the heat of their battle? Had he given in to his father's admonition ringing in his head?
Anguish twisted in his gut as he saw that Connor was bleeding both from his chest and his upper thigh.
"I did not mean to do it," Lachlan said, barely speaking the words aloud.
"What?" Connor looked down at himself with a frown. "Ach, ye didn't do this."
Several men jerked Lachlan to his feet and held him by his arms.
"For God's sake, let him go!" Connor thundered. "This blood is from old wounds. They must have broken open in the fight."
Lachlan staggered when the men released him.
"See, there's no cut in my shirt," Connor said, holding it out, then he pulled it off and showed the men the bleeding wound in his chest.
The jagged, circular wound clearly was not made by the blade of a sword, but by an arrow, and Lachlan knew Connor had a matching wound on his thigh.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I told ye," Connor said, gripping his shoulder and looking straight into his eyes. "Ye didn't do this."
But Lachlan had done it. And not in a fair fight, man-to-man, as Connor deserved.
Chapter 23
Someone fetched Ilysa after the fight, and now Connor had to endure the torture of her hands on his bare skin.
"Why are these arrow wounds taking so damned long to heal?" Connor asked.
He gritted his teeth as Ilysa's fingers drifted down his chest in feather-light touches. This was far worse than the times she had dressed his wounds after they first arrived at Trotternish. Back then, he could convince himself that the nearness of a woman - any woman - would have stirred him. Now there was no escaping that his desire was for Ilysa alone.
He had kissed her, and that had changed everything.
"The arrows went deep, and ye keep re-opening the wounds." Ilysa clicked her tongue in disapproval. "You're not careful at all."
She leaned over him, and her red-gold braid fell over her shoulder like an invitation. Though her bodice exposed nothing, his memory of the tops of her breasts in a low-cut gown was vivid.
"I heard you and Lachlan gave quite a display." She brushed the top of his thigh with her fingertips, taking his breath away. "I hope impressing the men was worth splitting open this wound on your leg."
"Lachlan got in a good hit there with the side of his sword," Connor said in a strained voice. In an attempt to divert himself, he added, "I'm thinking of making him my captain."
Ilysa withdrew her hands, and he felt their absence like a missing tooth.
"What, ye don't agree with my choice?" Connor asked. "Lachlan is the best warrior I have, and the men respect him."
"I'm sure you're right," she said, but her tone was uncertain. "But something troubles Lachlan, and I wish I knew what it was."
Connor forgot Lachlan - and everything else - when she rested one hand on his hip while she used the other to spread her lily-scented salve over the wound high on his thigh. He held his folded shirt over his throbbing erection. When Ilysa tied the bandage, her hand was so close to his cock that sweat broke out on his forehead. He closed his eyes before she caught him looking at her like a starving animal. But as soon as he closed them, his imagination took him in dark, erotic directions.
Connor snapped his eyes open, and there she was, her lovely face just inches from his. He remembered the softness of her lips, and he hungered to taste them again. It would be so easy to encircle her tiny waist, lift her onto his lap, and ravish her mouth.
"Almost finished," she said, sounding a bit breathless.
Is she thinking of those kisses, too? He envied the man who would be her next husband. Ilysa had a kind heart, a soothing presence - though Connor was not finding it soothing at the moment - and a calm, competent manner.
His gaze traveled over her as she turned to retrieve another rolled strip of linen from her basket, and he wondered what she was like in bed. When Ilysa took off her clothes and gave up control, was she the kind of lover who drove a man wild?
Connor swallowed. Aye, he suspected she was.
When Ilysa leaned across him to wrap the linen around his chest, her breast grazed his arm. Though it was barely a touch, they both drew in a sharp breath. Their eyes locked, and heat flared between them hot enough to set