Deborah Simmons - My Lord de Burgh by My Lord de Burgh

Author:My Lord de Burgh [Burgh, My Lord de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-12-24T00:08:03.036000+00:00

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Chapter Eleven

The look on Stephen's face might have been comical, if not for the cause of his dismay, and Brighid hastened to assure him. "I'll tend you. Can you dismount?" she asked, as she approached Hades. Brighid stood close by the huge destrier, though she had no idea what she was going to do with two hundred pounds of muscular male should Stephen put his weight upon her.

"You don't understand," he said, his tanned skin looking slightly pale. "I've never been wounded."

"I'm sure it's just a scratch," Brighid said, hoping she was right. "But the sooner I can look at it, the better you shall be."

To her relief Stephen managed to slide to the ground, though he grunted at the movement. He was in pain, and Brighid knew her duty, yet she shied away from reaching for him, wary of this man who had transformed before her very eyes from drunken layabout to magnificent warrior. She had always been leery of touching him, but now…

The decision was taken from her hands as he swayed toward her. He was tall and heavy, and Brighid staggered under his weight, yet somehow, against all logic,he felt warm and wonderful. She drank in his scent and his heat like one long denied as he slung his arm over her shoulder, and with unsteady steps she led him toward one of the fallen stones, where he lowered himself with another grunt.

Brighid sank onto her heels in front of him, pushing aside his hands in their rough gauntlets. While he removed them, she reached toward his leg and was alarmed to see his entire body shudder. Laying a steadying hand upon his knee, Brighid leaned closer and saw that he had a nasty gash through the thick muscle of his calf, below where the mail coat protected him.

Drawing her small dagger, she cut away the bloody material of his braies, then hurried to her palfrey to retrieve her water flask and the pouch of healing herbs she kept for her own use, should the dire need arise. Although she had never thought to treat Stephen de Burgh with them, Brighid she did not hesitate. And kneeling once more before her patient, she washed the wound as best she could, keeping a firm hold to staunch the blood even as Stephen jerked beneath her ministrations.

"What are you about? Gad, is there no wine? I need a drink!" he muttered furiously, and again, Brighid felt him shudder.

Drawing his leg back toward her, Brighid glanced upward, a reprimand on her lips, only to swallow it as she met his dark gaze, so stark and tortured that it stunned her into silence. With an effort, she kept her shock at bay, holding his gaze evenly with her own, as if she could calm him with it. "You don't need wine," she said softly.

Although he turned his head away, staring off into the distance and swearing under his breath, Stephen left his leg in place, and Brighid finished cleansing the wound.

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