Free Knight Awakened by Coreene Callahan Page B

She grabbed her satchel. “It will not heal if you ignore it, Xavian.”
    With a flick of his wrist, he sent the blade deep into the dirt between his feet and tilted his forearm for her inspection. She grumbled. He smiled, his mouth kicking up at the corners. The enticing display caused muscles low in her belly to flutter. Wretched stomach. She really must get a handle on that. Otherwise the unruly flock winging its way across her abdomen might fly her right into hot water.
    For some reason, her imagination took flight, supplying a mental picture rife with possibilities. Bathtubs and scented oils...and Xavian. Heat prickled across her cheekbones and, clambering to cover her reaction, she knelt beside him, making certain to stay clear of his thigh. The last thing she needed was more contact. Desire already sped through her veins, kicking her heart into a gallop, and she’d barely touched him.
    Keeping her face averted, she attacked the knot just below his elbow. Her hands brushed his skin. She suppressed a shiver laced with wonder. By the goddess, he was well-made. So powerful. All heat and hard muscle. She bit her bottom lip, tried not to notice, and forced her hands to move.
    End over end, she unwound the thin strip until she reached his wrist. With a flick, she tossed the bandage aside. He caught it in midair. She flinched, startled by his speed, and watched him lay the linen over one of his thighs, transfixed by the long, graceful lines of his hands.
    Beautifully masculine hands. Strong hands, capable of protecting, comforting...and pleasuring. Afina blinked. Pleasuring? All things goodness and light, what was the matter with her?
    Xavian shifted, nudging her with the outside of his thigh. Her gaze leapt to his face. A crease between his brows, he frowned at his injury.
    Releasing a breath in a slow rush, she turned her attention to the gash on his forearm. She scowled at him. “It’s inflamed.”
    “Not badly.” He flexed his fist, stretching the stitches.
    “Stop that,” she said, her tone snappish. “You will only make it worse.”
    Both brows rose, but he obeyed and uncurled his fingers. “As you wish.”
    Afina wasn’t fooled by his quick compliance. The dolt found her reaction amusing, but she couldn’t find anything to laugh about. He was fighting an infection. The sort of thing that could get out of hand quickly should she apply the wrong elixir or if the last batch of salve proved ineffective. What if she hadn’t made the balm strong enough and the poison seeped from the wound into his blood?
    And wasn’t that just what she needed; another failure to add to the pile.
    Pressure banded around Afina’s chest as dread linked with concern. Bianca’s words drifted through her mind.
Stay focused. Determine the damage. Treat the infection then stay the course.
Giving herself a mental nod, she followed her sister’s advice and, with a gentle touch, pressed her thumb and forefinger on either side of the cut. No seepage. A good sign. She bit the inside of her cheek and shuffled on her knees, changing her angle to check each stitch. Warmth slid across the nape of her neck. Intent on the wound, it took her a moment to realize the heat came from Xavian’s palm.
    She stiffened, the unexpected touch forcing her retreat. His grip firmed, holding her in place. The blue flame of his eyescaught hers, and his hand moved, massaging the tension from her stiff muscles.
    “’Twill be all right, lass.” His palm warm against her nape, he delved into her hair, the pleasing rub of his fingers difficult to resist. “I have had much worse and recovered without difficulty.”
    “What happened in the past is not at issue.” With a long sigh, she leaned into the stroking, even as she chastened herself for allowing it. She shouldn’t welcome his touch, should tell him to leave her alone and move away. The problem? She enjoyed it too much to stop him. It was so nice to be touched without expectation...without worry of