Alaura covered Bronwyn with a blanket and watched sleep consume his body. The soup would force him to relax and rejuvenate. She’d make another pot for herself without the slumber-inducing dandelion leaves, but first she had to wash the blood and dirt from his clothing. She heard him mumble as she turned to leave.
“Alaura of Niamh, you’re the woman in my dreams.”
She kissed his forehead then caressed his cheek, wishing on wishes never to come true with the man in her dreams. Pulling away, she set to work completing her tasks before she also crawled beneath the blanket.
With the moon high overhead, she settled behind him. Her fingers danced in the air, and she spoke the words to create the Cloaking Spell. They could rest safely beneath its veil, protected from attacking animals and other night creatures.
Alaura gazed upon the man who lay beside her. She shuddered remembering she had almost lost him. But now, safe within her protection and under her care, he would heal.
She had mended many others under Beathas’ teachings. With those patients, she had kept her emotions in check. Bronwyn was different. Panic had claimed her when she found him hanging from the tree as if dead. It took all her will to snap out of the shock and act accordingly. Once she realised he still lived, her nerves settled. She took control of the situation and saw he yielded to her demands. She disliked being stern with him, but knew she couldn’t keep her true feelings hidden any other way. Nevertheless, he was a man who needed strict care from a woman who felt passionately for him and who endeavoured only to heal his broken body.
She ran a finger along his shoulder and down his arm. She leant forward and kissed his neck then snuggled into his back and savoured his warmth. Her cheek pressed against the dirt and sweat on his skin. Although his strong odour needed dousing, his familiar scent pleased her. She slid her hand to his belly and pulled herself nearer. He’d never know she lay here like this, so close, embraced as lovers. She felt safe knowing she’d not have to explain herself for seeking such pleasures.
Alaura had never lain with a man in such a manner, and she enjoyed every beat of his heart pulsating against her chest. He slept deeply enough to gather three nights of healing from this one. As she listened to his steady breathing, she thought again of finding him chained to the tree. If she hadn’t smelt the odd odour drift in on the breeze as she set up camp, she might not have investigated. She shivered when she thought about the consequences if she had ignored her instinct. By morning Bronwyn would have been dead.
She slid her hand higher and felt the bulk of his chest. He was a strong and powerful man, yet she had never feared him. When she had slapped him in anger many years ago, she knew he’d never strike her. If only he did not serve as a guard with Aruam Castle, or at least not be so honourable, things may be different. If she was a free woman...
It made no sense to fantasize about a life she could never have with the man of her dreams—it only made her duty more painful.