that a little wooing would be harmless if doing so could preserve Gregor’s and my lives.
“My lady.” I tried to make my tone serious. “I am truly grateful for your doctoring.”
She knelt beside me and gently peeled back the cloak.
“Without your tender ministrations, my wounds would be festering by now.”
She bent closer and examined one of the cuts on my arm.
Think. I’d interacted with many maidens over the past few years as I’d come of age. Wealthy noblemen and foreign kings alike had flaunted their daughters before my brothers and me at court. I’d never been without attention from one comely woman or another. What had I done then to gain their favor?
For a long moment, I scoured the far corners of my brain but could come up with nothing. In all truth, I’d never had to do anything, because the young ladies had been the ones to throw themselves at me.
I glanced sideways at the veiled woman. How could I charm her when I had no idea how to do so? What would Vilmar do if he were in my place? Or Kresten? My youngest brother had been the most winsome amongst the ladies.
I pictured Kresten winking and teasing, tossing back his handsome head and laughing. He’d always been smooth-tongued, saying just the right words to melt a woman’s heart. I’d scoffed at his use of such tactics, but what I wouldn’t give to have his ability at this moment.
“And how are the wounds feeling?” She bent to examine another of the areas she’d stitched.
What could I say that would sound witty and impressive? The cogs within my mind whirred, but again, I was speechless.
She sat back, her brows furrowing. “That bad, my lord?”
“No, they’re doing well enough.” I felt suddenly like an awkward lad using a blunt sword instead of a full-grown man on the cusp of ruling a nation.
“Then the poultice I packed into each is easing the pain?”
“Poultice?” I glanced down at my arm and chest to the places she’d stitched. I caught a whiff of spices I couldn’t begin to name. “The wounds do hurt, but I’m sure without your efforts I’d have no relief.”
She studied another one of the areas and then draped the cloak back over my shoulders and arms. Ought I mention how appealing I looked without my tunic? Vilmar or Kresten would say such a thing.
But somehow the words stuck, and I knew if I forced them, I’d sound even more like an awkward lad.
“You are hungry, are you not?” She reached into one of the baskets and removed a small crock.
“Very.”
She lifted the lid and held it close to my face, letting the waft of steam rise beneath my nose.
I attempted to raise my hands to take the bowl from her, only to remember they were securely fastened to the floor. Her eyes lit, almost as if she was smiling in enjoyment at my helplessness.
She rose, crossed to Gregor, and handed him the bowl. Since his hands were free, he took the soup eagerly and began to drink it. Surely she wouldn’t be so cruel as to make me watch Gregor eat without giving me anything.
As she returned to the basket and retrieved a second crock, she caught me watching her. “You did not suppose I would let you go hungry, did you?”
“Alas, I confess, it crossed my mind.”
“I am not so heartless as that.”
“If you’re not heartless, then you will unshackle my hands so I might eat like a man and not an animal.”
“I would never allow you to eat like an animal, my lord.” Her voice was low, and her stunning green eyes captured and held mine as she walked over and knelt next to me. She situated herself, her knees brushing against me. And then she lifted the bowl to my lips, never once averting her eyes. Instead, the green turned dark and seemed to beckon me.
My heart began to thud an unsteady rhythm. When the bowl tipped higher and our connection was lost, I sipped but didn’t taste anything. I could only ponder how pretty and expressive her eyes were.
When I finished drinking the last of the soup, she set the bowl on the cave floor and then lifted her hand. Her fingers hovered above my mouth for an eternal second before she dabbed at the corner with her thumb. “You have a drop of soup . . .”
At her touch, something warm streamed into my veins, reminding me of drinking hot glogg on a snowy