The Highlander Series(143)

“Gertie has the right of it. Good stout ale will cure damn near anything.”

Keeley wrinkled her nose but didn’t argue. “Can you sit up?”

Alaric glanced down, then gingerly planted his elbow in the mattress to give himself a shove upward.

Agony lanced up his side, stealing his breath. He froze, panting softly as a red haze settled over his vision.

Keeley made a sound of alarm and then suddenly she was there. Surrounding him with her arms and her softness. Some of the vicious pain subsided and he drew in steadying breaths as he leaned into her.

She jerked several pillows behind him, then eased him back until he was propped against the wall. “Slowly, warrior. I know it hurts.”

He lay there panting, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Nausea welled in his belly and it was all he could do not to lean over and heave. Jesu, but that little cut in his side hurt like the devil.

He started to protest when she moved away, but before he could open his mouth, she was back, trencher and ale in hand. She gave him the goblet and then slid onto the bed beside him, her curvy body nestling against his side.

“Sip slowly until your stomach has settled,” she murmured.

How she knew he was on the verge of retching his guts up he didn’t know, but he made sure to follow her advice and took wary sips of the strong brew.

After a few swallows, he grimaced and set the goblet away. “I think you had the right of it, Keeley. I think plain water would be easier on my stomach. ’Tis the truth the ale seems to sour it all the more.”

“Here,” she said in a gentle voice. “Sip at the broth from the trencher. See if that does the trick. I’ll go down and fetch some water for you in a moment.”

“Nay, don’t move.” He threw back his head and bellowed Gannon’s name.

Keeley jumped beside him and drew in her breath.

“Sorry, lass,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

They had only a moment to wait before the door burst open and Gannon stuck his head in. Keeley shot him a bemused look and Alaric chuckled.

“ ’Tis his duty to remain outside my chamber in case I have need of anything. I knew he wouldn’t be far.”

“Was this merely a test?” Gannon grumbled.

“Nay, I require water and didn’t want Keeley to have to fetch it herself. She’s tired and has galloped up the stairs more than enough already.”

“I’ll return in a moment,” Gannon said as he withdrew.

“Think you that you can down some of the broth now? If you’re finished bellowing at your men?”

Alaric grinned at the sour note in her voice. “I might have need of you to help me. I’m feeling rather weak.”

Keeley rolled her eyes, but she turned into him, balancing the trencher in her palm as she guided it to his mouth. “Sip at it,” she directed. “Not too fast. Let it settle in your stomach before you take more.”

Alaric sucked some of the liquid into his mouth and savored the soothing warmth as it slipped down his throat. More than the comfort of the broth, Keeley’s tender regard brushed over his senses and soothed the incessant ache at his side.

Her knuckles grazed his lips as she maneuvered to get closer to him. She knelt up and leaned over, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage. The delectable mounds peeked above the neckline of her smock, and his gaze was riveted. He held his breath, waiting to see if the dress would move lower.

He could fair taste her already, and it was all he could do not to lean in and nuzzle the sweet, soft flesh.

She palmed his chin and lifted until his gaze met hers again. Brown. Rich brown pools with tiny flecks of gold and green. Thick lashes fringed her eyes, making them larger and more exotic looking.

“Drink,” she directed.

He allowed her complete control. Whatever she dictated, he obeyed. She stroked his cheek as she tilted the trencher to allow him more of the broth. With each brush of her flesh against his, his body stirred and tightened uncomfortably. He wouldn’t have thought his cock would possibly react when he was in so much pain, but he strained the limits of his trews. The ache was becoming intolerable and as uncomfortable as the pain in his side.

Before he realized it, he’d drained the trencher of the broth and Keeley slowly pulled it away, and with it her palm.

His protest bubbled on his lips and escaped in a throaty growl.

“Do you want more?” she asked huskily.

“Aye,” he whispered.

“I’ll call for more.”

“Nay.”

“Nay?”

“ ’Tis not what I want.”

Her eyes glowed and she stared at him, her gaze stroking over his face. “What do you want, warrior?”