Evanna was mesmerized by the stranger. At this moment he was so vulnerable that she quite literally had the power of life and death over him. She left him reluctantly to fetch some water, herbs, and wine so that Lexie could treat him, and when she came back she found that she had stripped him to the waist. She swallowed nervously as she gazed at his beautifully sculpted torso, then shook herself back to reality. She was not going to be reduced to a silly maid by a handsome face and a fine body.
“Are ye going tae help me or devour him with yer eyes?” Lexie asked pointedly, but Evanna could see the amusement on the older lady’s face. Her dark grey eyes were crinkling at the corners as she regarded Evanna.
“I am so sorry.” Evanna felt herself blushing as she poured hot water onto a cloth for Lexie. “I have never seen…” She trailed off, too embarrassed to go on.
Lexie laughed softly as she bent to her task. “I have been there too,” she said kindly. “Believe it or not, Evanna, I fell in love once.” She patted Evanna’s hand, then began to bathe the wound.
After a while, as Evanna watched Lexie’s skilled hands, she became too absorbed to think about the man they were tending. Before she had renounced her vows, Lexie had learned a good deal about medicine and the use of herbs and other substances to treat wounds and stave off infections. She still offered her services to whoever needed them, and Evanna was determined to learn all she could from her.
When she had finished washing him and applying the bandage, Lexie sat back and looked at Evanna with narrowed eyes. “I must bathe him from head tae foot,” she announced. “But I will summon one of the men tae help me. Go and eat and clean yerself up. I promise he will still be here when ye come back.”
Evanna nodded, then fled, not knowing whether to be annoyed or relieved.
* * *
Fraser was aware of sunlight, but he knew that was impossible because his eyes were closed, and he was dead. He knew he must be because Rowan had killed him. Maybe he was in heaven, or at least on the journey toward it, because he knew that he had definitely been murdered, yet he had no pain, nothing at all. He smiled, wondering why he had ever been afraid of dying. It was peaceful and pleasant after all, and he had Rowan to thank for it.
But now that his thoughts had strayed back to his cousin, rage began to build up inside him, and he realized that he could not be going to heaven because there was no room for that wicked emotion in paradise.
He remembered the horrible pain as the coarse twine of the bonds was cruelly tightened around his wrists and the evil gleam in Rowan’s eyes as he glared into his own. Rowan had deep, dark brown eyes, and despite being a reasonably handsome man, he had a presence that was off-putting, to say the least. Indeed, many would have called him sinister.
Many people could not bear to be in the same room as him, and those who could were people who wanted favors and gold. They saw his friendship as a means to an end since he had the ear of many important people and was influential in their decision-making. It was said that he had so much power because he knew everyone’s secrets and was not afraid to hang them over the heads of those concerned. He truly was a hateful man, and the loyalty he inspired among the company of the men he worked with was not real; it was born of fear.
So where was he now? Fraser listened carefully, tuning his ears for the slightest sound, and presently he heard voices, those of two women speaking quietly. One was a young voice, soft and sweet, the other slightly deeper and a little older. Could he risk opening his eyes? What if he opened them and found that he was lying on the ground with blood pouring out of him? What if the two women had been sent to tempt him? But surely it was better to know the truth.
He held his breath for a moment, then opened his eyes and looked up at the rough ceiling boards of a small room. He was lying on a straw bed that was comfortable, if not luxurious, with a soft woolen blanket draped over him. Fraser looked down, then realized that he was naked under the blanket and saw a clean white bandage on his shoulder and around each of his wrists. He remembered how he had come by the injuries, but strangely, they were not giving him any pain at the moment.
He had been washed, too, so he was clean, warm, comfortable, and not hungry or thirsty. In fact, if it were not for his encounter with Rowan, he would have been feeling wonderful. Fraser sighed and began to drift away, but not before hearing the soft women’s voices again murmuring to each other just above him. Then he thought he could smell lavender and the sweet scent of a woman’s skin before blackness descended again, and he remembered no more.
* * *
“What a beautiful man,” Evanna murmured as she gently wiped Fraser’s face with a warm damp cloth. “I wonder what happened to him, Lexie?”
“He is,” Lexie agreed. “It looks as if he might have been attacked by bandits, Evanna. I think they were disturbed, or they might have finished him off.” She inspected the bandages and nodded. “The wounds were bleeding a lot, but fortunately the injuries are not serious, although the ones on his hands will give him a fair bit of pain for a while. We must keep them clean, so continue tae bathe them with wine and rub them with salve when ye change the bandages. As well as that, he must be turned on his side now or he will develop pressure sores, and we must try tae do this as often as we can.”
She frowned as she looked down at him, thinking. Lexie was a big, strong woman, but the stranger was a hefty, muscular man. Together, she and Evanna tried to move him from his back onto his side, but it proved to be even more difficult than heaving him upstairs. Having positioned him correctly, they wedged a pillow on each side of his body to stop him from flipping over again, then stood back and looked down at him.
“Do ye know his name?” Lexie asked.
“His name is Fraser,” Evanna answered. “He told me before he passed out. I am glad we know since we may have tae engrave it on his tombstone.”
Lexie shook her head and then put an arm around Evanna’s shoulders. “We must hope and pray for the best, lass,” she stated firmly. “I do not think he is bound for the graveyard. Not yet, anyway.”
“I will sit through the night with him,” Evanna offered. “He might panic if he wakes up an’ nobody is wi’ him.”
Lexie nodded in approval. “Good idea, hen.” She looked down at the stranger for a long moment, noting how his color had improved. She had seen many people who were approaching death during her days as a nurse, and she knew that this was not one of them. She knew instinctively that this man was striding back on the road to health.
* * *
Evanna bent over the tall figure in the bed to see if there was any change in his condition, but there seemed to be none, although he was breathing more easily, and his skin was neither pale nor ruddy but a normal, healthy pink. She studied the stranger’s face carefully since she had never had a man in her bed before. She giggled at the thought, then looked at him more carefully, admiring his straight, regular features.
Then, greatly daring, she ran her fingertips over the dark Van Dyke-type beard that covered his face from his earlobes to his neck. It was shinier and softer than she had expected, not wiry and rough, and its color was the same blue-black as the wavy hair that dropped to his shoulders.Like a raven’s wing,she thought. She picked up one of his hands and examined it.It is almost as big as a dinner plate!she thought,with long, square-tipped fingers and prominent knuckles, and his palms are hard and rough with calluses. He obviously does some work with his hands, so he is not a nobleman.
Evanna was tempted to lift the blanket to see what was underneath it, but at the last moment, her courage failed her. However, gazing at his big, muscular shoulders, the dark hair on his face, and his prominent Adam’s apple, she began to experience things she had never felt before. She swallowed nervously as she realized that her heartbeat had started to race.
Her nipples were hard and throbbing, and there was a pleasant fluttering between her legs in a place that she had never given much thought to before. She felt wet and warm there too and wished that she could snuggle under the blanket with this stranger and hold him against her naked body.
She froze, suddenly realizing the direction in which her thoughts were taking her, and dropped the hand she had been squeezing without even realizing what she was doing. She was shocked at her own feelings and wondered if this was normal or if she was simply wicked. Did all women feel this way when confronted with an attractive man?