Page 28 of Glasgow Rogue

Normally his pride would have made him refuse to look weak, but at the moment he wasn’t in a position to argue.

The air was turning chill, which wouldn’t help his fever, and he had no idea if the wound had already begun to fester.

He nodded silently. At Annie’s surprised look that he didn’t argue, he knew he was in worse shape than he thought.

That he’d passed out was a sign of fatigue. At least, he hoped it was only that.

“I need to take the saddlebag in.”

“I’ll come back for it,” Annie said. “And I’ll fetch water.”

“Nae need.” He pointed with his free hand. “’Tis water in the bucket.” At least he wasn’t completely useless this evening.

They limped around toward the door. Niall was trying to be careful not to put too much weight on Annie’s shoulders, but each step was becoming increasingly harder.

He didn’t think he’d ever been so glad to see the inside of a room.

Annie pulled one of the chairs close to the fire and he sank gratefully onto it.

She moved the other one for him to prop his leg up and then looked at the stained breeches. She hesitated, her expression speculative. “I…I am going to need to look at the wound.”

Niall thought she blushed, but it could have been the heat from the flames in the hearth.

The thought of her unlacing his breeches to expose his thigh sent warmth through his body that didn’t have anything to do with his fever.

Slowly, he placed a hand on the waistband, his eyes not leaving her face. “These will need to be removed.”

This time she did blush. “I ken that.” Annie went over to the pile of blankets and brought one back to hand to him. “Ye can undress beneath this. I will go get the water.” She didn’t wait for him to answer as she rushed to the door.

“I’ve got my kilt in the saddlebag,” he called after her, not sure that she heard. “And whisky.”

By the time she returned, he’d completed the painful process of removing the breeches. Dried blood had made the fabric stick to his skin and pulling it off had caused the wound to bleed again. Annie’s eyes widened as she saw the fresh blood. Setting down the saddlebags and bucket, she hurried over.

“Ye need stitching.”

“’Tis nae that serious.” The gash was deeper than Niall wanted to admit, but there was no point in worrying Annie when there was no needle and thread to be had. “A tight binding will do.”

She looked doubtful. “I will heat some water, then, to clean it first.”

Niall shook his head. “I will lose more blood waiting for the water. Just hand me the whisky.”

“Aye.” Annie opened the saddle bag and pulled out the bottle. “Ye could probably use a drink.”

“I could, but ’tis nae what I had in mind.” Niall pulled the stopper and poured the alcohol into the wound, clenching his teeth to keep from cursing when it stung. He picked up his breeches to tear at a leg. “This will have to do as a bandage.”

“Wait,” Annie said. “I can do better than that.” She pulled the tails of her shirt out. “Linen makes a tighter binding.” She tried to rip the bottom, then frowned. “Damnation.” She looked quickly at him. “Sorry.”

“Nae need to apologize, lass.”

“The blasted thing will nae tear.” Annie looked at his wound again and quickly removed her coat, then began unlacing the shirt. She glanced at him. “Close your eyes.”

He obeyed, although it took every bit of his willpower, especially when he heard rustling and knew she would be bare to him if he looked. And, despite his condition, he wanted to look. To see those luscious breasts unfettered… Niall raised the whisky bottle to his mouth and took a long swig.

“Ye can open your eyes.”

He did, hoping against reason she would still be half-naked, but she had the coat on and buttoned. Niall took another swallow of whisky.

Annie had managed to tear out one of the sleeves and she leaned over him now, placing a hand on either side of his thigh to push and hold the edges of his wound together. “Ye need to begin wrapping”

He did, all the time aware of the scent of her skin wafting up to him.

The man’s jacket she wore was too big and gaped, allowing him to see the cleavage of her breasts.

Hellfire, but he wanted to see the whole of them.

Cup the creamy, lush rounds in his palms. He was probably near delusion to even be considering such thoughts. He tried to bite back a moan.

Annie took the strip of linen with which he’d done one successful wrap around his thigh, and she continued the job. “I ken it hurts.”

What was really hurting right now was a part of him that he hoped she wouldn’t notice as it grew under the blanket he’d draped over himself.

It wasn’t helping his situation that her hands were dangerously close to it.

That unruly head wasn’t acting any better than the one he was trying to think with.

It wanted touching. To feel her soft hand on him, her cool fingers stroking him…

Niall bit back another moan and lifted the bottle again.

Annie looked up as she finished wrapping and tucked the end of the strip inside the top binding. “Ye are looking very flushed. Are ye sure ye should be drinking so much?”

The reason his face was hot had nothing to do with the whisky, but he could hardly tell her that.

Not that he was in any condition to act on his lecherous thoughts, but he doubted Annie would welcome knowing about them.

The lady had been nearly killed this morning and she was counting on him to get her to safety.

For that matter, to keep her safe tonight as well.

He couldn’t do that if he were drunk. Niall put the bottle down. “Ye are right.”

“Good. Then ye have left enough for me.” Annie picked up the bottle. “I will see to supper in a minute, but first I need a wee bit of fortification.”

Niall raised an eyebrow as he watched Annie take a long swallow. When she didn’t choke on it, he managed a grin in spite of the pain. Annie Ferguson was quite a woman.