Scottish Devil (Brethren of Stone 1)

“Don’t say anything,” she whispered back. She didn’t want to discuss the future and she was afraid he was about to ask about his proposal. “I just want to enjoy the feel of you.” She gulped. “Thank you for everything today.”

He gave a nod. “Most people beg me to actually talk with them. They don’t usually ask me to be quiet.”

A giggle bubbled out of her lips. “I’m so glad that you’re all right.”

“Me too.” He set her feet down. “There are wounded that need to be tended.”

She gave a nod. “I’ll help.”

“I don’t want you up on deck.” He shook his head. “It’s a gruesome scene.”

He was protecting her…again. “Bring them down to the sleeping quarters. I can care for men who need it there.”

He jerked his chin in acknowledgement and, keeping his arm about her waist, led her to the sleeping quarters.

That touch stayed in her thoughts for the next several hours as she tended the wounded. The feel of being tucked into his very strong side.

Judging by what she heard above her, the deck was cleared and the ship sailed into the harbor. It was distant at first, but as they sailed through toward the shore, the cheers of people could be heard above the rush of the water.

Finally making her way back into the open air, she could see the docks and shores of Kirkaldy lined with people who waved and yelled their appreciation.

They docked and though she saw Stone, she didn’t talk with him as he bounded off the boat and crossed the docks. She was certain he was checking on his other ships. She did notice that his arm was bandaged. She’d have to see to the wound later.

Her father managed to find them dinner and she continued to tend the injured. It was late into the night when she’d finally seen all her duties done and her patients put to bed.

Grabbing some first aid supplies, she did not return to her room but instead made her way to Stone’s. She likely shouldn’t do it. Even just tending his arm, she shouldn’t be alone in his quarters with him, but try as she might, she simply couldn’t care. If she were forced to marry him, the decision would be made. She’d find a way to help the people in her role as countess.

Reaching the door, she lifted up her hand and knocked.

The door wrenched open almost immediately and Stone appeared in the doorway scowling fiercely. “What?” he barked.

“You’re dreadful, you know that, don’t you?” She raised her eyebrows as she gave his shoulder a gentle push to make room for herself to squeeze through the doorway. “Why do you insist on trying to scare everyone?”

“What are you talking about?” he growled it out even as he moved to allow her in the room.

“Your glower, your growl.” She pointed at the chair. “You’re my last patient of the day. Sit.”

He gave her a scowl even as he sat. “Have you been working this entire time? You should be in bed. It’s been a trying day.”

“I like the work, but I appreciate your concern.” She unwrapped the loose bandage. His shirt had already been cut away and it dangled by his side, but it was clear that it had been hastily wrapped around the wound. “My contribution is small compared with so many of the men. Look at you.” The gash was crusted and angry, running several inches down his upper arm.

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled again even as he held out the arm for her to tend. “And you shouldn’t be here. Your reputation.”

“Where is your whisky?” she asked. When he reached over to grab it, his shoulder came into contact with one of her breasts. She sucked in her breath at the jolt of sensation that shot through her.

“Here.” He leaned back again and handed it to her.

“Take a swig.” She pushed it back at him. Once he had, she took one too, letting the liquid burn down her throat before she dumped a liberal amount on the wound.

“Bloody bullocks,” he yelled as the liquid washed away some of the blood.

“I need to do it again,” she said, giving him the bottle and he took another even larger swig and then she did the same, before pouring more down his arm.

“Hell and damnation,” he grunted.

“Sorry.” She winced but the wound looked cleaner, then she tested the flesh. “I don’t think I can sew it, it’s been open too long.”

“Give it a good wrap and it will be fine.” His good arm coiled about her waist. “And thank ye fer coming, though like I said, yer risking yer reputation.”