Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(121)

Shanna was a trifle piqued at his rude manner and retorted tersely, “On the morrow I shall leave a shilling for its cost by your plate.”

Ruark’s laughter was quick and stung as much. “A turnabout indeed, madam, that you should pay me for damage done in your bed.”

“Blast it, Ruark,” Shanna began angrily, and her tone brought his gaze around to fix on her. Her flaring rage quelled under the calm golden stare, and, lowering her eyes, Shanna continued on a softer note. “I am sorry, Ruark, about everything. It has never been my intent to hurt you.”

Ruark stood beside the mare and stirred absently in the bowl with his finger. “In your good intentions, madam, you have never failed to strike me where it hurts the most.” He smiled wryly. “If you will, my love, ask any of your suitors, and they no doubt will agree. The slightest blow from you bloodies the spirit.”

Shanna protested. “And were your own words so tender, milord? You do berate me sorely, though I have given much more to the bargain than was ever agreed upon.”

“Damn the bargain!” Ruark growled. In exasperation he went back to the mare and began to smear his poultice along a welt below the beast’s neck. “Do you think that contents me now?” he questioned brusquely over his shoulder. “I was a man condemned, the hours left to me few. The agreement brought sweet respite, and I could ease my mind anticipating the consummation of it.” He laughed shortly. “What more did I dare hope for?”

The stilted silence that followed made Shanna crane her neck in an effort to see him, but, with the deep shadows in the stall, she could not. Fetching herself one of the lighted lanterns and climbing up the boards beside him in the next stall, she draped her arms over the top board, holding the light for him. Ruark accepted her service and issued no comment or notice until he finished where he was and moved to dress a wound on the steed’s rear leg. He hunkered on his heels, almost between the hooves, then gestured with the bowl.

“Over that way a bit,” he said over his shoulder. As Shanna shifted the lamp, he said, “There, that’s right.”

At the first touch of the unctuous stuff, Jezebel snorted and began to prance, startling Shanna, and she gasped.

“Ruark, be careful!”

He only reached up a hand and patted the mare’s flank, speaking in a soft, soothing tone.

“Easy, girl. Easy now, Jezebel.”

The horse stilled, but when Ruark again touched the poultice to the gash, the mare snorted and half reared, her hooves swinging perilously close to Ruark’s head.

“Will you get back!” Shanna commanded sharply, angry with his recklessness.

Ruark glanced up over his shoulder. “She’ll be all right, Shanna. ‘Tis only a deeper cut than the rest. It smarts at first, but ’twill soon ease the pain of it much.”

Shanna nearly groaned. “Oh, you dolt!” She gnashed her teeth at him. “Get out from beneath her hooves!”

Ruark slapped a last handful of the mixture on the mare’s leg and then ducked hastily to avoid her thrashing hooves. He set the bowl high on a timber and left the stall, closing the gate behind him. Leaning against a post, he stared back at Shanna, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

“Blimey, love,” he mimicked. “Have ye come to be so fond o‘ me then?”

“Aye, as I care for all fools and children,” Shanna snapped testily, stepping down from the boards. ‘Tis a wonder your guardian angel has not collapsed from overwork for all the care you give.“

“Of course, my lady.” Ruark switched to a stilted schooled speech akin to Sir Billingsham’s. “But what a perfectly marvelous job the good chap’s done ‘til now, eh what.”

Shanna could not repress a smile at his foolery. In passing him, she gave him the lantern and returned to the stool, propping her feet high again. Ruark set the lamp on a shelf and began to wash his hands in a bucket beneath, using large amounts of soft soap from a crock. In some fascination, Shanna studied the play of muscles across his naked back until he turned to regard her, accepting his perusal but hastily shifting her own away lest he mistake it for a deeper passion.

“Am I a fool to hope you no longer wish my death, Shanna?” he smiled.

Shanna gaped back at him with widened eyes. “I never longed for such,” she defended tartly. “How can you think it?”

“The bargain—” he began, but Shanna’s reply came swiftly in echo of his.

“Damn the bargain!”

Ruark chuckled softly and stepped toward her. “Have you not said you loathed me, love?” he taunted gently, eyeing her closely.