Page 38 of Sutherland's Secret
“I know I’m hurting you,” she murmured as she studied his wound.
He grunted.
“But the bandage needs to be changed frequently.”
He tilted his head back against the pillow and blew out a breath. “Can ye hurry?”
She pulled back to sit on the edge of the bed. Brice clenched his hands together. She pulled her gaze from the wound to look at him and drew in a small breath. Quickly she tried to push away from the bed, but he grabbed her wrist to keep her there. “Ella, I want to kiss ye.”
“Brice, I don’t think—”
He didn’t give her time to finish, because he didn’t want to hear what she was thinking. More than likely it had something to do with kissing not being a good idea, and he thought it was a very good idea.
Her lips were soft and tentative, her body stiff beneath his hand. But he persisted, being gentle when he wanted to be fierce. Soon her body folded in to his and she leaned in to him. She brushed against his wound and he hissed in a breath, but when she tried to pull away, he held her in place. “No,” he said simply, and she stopped moving.
She pressed her lips more firmly against his. He swept his tongue into her mouth, causing her to gasp. Tentatively she did the same and he groaned. His body was on fire, his cock so tight with wanting that he feared it would split.
Eventually Ella pulled away and he let her go. It was either that or roll her over and push his cock into her, and even through his pain and his fogged brain, he knew that wasn’t a good idea.
She pressed the back of her hand against her lips. “Brice—”
He released her arm. “Go get the honey.” His voice was rough with need.
She nodded and stood on what appeared to be shaky legs. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, needing a moment to himself. The feelings flowing through him had little to do with the need to have sex with this woman and a lot to do with the need to keep her near him forever.
He heard the door open and then close quietly behind her, and still he kept his eyes closed, trying to stem his feelings.
Lady Eleanor Hirst, Countess of Glendale, was not to be trifled with no matter how much he wanted her. She would return to England, and he would be left alone up here in the Highlands, where he was needed.
It was too eerily like his wife, Alisa, who had hoped to one day travel to England and meet someone of nobility. If Alisa had met Eleanor, she would have been awestruck. An actual English countess who had attended the balls Alisa had dreamed of attending. Alisa, Brice knew, would have picked Eleanor’s brain on everything from fashion to the latest gossip.
One thing was certain: Eleanor would leave just like Alisa did. And that was as it should be.
Chapter 16
As soon as Eleanor entered Brice’s bedchamber with the pot of honey and the clean linens in her hand, she knew something had changed.
Her lips still tingled from his kiss, and her body was still heated and yearning, but his cool look gave her a warning. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Certainly she couldn’t have a relationship with him. It was far too dangerous to both of them—not to mention to her heart. And yet she wanted him to kiss her again. She’d never been kissed like that by even her husband. Her body had never responded in that way to a mere kiss.
She laid out the honey and linens. The silence between them was thick and awkward. She hated that they’d lost the intimacy of not only the kiss but the banter as well. She enjoyed talking to him, exchanging barbs and sarcastic comments.
“You can lay back,” she said, because he was sitting up straight and looking uncomfortable.
He lay back but kept his wary gaze on what she was doing. “How did ye come to know how to remove a ball from a person?” he asked.
She was glad he was talking, at least, but she had hoped to avoid this particular discussion. After smearing the honey on his wound, impressed that he didn’t utter a sound even though it must hurt, she sat back and looked at him.
His dark blond hair was combed straight back and fell to waves on his shoulders. There was a dusting of darker blond along his chest that arrowed down to disappear in the bedsheets. His light blue gaze was serious and determined. Just moments before, it had been filled with desire.
“I tended the wounded and ill soldiers when I first came to Scotland.”
“English soldiers?”
She winced at the coldness of his tone. If only she could turn back the clock and tell her husband that she wouldn’t accompany him to Scotland. But at the time, it had been such an honor that he had been chosen to serve under Cumberland. And it was common for the wives to join their husbands. She’d planned to stay in Edinburgh while Charles went on to Aberdeen, but he had never made it that far, and instead Eleanor had gone to Fort Augustus, where Cumberland had set up his headquarters after Culloden and where she had become a prisoner.
“Yes. English soldiers,” she said. She grabbed the linens and folded them, then pressed them to the wound. Brice hissed in a breath. “It looks clean. There’s no sign of infection,” she said. “Here, hold them in place while I wrap this length of linen around you.”
He held the padding while Eleanor tried to wrap the long linen around him. Too late, she realized her error. She would have to lean over him and have him roll toward her to get it under him.
