Charming the Chieftain by Deanie Roman Page A

infection.”
    “It is no’ safe to stay here. I am not the only one who knows of these caves.”
    “Aeden — ”
    He talked over her protest. “The men who tried to kill me may come back seeking proof of my death. I can no’ take the chance of anything happening to you.”
    “These men would kill a woman in cold blood?”
    His eyes pierced the distance between them. “Death would be a blessing on you, lass.”
    Disturbed, she sat back on her heels. “What would you have me do?”
    Her wide-eyed innocence was merely a smoke screen to deflect his attention. He knew enough about her to know she possessed a keen mind.
    “I ask again. What would you have me do that I have not done all ready?”
    “Seal it.”
    She blanched. “No.”
    He gave her a steely eyed look. “Lass, you know ’tis the only way.”
    She said nothing.
    “You must do this,” he insisted.
    She stared back at him and then, finally, nodded in agreement.
    • • •
    Elisande hunkered against the wall, unable to rest. The smell of sizzling flesh clung to her clothes. How he suffered the swipe of a heated dagger across his inflamed wound was beyond her knowledge. Although he remained stoic during her ministrations, she knew holding back cost him. She also knew he hadn’t uttered a word for her benefit, and for that she owed him her gratitude. The blade lay heavy in her hands. Somewhat curious, she inspected the dagger. The smoothed hilt bore a high sheen from years of use. She ran her fingertips along the inset of ivory at its base. Whoever owned the knife possessed a substantial amount of coin. Unless the knife was stolen, it belonged to a man of means. Ironic to think the very dagger that almost ended his life saved him.
    She glanced over at Aeden, stripped to the waist, his powerful aura undiminished. It was the first night he slept undisturbed since the attack. Applying the molten steel to the deep, ragged gash, no matter how horrific the deed, allowed the wound to knit the moment the infected flesh burned away. And as much as she wanted to fall to pieces, he needed someone to watch over him. If she allowed her defenses to slip and the madmen uncovered their hidey-hole, she would be useless in a fight. No, better to stay alert — at least she’d have a chance to hurt one of them.

Chapter Nine
    Oatcakes.
    If she heaped a handful of dirt and twigs onto the burnt, dry oatcake, she doubted there would be little difference in the taste. A lifetime might pass before she willingly ate another or, dried venison strips and berries for that matter. As she contemplated what to do about the noon meal, a low-pitched whistle floated on the air. Aeden’s head snapped around and she listened in trepidation as the same eerie signal penetrated the forest sounds. She looked over at Aeden to gage his reaction and noticed the tense set of his shoulders relax a fraction. And then to her astonishment, he cupped his hands around his mouth and whistled back.
    All of a sudden, three men appeared at the mouth of the cave. Not thinking clearly, she crawled over to Aeden and used her body as a shield. Aeden’s exasperated sigh fanned the hair at the back of her head.
    Laughter threaded the stranger’s speech when he asked, “What do you intend with that knife?”
    “Come closer and I shall slice you from belly to brow.” Despite her bravado, her voice quavered.
    “A blood thirsty wench, eh, Aeden?”
    “’Tis all right, Elisande, this man is known to me.”
    Aeden’s voice was whisper soft, and a jolt of longing coursed through her body. Still wary, she turned to keep the intruder in her line of vision as she moved off to the side. Aeden’s inscrutable gaze captured her eyes. He was a hard one to read. She had no idea if he was angry with her, or grateful, or both. To her surprise, he reached out, clasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before he let go. No doubt he meant to comfort her, but it only served to awaken a suppressed desire for him. Her