by Mia Pride
The door opened with a creak and he saw Maggie’s bonny face peek through the crack. Her blonde hair glowed as sunlight streamed in from behind her, and her bright blue eyes widened with apprehension. When she noticed he was back in his bed, obvious relief crossed her face and she stepped back in. It stung, but he had to remind himself that it was his own cursed fault for acting like an arse.
“How is the weather, Maggie?” he asked, desperately seeking a topic to discuss with her. He scolded himself for having no experience with small talk. He was not one to bed many lassies, but when he did, it was for the express purpose of pleasure and little talking was ever done. The only women he ever had conversations with were his family. And he could not very well speak about bows or hunting as he would with Aislin, or tease her the way he did Treasa, Alyson, or Queen Leannan, his cousins. Maggie was the first unrelated lass he had ever attempted to truly know, and he feared he was horrible at it.
“’Tis cold,” she replied with a bit of an edge. As she came in further, he realized his error. He had chased her away so fast, she had left without her cursed cloak. Her nose was nipped pink from the cold weather and her luscious waves of blonde hair were tousled from the wind. Though she looked good enough to devour, he was certain she was uncomfortable and flustered. How he wished to get out of this bed and help her build up the fire, but he would never recover if he continued to get up. He must allow himself to heal so he could get Maggie out of the house and mayhap earn more trust as they walked. Mayhap he could show interest in her work.
“I apologize. I did not mean to chase you off, Maggie. I was frustrated at my inability to untie my own trousers and see to my own needs.” That was the truth, or at least as much as he could give without frightening her.
“I understand,” she replied softly. “You are a man used to doing everything by himself. Having a lass care for you must be very hard.”
He coughed when she said the word ‘hard’. She had no idea how hard it truly was to keep from touching her, or what he had been doing to himself while she was outside. Fortunately, she mistook his cough of shock as a cough from his illness and rushed forward, putting one cold hand on his forehead.
“What are you doing?”
“You had sweat on your brow before I left the house. I was afraid you were catching a fever but you feel all right. Are you feeling hot?”
Aye, he had been hot and sweaty before she left and though part of it had indeed been from his arousal, he knew some of it had been from the searing pain in his side when he stood up. It had been a bad idea to jump out of bed, though he would do it again if it meant shielding Maggie from his obvious lust for her. “I am well. It was from the pain.”
Licking her lips, she nodded and backed away slowly, as if she considered him a feral cat ready to pounce on her. He noticed a yellow plant in her other hand and decided to change the subject. “’Tis a nice flower. You enjoy collecting plants?”
She looked down at the flower as if she had forgotten she still clutched the wee yellow plant in her hand. “Oh, aye.” She blushed and turned away from him, walking toward the table near the cauldron to place it down.
“Tell me about them.” He needed to engage her, make her feel comfortable and safe, and he truly was interested in her knowledge of plants. How she could turn a normal plant that he would otherwise walk past into a healing herb was truly a skill.
Her brows rose as she turned to look at him. “You are interested in plants?”
“I am interested in you, so I am interested in what interests you.” She blushed again and he smiled. Och, he wished his life was different. Never before had he wanted anyone or anything other than what he already had. He knew she was not for him, but it still made his chest ache to know he would never truly know her beyond whatever shallow connection they made while he healed.
“These,” she held them up for him to see, “are dandelions. They are most hearty. They can grow in all weather, even snow at times. They are also extraordinary. They make the healthiest of teas. I was planning to make you some mixed with mint and honey. ‘Twill soothe your cough. I am pleased you have nay fever.”
His heart warmed to know that, even though he had chased her away, she still thought of him while collecting those flowers. “My thanks,” he replied, feeling humbled and remorseful. “You are a kind lass.”
She stayed silent as she prepared his tea. He wanted desperately to know what she was thinking. When she came over to hand him his clay mug, filled to the brim with steaming tea, he inhaled the sweet scent and took it from her hands, gently grazing her fingers with his. He made sure to make it appear accidental, but he had truly wished to feel her soft skin again. He was a fool for her. There had been an inexplicable pull toward her from the first moment he saw her and, even though he knew it was a one-sided interest, he found his desire to know her growing more and more every moment.
“Maggie,” he croaked, before taking his first sip. “I truly am sorry that I frightened you earlier. At times I may seem rough or stubborn, but I vow I would never hurt you. I wish you were not afraid of me.”
Chewing on her bottom lip as she listened, his heart stopped in his chest as he awaited her reply. Her gaze raked over him slowly and he wondered what she was pondering. Had any other lass looked at him in that manner, he would know precisely what she was thinking, but Maggie was different and that was just one reason Flynn could not seem to get her off his mind. She was unlike any other lass he had ever met.
“Brennain told me I can trust you, and I trust him. He has proven himself gentle with me. I wish to trust you, Flynn. You vow never to strike me or… force yourself upon me?”
Her answer shocked him. She admitted she feared him, but she was willing to try to trust him. It also solidified his belief that she had been violated in some way in the past. His blood boiled with anger but he had to be careful not to upset her.
“I vow it. Maggie, I would never do such a thing. Never.”
She nodded and gave him a weak smile in response. “All right, then. I shall work on trusting you, Flynn. I would like that. Believe it or not, I do not enjoy being fearful of men. ‘Tis a matter of survival, a learned behavior…” Her voice trailed off and Flynn frowned.
Her words alluded to what he had suspected. Someone had hurt her. She was from Alba and likely her abuser was still there as well. He vowed that once he was well and done with his mission, he would find the bastard and gut him for what he had done to Maggie’s spirit. First, he would need her to trust him enough to tell him who her abuser was, and now was not the right time to ask her questions.
He took a sip of his tea and closed his eyes. It was sweet and minty, and it warmed him from the inside out. Maggie moved over to the stack of wood against the other wall and grabbed a log, throwing it into the hearth. He considered their conversation a small victory. He had a long way to go to earn her trust, but he was more determined than ever to do just that.
“Night is approaching and you need your rest. The only reason you were able to get up earlier was from the pain-numbing effects of the poppy juice. You will be in great pain soon enough.”
He already was in a great deal of pain. His wound pulsed and his entire side felt as if it was on fire. But pain was part of the life he lived. He would grit his teeth and bear it. Sipping the tea again, the warmth comforted him, and he felt his lids lowering.
Maggie was watching him as she drank a mug of tea, as well. Walking over to him, she took the mug, tucked the furs tightly around his body, and placed her hand on his forehead one more time. “You must rest, Flynn. In the morn, I will change your bandage.”
* * * *
A dry, bitter taste coated his mouth and he awoke with a grimace. His throat was still slightly sore, but he could swallow much easier at least. Trying to shift his weight, he groaned at the pulsing pain in his side. Cursed wound. He had actually forgotten about it, he slept so well.
“Be still, Flynn.” A soft, warm hand touched his arm and stilled his
movements. Maggie. He relaxed under her touch and opened his eyes to look at her. She was wearing naught but her underdress and he swallowed hard. The hearth fire raged behind her and he wondered if she realized how sheer the thin linen fabric was when she was silhouetted in the light. She had the tiniest waist and the most gentle curve to her hips. She was a wee woman, her breasts a touch smaller than most, but they were perfect for her frame. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he wanted to keep her safe from any man who would hurt her.
“Here,” she handed him a clay mug filled with cool water. “You likely have a bitter taste in your mouth. ‘Tis an effect of the poppy juice. But it also helped you sleep through the night. May I check your wound?”
Feeling the fresh water slide down his throat, he felt instant relief for his parched mouth. Swallowing the cool liquid and reveling in the easing of his aching throat, he smiled and nodded to Maggie.
Leaning over him, her free blonde waves fell across her face like a curtain and her hands skimmed the bare flesh of his abdomen as she untied the linen wrapped around his wound. Small traces of blood seeped through the bandage and he grimaced as the fabric came off his skin, exposing the now stitched up wound. “How does it feel?” Maggie asked while her fingers slowly grazed over the skin just around her impeccable stitches. “Does it feel overly tender at the wound site?”
He watched her fingers glide over his skin and gooseflesh formed on his arms. She was like a goddess tending him and suddenly being injured was worth the reward of her constant presence. “It does not hurt much on the surface. The pain is within,” Flynn replied, shifting his gaze to her soft profile.
She nodded at his response and leaned even closer to his wound. Her head was so close to his bare chest, he could feel her warm breath tickling across his skin. If she did not stop, he would soon grow hard for her again. And this time, he would not be able to run away. He had vowed not to frighten her, though he was not certain which would frighten her more: his abruptly leaving the bed again, or his massive erection pushing against his trousers. He never knew he could be so badly injured and still so easily aroused, but she had complete control over him. Her night dress was not helping matters.
“It is not showing any signs of infection. The skin is slightly red, but not alarmingly so, and I see nay signs of unusual drainage.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. A soft smile touched her lips. “I do believe you shall heal well, Flynn Mac Greine. In truth, the wound was not as deep as I had feared. The arrow only hit flesh and the archer must have been several yards away, for the impact was much less severe than a close hit would have been. I will keep a close eye on you, but I do think all will be well. You will likely heal before Brennain returns.” He saw her smile falter after she spoke those words, though he could not understand why his swift recovery would alarm her.
“My thanks, Maggie. You are a truly wonderful healer. I feel awful that you have left your brother and Elwynna and must remain stuck here with me.” She was utterly trapped, in fact, and he hoped she did not panic or resent him.
Chewing her bottom lip, Maggie shrugged and sat on the edge of the hay mattress he laid on. Her backside bumped his thigh and he enjoyed feeling the warmth of her body seeping into his. Reaching into her satchel at the edge of the bed, she began to rummage for some supplies. “’Tis not so bad, after all. I mean, I would prefer it if you were not injured, of course. But I was only just telling myself the other day that I longed for a bit of… adventure.” Her rosy cheeks blushed a brighter red and she opened a jar of salve, gently rubbing the slimy substance over his wound.
Flynn crinkled his nose at the smell of the stuff and she giggled. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, especially with her sitting so close. Had she taken his word that he would not harm her? She seemed much more at ease this morn.
“This is a salve of burdock root and garlic. It smells, I know, but they work well to fight infection and heal skin. If there is nay infection of your blood, you should be all right. I would be seeing signs of a fever by now, I believe. You bled a lot, but that is good. Wounds that bleed more tend to become infected less. I do not know why, but… och, look at me, rambling on about things you do not care about.”
“That is not true. I am learning so much from you, Maggie, and I love your passion for healing. To think you can find a plant in the wild and know precisely how to use it. You are a rare and wonderful woman.”
Her blush increased and she covered her cheeks to try to hide the evidence. He meant every word he said and meant it even deeper than he could express. A tightening in his stomach told him that he was becoming much too attached to the lass. He wanted to know all of her, inside and out. He also knew he would miss her keenly when their time was over, and he had not been with her for more than two days yet. How could he feel this way so quickly? Though his interest in her had developed some time ago, all it had taken was a couple days for him to feel a shift in his heart.
Pulling out a long strip of clean linen from her satchel, she reached around his waist to wrap the fabric tightly. He arched his back slightly to allow her beneath him, and when he did so, she leaned forward for better reach. Their chests bumped and their faces were only inches apart. He had never been so close to Maggie and he suddenly saw the very small freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. He also noticed that her sky-blue eyes darkened the closer they got to the pupil.
Then, she felt it and her eyes wandered down toward the offending bulge. He looked as well and cursed himself for leaving his trouser loose the night before. Now his desire for her was more than obvious beneath his trousers, and worse yet, they had inched down his hips just enough to allow the tip to peek out of the top.
Taking a deep breath with a slight gasp, Maggie pulled back and continued to tie off the linen with shaky fingers. Flynn stilled, making sure she knew he would not touch her. He enjoyed the trust she was showing and did not want to do aught to destroy it. He berated himself, though he had not meant for such a thing to happen. He only wanted to prevent another knot in the tie of his trousers, but he could not help it that he grew painfully hard when her breasts grazed his chest.
When she was done, she swiftly stood up from the bed and took a few quick steps backward, just out of arm’s reach, he noted. Her survival instincts were practiced and ingrained into her every move. She had had to dodge more than one attack, he suddenly realized. He wanted to ask, but kept his mouth shut.
“Thank you,” he softly whispered, as calmly and kindly as he could while he pulled the furs over his groin again.
She nodded and wrung her hands, clearly in some sort of inner battle to be brave and stay, or allow fear to take over and flee.
“If you do not mind, I saw some herbs and other plants I wish to collect when I was out at the stream gathering fresh water and collecting berries yesterday. I would like to take a walk.” She was already holding her cloak and attempting to leave, when she realized that she still only wore her underdress. Horror crossed her face and she squealed, running over to her bed, where her blue dress lay crumpled in a heap atop the furs.
With fumbling hands, she pulled the dress over her lithe body, and Flynn made certain to turn away, so she would feel less vulnerable. He tried not to feel discouraged. They had made progress but he knew, realistically, it would require more time for her to trust him. Although, he thought, she had learned to trust his brother in only a few hours riding here from Ráth Mór. That rankled. Flynn was by far the less lusty of the two Mac Greine brothers. How could she fear Flynn and yet feel safe with Brennain, who would bed practically anything in a dress?
He heard her open and shut the door swiftly, and knew she was gone. With a sigh, he accepted his reality. He may not have much to offer sweet Maggie, but he vowed he would teach her to trust in him, and mayhap, men as whole, someday.
Chapter Seven
Oh, by all the gods in Ériu and Alba! She had felt it against her hip at first, when she leaned over to tie off his bandage,
but when she looked down, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. And gods help her, she felt a mixture of both panic and excitement. His manhood had stood straight up in his trousers, but she caught a glimpse of the tip. He must have left his garment loose after the troublesome knot the night before. Though her first instinct had been to back away in fear that he would grab for her, deep inside she believed his vow to keep his hands to himself.
Still, she was a grown woman and knew enough to know a man could not control such a reaction to a woman at times, just as she could not help the achy need pulsing below when she remembered the sight of it. She also knew that many men could not help but take a woman by force when they were filled with such desire. Her papa had forced himself on her mama every time he was in a lusty mood and her mama’s screams of terror still rang in her ears. It must be an awful act of violence and she had nay interest in the deed. It would surely destroy her. And yet, her nipples ached and her nether area throbbed. Her body betrayed her.
And when she realized she was still only in her underdress? By the gods, how had she made such an error? She had been ready to get fully dressed for the day when she heard Flynn awaken with a painful groan. All her healer senses had been redirected to caring for his needs, completely forgetting she was wearing a virtually transparent garment. Her cheeks flooded with heat at the thought. No wonder the man had been so aroused. She was leaning her body against him. It was her fault. Her mama always said it was a woman’s place to not provoke a man. If he was provoked into violence or lust, ‘twas the woman’s doing and therefore her deserved punishment. This was precisely why Maggie did aught to stay away from men. She seemed to naturally provoke them.
