be sure if he was conscious.
Alice swiftly made a pallet, then stood and regarded the very large, very wet man lying beside the table. Only about four feet from the makeshift bed, she tapped her fingers to her lips. “I reckon we need to remove your clothing, else you’ll catch your death.”
He didn’t move—not even a twitch. “Mm,” he moaned. At least he was still conscious.
She stooped and tugged his uninjured arm upward until she pulled him up enough to prop his back against the table leg.
“I’m going to remove your brooch and plaid,” she explained, examining Quinn’s plaid. As far as she could tell it was belted around his waist with the remaining length pulled across his back their backs and pinned at his shoulder.
She bit down on her lower lip as she unfastened the brooch. And when the damask rose fell into her palm, she snarled. “A lot of luck you’ve brought us.” Shaking her head, she placed both the rose and brooch on the table, completely unable to fathom what her grandmother had been up to. Attending the fête proved a calamitous mistake. Alice should have stayed home and tended to her mending. Then she wouldn’t be in this situation. And His Lordship mightn’t have been shot.
“Can you unfasten your belt?” she asked, clasping her hands. “I’ll avert my gaze and then you can slip under the blankets.”
Of course, the daft Highlander chose now not to respond at all.
Her gaze slipped to the enormous silver buckle. Not only did it secure the man’s kilt in place, this was Lord Quinn’s belt. Of all the Highlanders in Scotland, the heir to the Campbell dynasty was bleeding and shivering in her wee cottage. Groaning, she looked to the rafters. “Merciful fairies, I’ll do it.”
Besides, because he is a Campbell, I shall be utterly unaffected by anything I might happen to see.
Aye, Alice thought herself an impenetrable fortress, especially when it came to this man…until, with one tug, the cloth dropped away, revealing a pair of muscular thighs peppered with dark hair. She’d never imagined a man’s legs could be so powerful, so alluring. And aside from his shoes and hose, his only remaining garment was a long linen shirt covering the tops of his thighs. The wet cloth clung to his skin tightly and revealed every contour of his body beneath. The hole at the left shoulder was stained with blood, but just below the thick and fleshy muscles in his chest stood proud. At the tips were dark circles, nipples not much different than hers, but remarkably different at the same time. Her mouth grew dry as, unable to stop herself, her gaze drifted lower. His abdomen rippled with bands of sinew as if hewn from iron. And lower… Holy everlasting father, lower. A dark triangle of hair shadowed his sex and there was absolutely no question about his manhood. This was as virile a man as ever walked the Highlands of Scotland.
Forcing her mouth to close, Alice wiped her eyes. “Ah…I suppose you may as well take off your shirt as well.”
When he didn’t respond, she removed his shoes and hose first, her gaze frequently flickering to his face to see if he might stir. She stood back and tapped her foot. Come, ye beast. Do not make me strip ye completely bare.
“Take off your shirt, Quinn!” she shouted.
The man’s eyes flashed open. Shuddering, he whisked the garment over his head. “Arrgh!” he howled as the linen stuck to his wounded shoulder.
Alice held up her hand to shade her eyes from his…him…that… Good Lord, are all men thus endowed? “I’ll finish.”
She stripped away the shirt, leaving him completely nude. Trying not to ogle the poor injured soul, she urged him toward the pallet where she’d turned the blankets down. “I’ve made up a wee bed. I need you to shift yourself over there. Just a roll or two and you’ll be toasty warm.”
Somehow, he managed to inch over, though as soon as his bum hit the comfort of the pallet, he dropped to his back, sprawled like a spider.
Alice peeked at him through her fingers. “Ah…are you intending to stay in that position?”
Evidently, he was because His Lordship didn’t bother to twitch.
“Very well.” She picked up the blanket and dropped it over his lap.
After a healthy pat to her chest her heart returned to a somewhat normal cadence. She bent over his injured shoulder. It was angry red with traces of black powder encircling the puncture wound.