The Rock by Monica Mccarty Page B

seemed to understand she would not be shooed away. He snapped his mouth closed, gave her a hard glare, and turned away from her to face the wall. From the way his jaw was clenched, she was surprised his teeth weren’t cracking.
    If she didn’t know him better, she might think that he wasn’t just being stubborn but that he really didn’t want her here. But she did know him . . . didn’t she?
    She had to admit this indifferent stranger attitude was slightly disconcerting. He wasn’t just acting like he didn’t know her, he was acting as if he didn’t want to know her.
    Lady Helen handed her the strip of cloth and showed her how to wrap it around his shoulder and then around his ribs to secure it. Despite what she’d said about touching him before, Thommy wasn’t the only one who jumped when she pressed the strip of linen to his skin. She felt like she’d been buzzed with lightning.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, recovering from the shock. “Did I hurt you?”
    He mumbled nay, something that sounded like a curse, and gruffly told her to hurry up and finish.
    Now, that sounded like Thommy. She muttered something back about rude, grumpy, overgrown little boys who were too proud and muleheaded to admit they were hurt.
    With Helen’s help, it didn’t take long to wrap the linen around the injured shoulder. Satisfied, Helen told Thommy he could put on his shirt, which due to the loose cut, he was able to do on his own—despite not being able to lift his right arm more than a few inches. Elizabeth suspected that keeping him from lifting was the reason for the binding. Donning his leather surcoat was a bit more difficult, but he managed with Helen’s help.
    Without looking at Elizabeth, he thanked Helen, grabbed his plaid and weapons, and started for the door.
    Elizabeth exchanged a surprised glance with Helen and went after him. “Thommy, wait! I wanted to—”
    Talk to you . But her words were cut off by the sound of a door closing.
    Elizabeth blinked, almost as if she couldn’t believe he’d just slammed the door on her.
    After a hastily muttered apology to Helen (although why she was apologizing for his rudeness, she didn’t know), she went after him. Actually, as he was walking so fast, she had to run after him.
    “Thommy!” Her voice grew louder. “Thommy, wait!”
    There were a number of people milling about the yard who turned to look at her. Unfortunately, Thommy wasn’t one of them. He didn’t stop walking until she came up next to him, grabbed his arm, and forced him to acknowledge her. They were a few feet away from what she suspected was the barracks, and the torches near the door provided enough light to see his face. “Good gracious, Thommy, I asked you to wait. Did you not hear me?”
    “I heard you fine—the English on the other side of the border probably heard you fine—but I did not hear a question.”
    She frowned. “You did not give me a chance. I was going to ask to speak with you.”
    “No, thank you,” he said in the same overly polite tone he’d used earlier. He started to move away. Would have moved away if she hadn’t stepped around to block him. Or tried to block him, but as soon as their bodies came into contact, she realized the futility of that. It was like running into a stone wall. Actually, it was like having a stone wall run into her. He was forced to catch her to prevent her from falling on her backside.
    He set her on her feet and let her go about as quickly as a burning pot. “Bloody hell, Elizabeth, do you ever look before you step? I’ve never known someone to have such a difficult time staying upright.”
    It sounded so much like something he would have said years ago that she grinned back at him. “I tie my boots together, remember?”
    It was what he’d always teasingly accused her of doing to explain her frequent stumbles as a girl. She didn’t stumble so often anymore, although the last time she had, it was the first time he hadn’t been there to