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Highlander in her Bed

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"I've healing oil infused with thyme to treat the wound once it's stitched, and rosemary water to cleanse it," she said looking expectantly at where his hand lay over his tunic covering his erection. "I'll try not to hurt you."

     "A little pain will be good for me," he said, thinking penance would be better. He inched up the hem of his tunic with his fingers, bunching it in his hands an inch at a time, just above the wound, making sure it covered his cock.

     "Come, Sir David. You have the modesty of a maid," she said impatiently.

     Looking down he could see dried blood spread across the inside of his thigh, though the bleeding had slowed to an ooze.

     Arabel moved close to examine his thigh. "You're a lucky man. 'Tis no more than a slice and hasna penetrated the muscle, though you've fair bled out by the look of you. I need to cleanse where the poison is building."

     He sucked in a sigh of relief as she bathed the wound with a cloth, relieved that the pain of the water hitting raw flesh at least made his cock shrink a little.

     Arabel didn't appear to flinch at the blood that caked in the hair on his legs, instead she diligently washed down both of his legs until there was no dirt or blood from the battlefield, then dried the wound with a clean cloth scented of rosemary. "This will need stitching. It will never close on its own not even if I pack it with yarrow. Our Seneschal has made a new beverage from barley. He learned it from his kin who learned from the monks in Islay. They call it whisky. Would you like to try it to dull the pain?"

     "I'm no afraid of pain but I'd like to try it. My father bought the new drink but he didna let me have it. Just used it to dull his chest pain."

     "The drink can make a man wild for war or women. I've seen both in the hall and my brother banned it. I use it on my patients to help with pain."

     "I'm not likely to fight you, Arabel. You're safe with me, but don't blame me if I speak of love with such a pretty maid tending me."

     "Phff!" she snorted.

     "Perhaps you should have some too, it might sweeten your nature." Maybe it would lift his mood. He'd seen death up close, his cousins, his kin, his serfs. The last battle had drained dry all the fighting resources of his estate, leaving it wide open for the Bruce to conquer. What would happen to his aging, sick father and sister, Isobel, now there were few men to defend his lands? This slice wound was nothing to the turmoil he carried inside. He had to recover, but he couldn't do it with his leg split wide open like a steer's gut. Until then he was as vulnerable as a newborn babe.

 

Arabel stood, walked to the door, opened it and called out to the guard. "Tell Iohane to come here." Sir David's wound had been open too long and was starting to fester. It would be an arduous, agonizing death if she didn't close it.

     She took out a long, bone-colored thread from her medical basket and a sharp, silver needle. When she began to thread it, she heard Iohane arrive at the door. The Seneschal's wife looked disapprovingly at the knight. She knew Iohane did not believe in extending mercy to the enemy.

     Arabel raised her head. "Iohane bring fresh towels, a clean tunic, more hot water and that new drink, whisky. Oh and the nettle tonic, the one tinged with sedative. Sir David has lost too much blood. A tonic should help him get his strength back."

     The dour-faced woman let out a sniff, turned and left.

     "You sure she won't put poison in the tonic? From the look of her, the woman wishes me dead," he said.

     Arabel finished threading the needle. "The business of tending you has certainly added to Iohane's labor, but she's loyal to my brother. 'Tis her job to help me brew the herbs and tonics to treat the wounded." The door opened. "Ah good, Iohane has returned with the tonic." Arabel took the bottle of whisky and set the other goods on the table. She filled a beaker and brought it to his lips watching the strong lines of his face when he drank. What did her brother have planned for this noble knight who was so handsome she couldn't take her eyes off him? Her heatbeat picked up. She took the beaker from him, filled it again, this time with the tonic.

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