The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(51)

“Then why don't you hold it somewhere else for a minute? Under my nose, for example, so I can examine it.”

“Really, it's fine. You don't need to…”

“Reuben?”

“Yes, Milady?”

“Hold out your hand this minute, or I'll wrestle it from behind your back!”

His grin widened. “That might be fun. I'm all for it. Who knows, we might end up passionately fornica—“

“Reuben! Hold out your hand, now!”

“Yes, Milady, of course, Milady.”

Wisely saying not another word, he held his hand out towards her. Ayla gasped. The entire hand was an angry, aggressive red, as if it had been held into boiling water. In some places, the skin had blistered.

“You call this 'fine'?” she demanded. “You should have told me how bad it was! I would have come sooner.”

“I promise you,” he said in absolute earnesty, “it doesn't hurt at all.”

And that Ayla believed. She could feel the unanswered questions bubbling up inside her, fighting to get out. She opened her mouth to ask—and changed her mind.

I’m such a coward!

“It doesn't matter whether it hurts or not,” she said aloud. “It needs to be treated. I've brought a salve with me…”

Reuben snatched back his hand quicker than the eye could see and slid away from her as far as the bed would allow. “Oh no! No, no, no! No more of your salves! My nose still itches from the last time you smeared that foul-smelling substance somewhere on me. I'm not ever going to let you do that again!”

At first, Ayla wanted to snap at him—but then she got a better idea.

“Why, Sir Knight,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes, “one could almost think you are afraid.”

His mouth dropped open. “I? Afraid?”

“Yes. You appear to flee from a mere, helpless maiden. Poor, poor Sir Knight. If you’re frightened, I could comfort you.”

His mouth opened a bit wider. “I'm not afraid! Take that back now!”

“Why should I?”

“Because if you don't, I'll…I'll…”

She smiled innocently at him. “You'll what? Get your sword to defend yourself? Are you that afraid of me and my salve?”

His face twitched. “You can be quite devious, do you know that?”

“I? Devious? Whyever that? I only wish to help you.”

“Yes. That's what I mean.” With an adorably grumpy expression on his face, he slid back over to her and held his hand out proudly. “I am no coward!”

“No, you're certainly not,” she said, tenderly caressing the scorched skin. Feeling how his skin was burned drove all the humor from her face and voice. She worked quickly and quietly, working the salve into the skin deeply. She wished she was ten times a better healer, or better yet, that she possessed miraculous powers like the saints of old and could just make his injury disappear. It pained her, as a visual reminder that he had put his life at risk for her—and that he was probably going to have to do it again.

Having finished her ministrations, she bandaged his hand and let go of it. “There. Soon it will be as good as new.”

“Thank you,” he said a little grudgingly.

“Do you want to stay in here for a few days and recuperate?” she asked hopefully.

Please say yes. Please don’t put yourself in danger so soon again.

Grim-faced, he shook his head and laid his uninjured sword-hand on the hilt of his weapon. “No. For what I'm going to do, I don't need my left hand—only my right one.”

She didn't quite know what to say to that, so she didn't say anything. He watched her for a moment, then smirked at her.

“Oh, by the way, have you thought of a creative way of punishing me for my insolence yet?” He was obviously trying to lighten the mood. “You are welcome to use any of the torture methods I have outlined. However, they are often fatal. You could have me branded with hot irons, if you should wish me to live longer than a day.”

Ayla could feel a lump in her throat. Yes, he was trying to lighten the mood—and wasn't doing a very good job of it. Again she thought of the fire consuming his hand. What had he done to become the way he was?

The question burned in her mind hotter than the flame.

~~*~~*

Reuben could see Ayla swallow.

“I would like you to live much longer than a day Reuben,” she said, her voice suddenly trembling. “I would like you to live a long, full, and happy life.”

Her words wiped the smirk right off his face. Slowly, very slowly, he extended his hand towards her. He hadn't really touched her since that fatal night, when she had learned the truth of who he was and how he had lied to her. The few times he had seen her since, he had not dared to. That did not mean that he had not thought of it constantly.

Inch by inch, his hands neared her face. As they did, he could hear her breathing quicken, and his own matched her rhythm. Carefully and tenderly, he stroked the backs of his knuckles against her cheek, than hastily withdrew. In parting, he could feel the moisture of her breath on his fingers.

“That is what I wish for you, too, Ayla,” he said in a tone so serious he hardly recognized his own voice. “More than anything in the world.”