Brendan ignored her, just spread her legs wider and settled himself between them.
“Dear God in heaven,” Priscilla softly intoned, feeling his hands on the inside of her thigh.
“Damned puritan,” he grumbled, easing her embarrassment apparent in every rigid muscle and joint. “I’d enjoy this, if it wasn’t so damned serious.” With that he set his mouth against her leg and began to suck out the venom.
Even as scared as she was, Priscilla felt a jolt of heat slide through her body. Brendan’s hands gripped her thigh and his mouth moved over her flesh, sucking hard again and again. In the eye of her mind, she could see his lips moving over her skin, see his long dark fingers touching the flesh of her upper thigh.
Unconsciously, Priscilla moaned.
“It’s all right, Silla,” he soothed, “I’m just about done.” A few moments later, he pressed his handkerchief against the wound and grabbed the ruffle at the bottom of her petticoat. Tearing off a length of it, he wrapped the material around her thigh and tied the handkerchief in place with several sure tugs.
When he had finished he lowered her skirts, lifted her in his arms, and started back toward the camp.Priscilla clutched his neck to steady herself, and corded muscles bunched beneath her hands.
“What happens now?” she asked, forcing herself not to notice how solid he felt.
“That depends mostly on you. How your body reacts to the poison.” His eyes narrowed with worry and seemed a slightly darker shade of blue. “You shouldn’t have run, Priscilla. It speeds up your heartbeat, makes the poison move faster—damn it, Sill, it’s the worst thing you could have done.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the problem—you don’t know a damned thing about this country. Egan ought to have his head examined for bringing you out here. One way or another, you’re bound and determined to get yourself killed.” He set her down in the shade of an oak tree.
“Brendan?”
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m starting to feel kind of … dizzy.”
The harshness went out of his manner. “Just take it easy. I’m going to make a poultice out of some tobacco. I’ll be right back.”
“Brendan?”
He stopped and turned to face her.
“If anything … happens … I want you to know I appreciate how hard you’ve worked to take care of me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said gruffly, deep lines etching his forehead. “I’m not going to let it.” With that he strode off toward the wagon.
While he rummaged through their supplies, lookingfor God knows what, Priscilla leaned back against the oak, thinking about his words.
She’d been right, of course. His “I told you so”s were even worse than she’d expected. Still, it felt good to hear the protective note in his voice when he’d said them. It felt good to know he cared, and that he was there to help her.
Brendan returned a few moments later. While Priscilla fought her embarrassment, he pulled up her skirts, reached between her thighs, and applied the tobacco poultice, securing it again with the length of petticoat.
“We’ll make camp here,” he said, “until you’re out of danger … speaking of which, I want you out of those clothes.”
“What?”
“You’re bound to run a fever,” he patiently explained. “It’s hotter than Hades out here already.” He turned her around and started to unbutton the back of her dress.
Priscilla pulled away. “I refuse to sit here half naked in front of a stranger.”
Brendan bent over her. “If I’m not mistaken—and I know I’m not—you’re wearing that damnable corset of yours. I want you out of it and that’s the way it’s gonna be. And I’m hardly a stranger.”
Priscilla started to argue, but a wave of nausea swept over her and beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. She wet her suddenly dry lips. “All right. I’ll take off my corset and petticoats, but I’m leaving on my dress.”
Brendan put a hand
“Dear God in heaven,” Priscilla softly intoned, feeling his hands on the inside of her thigh.
“Damned puritan,” he grumbled, easing her embarrassment apparent in every rigid muscle and joint. “I’d enjoy this, if it wasn’t so damned serious.” With that he set his mouth against her leg and began to suck out the venom.
Even as scared as she was, Priscilla felt a jolt of heat slide through her body. Brendan’s hands gripped her thigh and his mouth moved over her flesh, sucking hard again and again. In the eye of her mind, she could see his lips moving over her skin, see his long dark fingers touching the flesh of her upper thigh.
Unconsciously, Priscilla moaned.
“It’s all right, Silla,” he soothed, “I’m just about done.” A few moments later, he pressed his handkerchief against the wound and grabbed the ruffle at the bottom of her petticoat. Tearing off a length of it, he wrapped the material around her thigh and tied the handkerchief in place with several sure tugs.
When he had finished he lowered her skirts, lifted her in his arms, and started back toward the camp.Priscilla clutched his neck to steady herself, and corded muscles bunched beneath her hands.
“What happens now?” she asked, forcing herself not to notice how solid he felt.
“That depends mostly on you. How your body reacts to the poison.” His eyes narrowed with worry and seemed a slightly darker shade of blue. “You shouldn’t have run, Priscilla. It speeds up your heartbeat, makes the poison move faster—damn it, Sill, it’s the worst thing you could have done.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the problem—you don’t know a damned thing about this country. Egan ought to have his head examined for bringing you out here. One way or another, you’re bound and determined to get yourself killed.” He set her down in the shade of an oak tree.
“Brendan?”
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m starting to feel kind of … dizzy.”
The harshness went out of his manner. “Just take it easy. I’m going to make a poultice out of some tobacco. I’ll be right back.”
“Brendan?”
He stopped and turned to face her.
“If anything … happens … I want you to know I appreciate how hard you’ve worked to take care of me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said gruffly, deep lines etching his forehead. “I’m not going to let it.” With that he strode off toward the wagon.
While he rummaged through their supplies, lookingfor God knows what, Priscilla leaned back against the oak, thinking about his words.
She’d been right, of course. His “I told you so”s were even worse than she’d expected. Still, it felt good to hear the protective note in his voice when he’d said them. It felt good to know he cared, and that he was there to help her.
Brendan returned a few moments later. While Priscilla fought her embarrassment, he pulled up her skirts, reached between her thighs, and applied the tobacco poultice, securing it again with the length of petticoat.
“We’ll make camp here,” he said, “until you’re out of danger … speaking of which, I want you out of those clothes.”
“What?”
“You’re bound to run a fever,” he patiently explained. “It’s hotter than Hades out here already.” He turned her around and started to unbutton the back of her dress.
Priscilla pulled away. “I refuse to sit here half naked in front of a stranger.”
Brendan bent over her. “If I’m not mistaken—and I know I’m not—you’re wearing that damnable corset of yours. I want you out of it and that’s the way it’s gonna be. And I’m hardly a stranger.”
Priscilla started to argue, but a wave of nausea swept over her and beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. She wet her suddenly dry lips. “All right. I’ll take off my corset and petticoats, but I’m leaving on my dress.”
Brendan put a hand
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