She shook her head.
He scowled and took hold of her chin. “You will drink this, it will ease the pain.”
She clamped her mouth closed, again shook her head, and gently pushed the tankard away.
He did not understand her reluctance to take it but he would not force her, she’d been through enough. He sat it on the table. “It is there if you want it.”
She nodded.
He left her a moment to fetch her night dress from the other room. He helped her to stand and when his hands went to her waist band, her hand stilled his. She tapped her naked chest.
“No, you will not do it yourself; I will do it.” He brushed her hand away and slipped her skirt down over her hips. She shivered and he quickly got her nightgown over her head and gently helped her get her arms in the soft wool sleeves.
Her brow scrunched and he winced aloud for her when he eased her wounded arm in the sleeve. He had her sit again as he gathered her skirt from around her feet and placed it on the back of a chair. Then he gently removed her boots.
“You should wear your wool stockings; it grows colder.” He looked up at her. “You are to stay abed until Elsa says otherwise.”
Dawn stared at him, a pressing question on her mind. She had not given thought to her actions and had blatantly interfered with his ruling. It was cause for severe punishment and she wondered how he would punish her. She was afraid to ask, though she was afraid not to ask. If she didn’t, she would not know a moment’s peace until she found out.
“Something troubles you?”
She nodded.
He lifted her gently in his arms and carried her to the bed in the other room and rested her back against the pillows to sit. He tucked the blanket up and around her waist before he asked, “Tell me what troubles you.”
He sat beside her waiting, his hand resting on her thigh, his dark eyes intense.
She pressed her hand to her chest and bowed her head.
“You’re sorry.”
She nodded and then pressed her fingers to her mouth and pretended to shudder.
“I understand that you were upset with the punishment I meted out, but it is not your place to interfere.”
Fear trickled through her as she placed her hand to her chest, scrunched her brow, and shrugged.
He seemed perplexed at first and then his brow shot up. “Are you wondering if I will punish you?”
She nodded slowly.
“You deserve a lashing for interfering in my decree, especially since it is the second time you have done so.”
She paled. She had seen those that Goddard had lashed under Colum’s order. The man had appeared to enjoy meting out the punishment. Out of the few who had suffered the sting of the lash, one had died.
“My word is law,” he reminded.
She bobbed her head.
“He intended to kill you,” Cree said. “He deserves a fitting punishment.”
She nodded, and then shook her head and pointed to her mouth.
“You made yourself very clear when you threw yourself over the prisoner. Punish him but don’t take his tongue.”
She nodded and began to gesture and Cree was pleased that he understood her.
“You think he may have more to tell me?”
She nodded and continued gesturing.
Cree scowled after she finished. “Yes, I thought the same myself… he seems in a hurry to die.”
A scrunch of her brow and a shrug had Cree voicing Dawn’s query. “Why is a good question, perhaps he does have more to tell us.”
Relieved that Cree would not carry out his edict and her shoulder throbbing, she closed her eyes a moment.
When she opened them Cree’s face sat only an inch or so from hers. She could not tell if it was anger, passion, or sorrow she saw in his dark eyes but whatever it was it burned deeply within him.
He took hold of her chin. “I will lash you myself if you ever do something so foolish again.” He dropped his brow to hers. “I could have killed you.” His whispered words brushed across her lips before he kissed her, then said, “I would have never forgiven myself.”
He kissed her again, gently and lovingly, but it had been his heartfelt words that touched her the most. That he would have regretted her death made her wonder if he possibly cared for her.
“Rest,” he ordered as he stood. “I will return later.”
How could she rest when there was so much on her mind? She nodded nonetheless and when she heard the door shut in the other room she slipped out of bed and went to sit in front of the hearth. She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. It was a habit of hers to sit that way before the fireplace whenever she was troubled. Her mother had often joined her and comforted her.