”
Unable to understand his words, she blinked at him, mouthing slow words of comfort.You’re all right, now.I’m here, you’re not alone. You’re safe. Father is caring for you.
The perfect arches of his eyebrows quirked and he blinked tears away. “Tu n’es pas laThéa.”
The backs of his fingers brushed against her cheeks and he stared into her eyes. “Je tombe dans tes yeux…bleu comme la mer.”
Pulling on her heartstrings, he guided her into the harbor of his soulful eyes. His fingers unwound the curls beside her face then threaded into her hair. “J'ai rêvé de toi. Je peux entendre vos pensées.”
Histhumb stroked her bottom lip. Gentle, he pulled her down, his bruised lips coming to hers. The large, powerful hands she’d just washed smoothed lovingly along her jaw and steered her closer. Paralyzed, shecould not pull away. He was fevered and did not know what he did…did he? She had never been kissed before.
He broke the kiss, his hands tucked under her ears, his eyes holding her own, his voice now speaking her language. “Speak, I’m listening.”
Moira ran a hand along his bruised cheek, then opened her mouth, her voice unable to make sound.I’m here. You’re not al?—
His lips crashed over hers again, pulling her back to him, and she lost her breath, struck dumb and unable to stop herself. Entrusting herself to him, she gave herself over, closing her eyes, savoring a long-awaited taste of love. Her heart raced as she followed his lead, losing herself in his skilled, passionate kiss. He angled his head in a new direction and his mouth slanted over hers again, and again, and again. Something in her heart burst open as her hands covered his cheeks, answering him with willing affection, imagining he could hear her voice.
Tingles shot down her spine. And then, shock. The prison walls closed in on her, and she eased him back against the straw mat, heart clamping with guilt. As his eyes closed, the door jangled.
Father studied her as the door clanked shut behind him. “Are you all right? You’ve gone pale, Birdy.”
She nodded, and brought two fingers to each eye, moving them apart and pointing at him.
“He woke?”
She nodded.
“Did he say anything?”
The strange words, the way he’d held her, the way he’d kissed her. The first kiss any man had given in her thirty-one years. She nodded. With her hands she formed a T, then A, then Y, then A.
“Taya?”
She nodded. He raised his eyebrows. “Taya. Sounds like a lassie. Perhaps his wife?”
Heavens. She hadn’t thought about his marital state. What had her foolish heart done, returning the kiss of not only a total stranger but a married man?
From the mat, the man groaned. Father rushed over. “Lad? Are you awake? Lad?”
The man’s eyes flickered and he looked at Father, his expression becoming confused. “Oui. Awake.”
Remembering the broth, she retrieved the cauldron. She sank to her knees and motioned to the man’s shoulders and to Father’s chest.
