It was that damn feeling he got when his eyes connected with hers. It had touched something inside him, stirred it, and left him feeling… he shook his head. What the bloody hell was it about her that tormented him?
It also tormented him that she was out there in an awful storm, probably soaked through and probably without shelter or without the chance of a fire to keep her warm.
“Not my concern,” he barked at himself and slipped under the blanket.
He winced, a quick, sharp pain running through the scar on his cheek. He recalled the attack well. He’d been caught off guard and had fought with blood pouring down his face. He had briefly thought to surrender to the large man and see the curse upon his family die there and then, but his warrior instinct forbid it and he had fought to survive. A weakness he had found in the man, an injury that had not healed well, soon made it apparent that he could easily be defeated. His opponent had realized it as well and fled.
Light pierced the few small cracks in the door from the flash of lightning and the mighty thunder that followed felt as if it shook the small dwelling.
“Damn,” he mumbled and shook his head again.
There was no point in going out in the dark of night to find the woman. She could be anywhere. She probably moved on once she drank her fill at the stream, too afraid to remain near him. A wise decision on her part.
But what if she hadn’t?
He hadn’t realized he had been rubbing his shaft while lost in his thoughts until it hardened in his hand. He quickly released it. He had only satisfied himself that morning, and he didn’t need to spill his seed in waste again. Though, he would not spill his seed in a woman even if she was willing. He and his two friends, Odran and Brogan, the other clan lords that had been cursed, had pledged to sire no bairns so that the curse would end with them, and that was a pledge he intended to keep.
Thunder continued to rumble, and rain continued to fall heavily, and sleep continued to elude Rannick. Not so thoughts of the woman. She remained busy in his mind. He finally got out of bed and hurried into his garments. It was a fool’s errand, but he would get no rest if he did not go to see if she had remained by the stream.
He made sure to tuck a knife in the sheath at his waist and one in his boot, then he grabbed his cloak and swung it around his shoulders. He went to the door and swung it open.
He jolted, startled by the rain-drowned figure standing there.
“Help me,” the woman begged and fell into his arms.
CHAPTER 3
Rannick held her in his arms, for a moment, not sure what to do. Her soaked garments threatened his own and he hurried her to the bench to sit and to rest her back against the table’s edge. It was close enough to the fire to help dry her clothing. He rid himself of his own cloak before struggling to remove hers, heavy with rainwater.
He stepped back away from her as her eyes fluttered open and that was when he spotted the blood at her side.
“You need to stop the bleeding,” she warned through painful breaths. She continued to struggle to talk. “A pouch—my side—healer.”
He removed the pouch, dropping it on the table and crouching down beside her to take a look at the wound.
“Tree branch—clean before treating,” she said, and her eyes rolled back in her head then closed.
He steadied her with his hand, preventing her from tipping to the side and tried to get a better look at the wound. If a tree branch had stabbed her, then she was right in warning to cleanse the wound. Splinters of wood could have embedded themselves inside her and if not removed, the wound would turn putrid, and she would die.
“Bloody hell,” he mumbled. He had no choice. He had to strip off her garments so he could see the wound clearly and that was not going to be easy with how wet they were.
He would have preferred her to remain in a faint at least until he got her garments off, but she came to.
“I need to take your garments off,” he said, his face planted close to hers as he slipped his arm around her waist to get her to her feet.
“Aye,” she agreed and draped a weak arm over his shoulder.
A groan of pain rumbled in her throat as he launched her up off the bench.
Her tunic gave him little trouble, the shift beneath was a different matter.
“Please,” she pleaded after a few unsuccessful attempts and lowered her head on his shoulder.