Free A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book) by Amy Jarecki

“You’re hurt.”
    “I’m fine.” He pushed past her and set his bundle on the table. “Not to worry, ’tis coming good.”
    “Someone should have a look at it.”
    “Whom do you suggest when we’re trying to keep our identities hidden?” He opened the parcel. “Besides, I purchased a few things from a kindly Gypsy.” He held up a stoppered stoneware pot and a jar filled with dirty water. “A salve and a handful of leeches.”
    Meg walked to the table and peered into the jar. “A Gypsy? I’m surprised he didn’t rob you blind.”
    Duncan chuckled. “Me? He wouldn’t have survived the night.”
    She tapped her top lip with her tongue. “I suppose a knight as large as you can move within many unsavory circles without fear.”
    He grinned and picked up the vessel containing four ugly bloodsuckers. “I could put these on myself . . . if I had a twist-around spine.”
    Meg couldn’t look him in the eye. “You want me to do it?” She clapped her good hand to her chest. “I-I don’t know much about healing.”
    “Aye? Well, ’tis time you learned—I’ve no intension of being waylaid with a fever.”
    Meg eyed the jar, then glanced at Duncan’s backside. A tempest of butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She’d never seen a man’s flesh—never even seen Arthur without him being fully clothed. “Do you think I can place the leeches through the wee hole in your chausses?”
    Duncan unclasped his belt. “If only the hole was directly over my wound.” He chuckled. “Do not worry yourself. I’ll keep my back turned.” He pointed at the jar. “Put two leeches either side then swipe the salve right down the middle.”
    Before Meg could blink, he dropped his chausses and lowered his braies. Her mouth went completely dry. His chiseled, naked bottom peeked from under his linen shirt. She gaped at the hard lines and smooth, rounded buttocks. The backs of his thighs were long, yet they bulged with sinew and muscle, peppered with black curls.
    He twisted around. “Lady Meg?”
    Blinking, she jolted and met his gaze.
    He pointed to his right buttock. “My wound’s over here.”
    Her eyes popped wide. Yes, indeed. It was a huge mass of purple, black and yellow, with an angry, jagged red cut down the center of the mess. She hissed. “That looks awful.”
    “’Bout the same as it feels.”
    Meg tried not to ogle the male flesh presenting to her, and focused on Duncan’s wound. She reached out her hand then quickly snapped it back. It would be ever so improper to touch him.
    “I don’t reckon staring at it’ll help me heal.”
    She stepped back. “True.” She fumbled with the stopper on the jar of leeches. “Two on each side, you say?”
    “Aye.”
    Leeches were such slimy, vile creatures. Meg gritted her teeth. Clearly, Duncan needed their medicinal magic. Even she knew leeches were one of the best options to keep infection away. She squeezed one gently and pulled it from the glass. Her stomach turned over. Fingers trembling, with a grimace she put the squirming black glob of slime beside Duncan’s wound. Her fingers brushed his flesh. Unexpectedly soft, she stilled her hand as if she’d just avoided being burned.
    He grunted.
    The cut oozed yellow. Meg balled her fists so she wouldn’t touch him and peered closer. “It looks awfully bad.”
    “You’d best apply the other leeches, then.”
    Meg did as asked until four unsightly blobs hung from his bruised bottom. “Now what?”
    “They’ll feast until they fall off.” Duncan glanced at her over his shoulder. “Spread on the salve.”
    Meg swallowed. For a moment, she’d forgotten a rugged warrior stood bare arsed in front of her. She mustn’t pay heed to the softness of his skin. The wound looked horrid. If she didn’t tend him properly, he could succumb to a fever—even an enormous, strapping man like Duncan wasn’t hewn of iron. “The cut needs to be properly cleansed first.” She drew her hand over her mouth—now she’d