Not Half Plaid (Bad in Plaid 2)

Fen shifted her weight, her attention divided now between the sight of his capable hands and the ache between her thighs. She pressed her legs together, trying to ease the pressure, but knew it wouldn’t be enough. When this dish was complete, mayhap she could sneak away to her chamber for a short time and ease the persistent ache with her own fingers, while remembering the way those hands felt on her skin.

She realized her breathing was getting short just about the same time Brodie spoke her name. “Fenella?”

Startled, Fen’s left hand jerked, and her thumb took the remaining pepper’s position—under her blade.

She sucked in a gasp; the sharp pain mixing with the heady arousal already flowing through her veins, making her body confused as hell.

Then, before she could do aught more than stare down at the blood welling from the pad of her thumb, he was there beside her, supporting his weight against the counter, and reaching for her.

“Fenella,” he murmured, cradling her hand delicately inside his larger one. “Och, lass, I’m sorry.”

It was the comfort in his tone, as well as the sensation of warmth which always seemed to flow from his touch, which had her shuddering. He glanced at her in alarm, and she offered a smile.

It must’ve looked sickly, judging from the way his eyes widened.

Quickly, he snatched up the cloth she’d been using to carry the vegetables in and wrapped it around her thumb to catch the few drops of blood. Then he thrust her hand against her chest. “Put pressure there, lass,” he commanded as he reached for his crutch.

Once he had it situated, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and began to hobble toward the corridor which led to their mutual rooms.

“Where—”

“Dinnae argue,” he snapped, giving her a little push to continue as he straightened. “Let me fetch some of the boiling water, and I’ll meet ye in the sick room.”

Her brows rose. “The sick room? For a cut?”

“The sick room,” he repeated firmly. “For an injury. Go.”

Well, how could she deny him when he got all commanding and caring and worried like that? Besides, she found she quite liked this fierce side of him.

Hiding a smile, she hurried down the corridor to the sick room.

This room was normally Nicola’s domain. There were two beds here—little more than cots—where the clan members who’d been hurt could recuperate. Despite the name, the room rarely housed those sick with communicable illnesses, because Nichola preferred those patients to stay in their own homes, rather than spread contagions.

In the time since Kenneth and Brodie McClure had arrived at Oliphant Castle, each had spent time in the sick room, but only Brodie had stayed. Fen stopped in the middle of the room and eyed the few possessions Brodie had spread across one of the trunks: a dagger, a few carvings, some coins, and a brooch for his plaid.

Nichola had turned this room over to his use until she would need it for another patient. Kenneth had taken a guest chamber above stairs, although he shared Leanna’s chamber—St. Jennifer knew how he could stand the mess—since their marriage. But Brodie couldn’t easily climb stairs, and since he preferred to spend his days in the kitchens, it had made sense to give him a space down here.

Near her.

“Has the bleeding stopped?”

His question had her whirling about to see him negotiating the door with a bowl of steaming water in his free hand. Chagrined to realize she hadn’t even thought about her minor injury, Fen began to unwrap her thumb.

“Aye, it— Och, nay.” The cut began seeping again when she bent the digit.

He’d reached Nichola’s worktable and gestured to her to join him. “First we’ll clean it.”

“Brodie, ‘tis really no’ so bad,” she protested, even as she moved up beside him.

“Hush, lass,” he murmured, as he gently held her thumb in place and began to pat at it with a warm, wet cloth.

The sensation shouldn’t have been arousing.

It was.

Everythingabout this man was arousing, Fen was beginning to suspect.

As he worked on her injury, she studied the top of his bent head. Scars crisscrossed the surface, a reminder of the work he’d done for so long. That was who he used to be, but now this warrior was cradling her, protecting her, caring for her.