As she got closer to the back of the shed, the groaning grew louder, and she almost lost her nerve but kept going. When she finally spotted the groaning figure lying on the floor of the drying shed, she recoiled slightly and held up the stick, prepared to defend herself. But the man didn’t move, not even when she quickly stepped up and nudged him with her foot then jumped back.
He just groaned and rolled over on his back, one arm over his head, the other cradled to his chest. She poked him with the stick again, just to be sure, then knelt next to him and looked him over. The arm he held cradled to his chest was wrapped in a filthy rag she finally recognized as the missing part of the shirt he wore, and he was covered in filth and blood. A stench rose from him that made her gag, forcing her to stand up and take a few deep breaths of fresh air.
There was no way to tell how badly he was hurt, but he had managed to get himself this far. The question was, what to do with the man now. She only had two options: clean him up and take care of him herself or call the guards. She didn’t like either choice. The last thing she needed in her life right then was a complication, and the man lying on the floor was definitely a complication.
Calling the guards would only make them more aware of her, and that wasn’t something she wanted. The less they noticed her up here away from town, the better. All she needed was snoopy guards discovering the little treasure she’d built here. Her taxes and protection fees were already high enough; someone might decide that she owed a little more.
So, that left her with only one choice: become nursemaid to a stranger, a man who looked like he’d been in some trouble. It was going to be no small feat to get him cleaned up and into the house, but she couldn’t leave him here, and he wasn’t coming in the house the way he was. Then she remembered the big tub in the cleaning room next door and began the slow task of dragging him through the drying house.
Chapter Six
***Colin***
Colin opened his eyes to bright sunlight streaming into the room, but it wasn’t a room he recognized, so he closed his eyes again. He lay there trying to remember how he’d gotten there, but his head began to pound, and soon he was clutching the bedcovers in pain. Under the pounding in his head, he felt his arm throbbing hotly as if it were being held over a flame and risked opening his eyes to see if it was on fire.
The knife wound had healed, but it was pulsing with a faint red glow that made him feel nauseous, and he looked away, concentrating instead on the room that he was in. Ignoring the pounding in his head, he looked around, noticing that the room had a masculine feel to it. The dark blue bedspread and curtains looked new, but the furniture was well used, scarred and discolored from time’s passing.
He tried again to find some memory of what had brought him here, but his head began to pound again, so he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. As he lay there waiting for the pain to pass, he became aware of voices outside the room. Just murmurs at first, they grew louder, and he soon heard the sound of footsteps, so he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
“Eli, I’m telling you that in his condition, he’s no danger to me,” a woman’s voice said. “Look for yourself; he’s still asleep.”
There was silence for a second, then he heard a man say, “I still don’t like it, Darby. We have no idea who he is or where he came from, and he’s hurt. How did that happen?”
“I’m sure he can answer all those questions when he’s better,” the woman said. “You’ve been bugging me to work at the store for months now; this is your chance.”
“I still don’t like it,” the man said.
“It’s only for the morning. Fiona can handle the restocking,” the woman said. “Please, Eli, I don’t want to have to call the guards.”
“Okay, but I’ll be back before lunch to check on you,” the man said.
He heard a single set of footsteps go back down the hallway, then quieter steps come into the room and cross over to the window. His eyes still closed, he lay there trying to decide what to do when the room began to fill with the most wonderful scent, and for a second, his senses went crazy. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, a combination of comfort and desire that left his heart pounding and his blood pumping.
Unable to stop himself, he opened his eyes, desperate to find the source of the confusing smell, and found a young woman looking at him. He couldn’t tell how old she was, especially not dressed the way she was in men’s pajamas that must have been three sizes too big for her. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid that fell over her shoulder to her waist, her skin tanned to a golden brown, but it was her eyes that got him.
Full of far more knowledge than they should have been for someone who looked so young, they studied him, taking in every inch of his face. “You look better this morning, but you still look feverish,” she said, crossing over to the bed. “I’m Darby; you were in my drying shed.”
Colin’s heart was going crazy in his chest as she got closer, and when she reached out with the back of her hand to check his fever, desire flared to life inside him. Almost immediately, his head began to pound again, and a sweat broke out on his forehead. “What’s wrong with me?” he managed to croak.
Darby dipped a rag into a bowl of water on the table by the bed, then put it on his forehead. “It looks like you tangled with some pretty bad men. That cut on your arm is full of black magic; it’s never going to heal on its own.”
“But magic isn’t allowed in Ballentine; it’s against the law,” he stammered, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.
“Just because it’s against the law doesn’t mean it’s not out there,” she said gently. “Do you want to go to the hospital, or do you want me to try to fix it?”
Colin could only stare at her. “How do you plan to do that?” he finally asked, afraid to hope.
“I’d rather not say,” Darby replied. “In fact, it’s better if you don’t know.”
Her answer told him everything he needed to know, and he wasn’t sure if he was scared, shocked, or curious. He closed his eyes, the pain in his arm beginning to build again. “Do what you have to do. I’ll just lay here with my eyes closed.”
He felt her pat his shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I need a few things before I get started.”
A few minutes later, she was back, carrying a tray of scary-looking instruments, and he wished he’d kept his eyes closed. She smiled down at him. “Don’t worry: it looks worse than it is,” she said.
Her smile calmed him, and he closed his eyes again. “I don’t know why, but I think I can trust you,” he said.
“Maybe that’s because I didn’t let you die out there in my drying shed last night,” she said.
He grinned but didn’t open his eyes. Well, there is that,” he said, then winced when he felt a cold blade against his skin.
“I’m not going to lie to you; this is going to hurt a lot,” she said just as searing pain radiated up his arm.
Gasping, he tried to fight the pain, sucking in huge breaths of air, until his head began to swim. He was only vaguely aware that Darby had begun chanting under her breath, words he couldn’t understand but touched him someplace deep inside, calming him and taking away the pain.