Knight Awakened Read Free Page A

exploded across the nape of her neck in a warm rush of sensation. The tingle of awareness frightened her, made her tense with the need to rush him out the door. Something about him wasn’t quite tame. She got the sense the only rules he followed were the ones he made for himself. And for a girl who needed the rules to feel safe, that wouldn’t do.
    Afina set the small kettle she carried on the table. Iron bumped against wood. The uneven thump sounded loud in the stillness, an unanticipated announcement of her ineptitude. She paused, waiting for the accusation, any sign he understood the cryptic message. He said nothing and waited, patient in her moment of hesitation. In a flurry of movement, she placed the folded towels to one side then flapped one square open and spread it onthe wooden planks. Without being told, Xavian placed his forearm on the linen and, with the flick of his fingertips, gestured for her to begin. She quelled the urge to run in the other direction, wanting to scoop Sabine up and head for the hills so badly the impulse made her mouth dry.
    The rattle of dice and Sabine’s giggle rippled, joining the crackle of fire in the hearth. Grateful her daughter was occupied, she flipped her bag open and extracted a small vial of liquid. Lightning quick, Xavian encircled her wrist, his grip just short of bruising. Air rushed from her chest in a puff, and her gaze shot to his. The instant she made contact, he raised a brow, a clear question in his eyes.
    She swallowed. “Distilled witch hazel. I must clean the wound before I stitch it. Otherwise you will suffer an infection.”
    He held her captive a moment more then uncurled his fingers, releasing her from the calloused shackle. She drew a soft breath and, spreading the liquid on the linen, shifted closer. His heat reached out, wrapping her in warmth scented by male and something more. Rich and earthy, he smelled fresh and clean, like the forest after a summer storm. Afina inhaled and dabbed at the wound, sifting like a bloodhound through the complexities of his scent, wondering how he’d come by it. Did he use a special soap? What blend of herbs would create an aroma so full of woodsy delight? She leaned toward him, nose twitching, brain working to unravel the mystery ingredients.
    He shifted, and she flinched as the backs of his fingers brushed the curve of her cheek. Unaccustomed to being touched, she stayed stone still, afraid to look at him while he pushed the hair that had fallen into her face over her shoulder. His hand hovered close, and hers stopped above his injury, a stunted breath tangled in her throat.
    His tone soft and even, he murmured, “There, now you can see what you are doing.”
    Afina nodded her thanks and straightened on a shaky breath. Her gaze averted, she reached into the satchel and pulled out a fine bone needle. “I’ll stitch it closed then apply salve and wrap it.”
    His chin dipped, and he angled his arm to give her better access. Fighting queasiness, she imagined Bianca, pictured her steady hands, replayed every instruction her sister had given her, and set needle to flesh. Her stomach clenched, rolling in protest. She inhaled through her nose, ignoring the slight tremor in her hand and, with steady precision, closed the gash with tight, narrow stitches.
    “You’ve a gentle touch,” Xavian said, his voice mild and full of approval. “You are very good at this.”
    Afina almost snorted. Good at it? Was he soft in the head? The man obviously hadn’t been hurt very often. She wasn’t stupid enough, however, to correct him as she tied off the threads. If he wanted to believe she was an accomplished healer, so much the better. His ignorance walked her one step closer to the gold coin. Hmm, she could almost taste the goat’s milk.
    “You’ll need to keep it dry,” she said. “No water or soap on the wound.”
    Slathering thick ointment over the injury, Afina peeked at him from beneath her lashes, wanting to be sure he paid