“Because the wound will bleed freely once ye remove the arrow.” Rory shrugged. “Ye will need to cauterize it.”
“Caut… You mean put hot iron to your skin?”
“Aye.”
“But…” She didn’t finish the inane question. Of course it was going to hurt. She didn’t need to point that out. He must be well aware of it. “Um…if you will…remove…your breeches, I will gather the things I need.”
“Doona forget the whisky.”
“I won’t.” She was beginning to think she needed a drink herself.
Kindling and a small log had already been laid in the brazier, which, she noticed as she lit it, was well placed in the midst of a cobblestone circle and not near any wall, for the safety of the animals. A pitcher and basin sat on top of a chest of drawers across from the cot. She found a few eating utensils in one drawer and a wash cloth and towel in another, along with an extra shirt. She made quick work of hacking the sleeves off it to use for bandages and laid everything by the cot, then she went back to the main room to fetch the whisky and melted snow. She nearly dropped one of the buckets when she returned.
While she’d been gone, Rory had divested himself of his breeches. She probably should be grateful he hadn’t asked for help withthat. At least he’d draped the towel over his nether parts as well as the wound, but the sight of the rest of his hard, muscular legs did funny things to her insides.
She approached him slowly, laying the things she’d brought from the other room on the floor. “I think I have everything I need.”
“Whisky first.”
“Am I not supposed to pour that on your wound after I remove the arrow?”
“Aye, but I think I need a fortifying swallow.” He managed a wan smile. “Ye might take one for yourself.”
“I will wait.” She handed him the flask. The last thing she needed was a shaky hand. She was already shaking like the last autumn leaf in a gale.
He took three swallows. Healthy ones. Then handed back the flask.
“Tell me what to do.”
As he explained what she would need to do once the arrow was out, she wasn’t sure she was capable. But there was no one else, so she nodded.
“Now,” he said once he’d finished, “take yoursgian dubhand lay the blade across the coals.” When she’d done that, he picked up one of the makeshift bandages she’d torn from the shirt. “Take this—it will work like a tourniquet and keep the bleeding down—and wrap it tight around my leg above the wound.”
Above the wound? That meant she’d have to lift the towel and…see…his…his… She took a deep breath, chiding herself. She was going to have to move the towel anyway to see thewound. She simply wouldn’t look at…his…thing. Gingerly, as though she were reaching for a coiled snake, she picked up a corner of the towel, inching it upward.
“I’ll die of old age if ye keep that pace.” Rory yanked the towel away. “Let’s get this done.”
He was wearing small clothes. Relief flooded her, blood returning to her face in such a rush that her ears rang and she scarcely made out his words. Of course he was wearing an undergarment. Her face felt on fire. “I thought… I mean, I did not…ah—”
“I would nae mind stripping naked for ye, lass, but I doona think much would come of it if I did right now, so ye doona have to fash.”
She frowned. “I am not…fashing.”
“If ye say so.” He bent his knee. “The tourniquet?”
It was then that she actually saw the arrow. It had lodged near the back of his thigh, the skin around it ruby red. “It does not look good.”
“I dinna think it would. Just get the bandage on.”
Juliana gave herself a shake in order to focus. The arrow was midthigh, and she placed the cloth a good two inches away from the swelling around it, which was dangerously close to his manhood. Although she took care to avoid touching him there, when she started to secure the bandage by pulling it tight, his leg jerked and her hand brushed against the bulge, which instantly enlarged. She pulled her hands back. “I did not mean—”
“Just. Get. On. With. It.”
For a fleeting second, she thought he meant he wanted her to fondle him. She waited for the familiar sense of panic to set in, but it didn’t. In another moment, her mind cleared and she realized he meant to get the arrow out. Why was she thinking such foolish thoughts? He had not acknowledged the reaction. He probably hadn’t even felt it.
She took a deep breath to steady her hands. “Do I just grasp and pull?”
For an instant, something sparked in his eyes, and she realized her words may have come out wrong, since that part of him twitched again. She certainly didn’t mean to grabhim. Was he trying not to smile? She drew her brows together. “Where do I grasp thearrow?”
