Page 46 of The Iron Earl
But he already knew he wasn’t going to allow any of them the opportunity.
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Her skirt lifted high, Evalyn bit into the edge of the fabric and then tore another strip off of the bottom of her chemise. The motion shifted her feet in the shallow pool at the edge of the brook she sat next to, sending sharp pangs of torture from her heels up her legs.
Her head bowed as she caught air into her lungs and her look steadied on the tiny smooth pebbles along the tips of her toes. She let the pain wash over her for a long breath. Letting it come and go was far easier than fighting it.
“Does it help—the cold water on your feet?”
Her head snapped up and she twisted on the boulder she sat upon to find Lachlan standing behind her.
She hadn’t heard him approach. After helping her down to the brook, Domnall had said she would have privacy so her guard hadn’t been up.
She turned back to the bubbling water and shoved the skirt of her dark wool dress down over her shift. “It does. At least the coolness of it does, though I thought that as well last night when I soaked them. If anything, at least the blood has been washed away.”
“Don’t stop what you’re doing on my account.” He flicked a finger at the bottom hem of her skirt and stepped forward, his black boots crunching along the pebbles that lined the water’s edge. Stopping next to her, he settled his hands on the hilt of his sword as he looked down at her. “What were you doing?”
“I was ripping strips from my chemise.” She picked up the pile of already torn linen and held it up to him. “They’re to wrap around my feet. I’m hoping I can at least hobble along with these swaddling my skin.”
“The roads will shred the fabric within fifty feet.”
“No, Domnall cut out the toes and heels of my boots.” She leaned over to pick up one of her mangled boots and lifted it to him. “And I can loosen the laces so there is space for the wrappings and my feet will still be protected at the top and bottom.”
Lachlan took the boot from her, turning it around in his fingers as he studied Domnall’s craftiness with his blade.
His mouth went to a terse line, his brow furrowing. “Most enterprising of him.”
She blinked at the harsh cut of his voice. “I’m sorry, is there something I don’t understand that is amiss? Should I not have accepted his help?”
“No—no.” Lachlan shook his head slightly and the annoyance on his face disappeared. “It’s good that he was helping you. These and the strips you are to wrap your feet with should work until we can procure new, properly fitting boots for you.”
He handed the boot down to her. “But you do understand that no one is going to make you walk from here on?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know, so I wanted to be prepared. I would at least like to be able to hobble down to the water’s edge and stand enough to help Rupe with the meals.”
Lachlan pulled his dirk from his waist and dropped to balance on his heels. “Can I help?”
Her look fixed on the blade only inches from her and she had to force herself not react, not to scramble away from him. “Help?”
“With the strips.” He motioned to her skirts and the chemise she hid away. “It looks like you’ll need at least five or six more and it’ll go faster with a blade.”
“Oh.” She had to override her instant alarm and ignore the sudden adrenaline coursing through her veins. “Then yes. Yes, that would be helpful.”
She lifted the gray wool skirt and tugged out the now ragged bottom edge of her chemise. Her legs were bared to him, but there would be no helping that. Of course, he’d seen far too much of her bare skin when he’d stripped off her wet dress in the tent. Any propriety she attempted to feign had been lost days ago.
He set to work, quickly slicing the fabric into long even strips, much more even than what she was able to accomplish by tearing at the fabric. His work went further and further up her legs, over her knees to her thighs, but in a small kindness, he managed to keep his fingers from brushing her.
When the pile of the strips appeared sufficient, he set his dagger back in the sheath at his waist and moved to sit on a boulder next to the one she sat on.
He glanced down at her feet soaking in the water. “Your feet do look better without the blood smeared all about them. Are they already healing?”
Evalyn looked down at her toes, lifting her foot to inspect her heels. “I hope. The blisters that were still holding pus don’t look quite as angry as they did earlier.”
She glanced up to catch a half-smile lifting his left cheek. It brought a slight crinkle to his eyes, enough spark to catch her gaze on his irises as he looked at her feet. She’d noted them before, his hazel eyes, but she’d never really studied them, separated out the streaks of blue and brown, along with the random flecks of green that made a kaleidoscope of color. She stared at the variations, trying to trace them, transfixed.
Transfixed for far too long.
His gaze lifted from her feet and she started, caught in her stare. A flush traveled into her cheeks and she turned her head, searching for something—anything—to move her past the awkwardness.