Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) by Michelle Willingham Page A

chest. “It’s no’ necessary.”
    “If you don’t want the salve, I can be on my way,” Mr. Snow offered, holding up the container. He looked as if he didn’t want to get involved in their quarrel.
    “We do,” she answered.
    “He’s no’ touching me,” Cain snapped. “Leave it be, Margaret.”
    She glared at him, for this wasn’t his decision to make. “I’ll take the salve and apply it myself. We’re also in need of food and supplies for the rest of our journey,” she told the apothecary. “Bring us enough to last another week, and you may have this ring.”
    The man agreed, hurrying out while Cain turned to her. “We don’t need those things, lass.”
    “We have no food left,” she reminded him, leading him inside the barn. “And I, for one, am quite hungry.” She suspected half of his ill temper was due to a growling stomach. A good meal would help both of them. “Now take your shirt off, so I can put your medicine on.”
    “What makes you think I’ll do what you say, lass?” His voice held a tangible threat, but she ignored it and unpinned the plaid, pushing it off before she unfastened the top button of his shirt. The moment she touched him, his eyes flared with heat.
    Standing this close, she was aware of his male scent and how easily he could overpower her. Her finger passed over his bare chest and she tugged at the linen to lift it over his head.
    Though she had seen him without his shirt before, it suddenly struck her that this was not a man accustomed to being ordered around. He rested his hands upon her shoulders, one hand curling around her neck. Gooseflesh rose over her skin, and she suddenly remembered what it was to lie beside this man, to feel his warm breath against her throat.
    She broke free of him and opened the jar of salve. “Sit down, please.” Her voice quavered, and she wanted to curse herself for it.
    Instead, he caught her waist and leaned down until his mouth was a breath away from hers. “If I let you do this, I’m claiming a boon of my own.”
    “This is for your own good,” she protested. “I don’t want you to suffer.”
    “You’re being verra demanding.” He rested his forehead against hers.
    “I’ll be gentle,” she promised. She didn’t ask what boon he wanted, for she suspected it was a kiss. And although everything within her warned that this was a bad idea, she knew the pain he was enduring.
    Margaret took a deep breath, while he sat down. She smeared her hand within the ointment and detected an herbal aroma. Cain’s back was still raw and inflamed, and she began on the edges where the burns weren’t quite as bad. He flinched the moment she touched him but said nothing.
    “Mr. Snow told me that no one passed through this village in the past few weeks. Amelia wasn’t here at all.” She smoothed more of the ointment across his back, trying not to hurt him as she did.
    “I thought as much.” Cain let out a hiss when she touched another tender area.
    “I’ll try to hurry up,” Margaret said. “I know it stings.”
    “I’ll be smelling like a garden,” he complained. “And it’s going to get all over my shirt.”
    “Does it feel any better?” she asked, dipping her hand back into the salve.
    “I’m no’ certain it’s worth the price you paid,” he said. “You could have kissed me to make it better.”
    “I cannot say as I have any desire to touch my lips to your back,” she admitted. It would take a few more weeks, months even, for it to fully heal.
    “I wasna talking about my back, lass. If you kissed my mouth like you did earlier, I’d be forgetting all about any pain.”
    She gave no reply and finished applying the salve, covering up the jar once more. “There. I think that should help.”
    Cain took her hand and led her to stand before him. “Thank you, lass.” He held her hands lightly, but she didn’t pull away. A moment later, Mr. Snow returned. Upon one arm, he held a basket.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, I’ve