Coulter, Catherine. Rosehaven / Catherine Coulter.

There were only six stitches. They weren’t badly done, but that damned black thread looked obscene against her white flesh. There was a lot more white flesh on her flat belly. His breathing hitched. He hadn’t forgotten. He supposed he’d only suspended his memory of the way her flesh warmed when he touched her, the smoothness of her, the way her muscles tightened when he had caressed her with his mouth. He shuddered.

“When can the stitches be cut out?” His voice sounded odd, as if he were in pain.

“In two or three days. What is wrong with you, Severin?”

“Nothing really, but you are naked and I am trying to concentrate on your wound. Perhaps it is a bit difficult, Hastings.”

“Try.”

“The flesh is healthy-looking. Have you any medicine for me to rub on it?”

“Aye, over there, atop the chest. The small jar on the left.”

He lifted the lid and sniffed it. “What is it?”

“That is Saint-John’s-wort mixed with different salves into a cream. The Healer gave it to me. I have been rubbing the wound with it since we returned to Oxborough. The Healer said it would prevent scarring. It also makes my skin very soft.”

“Your skin was already soft. Why did you not ask me to do it for you?”

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“I don’t want to lie here naked, Severin. You might forget the black thread in my side.”

He grunted at that.

“I wouldn’t be able to fight you for fear of tearing the wound open.”

“You mean you would lie there like a sacrifice and not try to kick me loose from my manhood?”

“I would have to.”

He said nothing to that. He watched her close her eyes when he touched her with the cool, white cream. He felt her ease, for his touch was light.

“I hate to see the thread in your body. It brings back that night.”

At last he was preparing to yell at her. How long could a man keep his bile swallowed, particularly a man of Severin’s passions? “You will now tell me that I am a fool and threaten me and-”

“Hush.” He was thorough, she would give him that. More than thorough. She had never stroked her own fingers over the wound to such pleasant effect.

“I do not need a bandage.”

His fingers stilled. “You are certain?”

“Aye, I looked at the wound this morning.”

He flattened his palm over her belly. His hand was large, nearly spanning her. H*e said mildly, “If I threatened to beat you now, you would not believe me.”

“No. You would do nothing to harm your babe.”

He cursed. She said nothing, just looked at him. He was still staring down at her. She didn’t like this at all. She was naked and he was touch-

ing her and looking at her and she knew that she should draw away from him, but she didn’t.

Trist was lying flat on her chest. Surely Trist was heavy enough to hold her down for a few moments longer.

Severin raised his hand and pulled down her clothes. He lay a blanket over her, pulling it to her waist. He said nothing. There was a line of sweat on his brow.

9 ^ S

Ever since their return he had held his temper, coming to the bedchamber to see her every day, sometimes taking his dinner with her. But he did not sleep with her at night.

Not once had he yelled at her for fleeing Oxborough. Not once had he even growled or looked mean. Not once had he threatened to strangle her.

Why hadn’t he at least yelled at her? Why hadn’t he even spoken of it to her? It had been seven very long days and nights. Not a word remotely irate had spewed from his mouth. The good Lord knew that Dame Agnes, Gwent, and Beamis had all burned her ears, but Severin hadn’t said a single thing. Neither had the pulse pounded in his neck nor had his face turned red.

It was driving her mad. She couldn’t stand it another minute.

“I was just traveling to Rosehaven,” she blurted out when he continued silent. “Beamis wouldn’t take me because he was afraid you would kill him. I promised him you wouldn’t really kill him, that you were just and fair, and perhaps you would pound him just a bit, but he still wouldn’t do it. I do know that this Rosehaven is near to Canterbury. I would have found it. Did you not see that I was dressed like a boy? I looked like a boy. Even you would not have recognized me, Severin. I was safe enough. Well, there was obviously one problem and that was Marella. Those men wanted her, not me.”

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