His flesh was not only hard but warm and there was a scent about him that she favored, though she could not say what it was and it was unseemly for her to even think such a wicked thing.
Please. Please let me find a wound, she thought.
Just as her fingertips grazed the hair that nestled his shaft she saw it. Low on his right side, a bruise much too dark that she feared it could prove a problem. Without thinking she dropped to her knees to take a closer look. She had seen some wounds like this cut and forced to bleed, but the person always died.
Her fingers probed it gently and he did not flinch, though it had to have pained him. There was nothing she could do except apply salve as she would to his scratches. She reached for the small crock in the basket just behind him and lost her balance. She tried to right herself, fearful her face would land against his groin.
His hands were quick, yanking her up clear off the floor. “When I am ready to have you between my legs I will let you know. Now tend my wounds.”
He dropped her to her feet and this time she made certain to keep her balance. He had actually thought she intended to—her stomach rolled over not only at his wrong assumption, but the vision it evoked. Could he possibly expect such wickedness from her?
Not wanting to give it another thought, she hastily applied the salve, giving the bruise a quick dab, not daring to linger. With deft hands she tended his minor scratches.
His words persisted in disturbing, running wildly in her head. His intentions were all too clear. He would have her when he was ready. If not today or tomorrow, one day he would have his way with her. And there was naught she could do about it. She was as trapped as he was.
“What other food have you?”
He walked to the door and sat, bracing his back against it. He rested his head back and took a deep breath, as if his ordeal had suddenly tired him and he needed to reclaim his strength.
When he lifted his head and saw her staring he went rigid and snapped, “Be quick about it.”
Dawn scrambled to gather the food items. For a moment, a sheer moment, she thought she caught sight of the fatigue that had surely claimed him and yet it took a mere instant for him to regain his strength.
She had brought plenty of food recalling how Colum had told her to keep the prisoner well fed, much like an animal fattened before slaughter. She intended to leave all she had brought setting it on a cloth beside him along with a flask of ale.
She turned intending to sit by her basket and once again prayed she could soon take her leave.
“Eat with me,” he said.
She looked at him oddly. No women dared eat until the warriors finished their food. And besides she had no stomach to partake of any sustenance.
He shoved a piece of bread at her and fearing the consequences should she not obey, she took it. She did however pretend that she nibbled at it. If she even dared take a bite she would surely choke, her mouth was so dry.
Silence followed and she wondered if he waited for a response from her. She dreaded the moment he found out she had no voice. How would he feel that Colum chose a dumb one to tend him? Would he be angry and lash out at her? She was surprised it had gone this long without him questioning her lack of response, though she supposed he believed fear held her tongue.
“Colum sends me a quiet one. One who listens rather than speaks.”
She made no move to explain. Better he thinks what he wishes to think and save her from explaining.
“No doubt there is a reason he chose you in particular to tend me.”
On that point he was surely right.
“Shy, quiet, not one to gossip, but one who allows others to speak, while she listens.”
True she was shy, not able to gossip, though she doubted she would if she could, having seen the hurt and damage it could cause. Naturally, she had no choice but to listen.
“When one truly listens, one truly hears.”
That he understood that surprised her. Being immersed in silence forced her to listen, truly listen as he had said. And she heard, heard far more than others were aware of, but no one with a voice would understand that. Yet this savage did.
“Your name.”
Dread descended over her. The moment she feared was upon her.
“Stop being cowardly and tell me your name.”
A name was so easy for a person to recite, to make an introduction. She had never had that opportunity and with the discovery of her affliction people shied away or were rude.
“Have you no tongue,” Cree snapped.
Thankfully she did have that and she stuck out the tip to prove it.
“So you do have some courage.”
His grinning laugh surprised her and made him appear all the more handsome, but at the moment that did not matter to her. What did matter was that he had found her response amusing and it would be wise to take advantage of his levity and make him aware of the truth.