Only 06 - Winter Fire

awake.
    Sarah was sitting within arm’s reach. Her hands moved in deft, soothing rhythms as she spun yarn from a pile of black wool. Her hair fell over her shoulders in silky, cinnamon waves that cried out to be stroked by a man’s hand. Her eyes reflected the luminous gold of lantern light.
    She was watching him.
    â€œHow do you feel?” she asked softly.
    â€œDumb.”
    She didn’t ask why. She was afraid she already knew.
    The kiss.
    Even the memory of that sweet, searing caress was enough to make her fingers tremble.
    â€œNo need to berate yourself,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re not the first man to get shot.”
    Or the first one to kiss a girl , Case thought.
    Well, at least she’s a widow. She won’t mistake a man’s hunger for a promise of now and ever after .
    â€œHow bad is it?” he asked.
    â€œYour wounds?”
    He nodded.
    â€œOne bullet went between the inside of your right arm and your chest.”
    As she spoke, she bent over and touched his right shoulder gently.
    â€œYou were shot twice in the right thigh,” she continued.
    â€œInfection?” he asked, his voice emotionless.
    She set aside her spinning. “You can see for yourself. It’s time to change the dressings.”
    He watched intently while she went about the simple tasks of gathering clean rags, warm water, and a jar of something pungent he couldn’t identify.
    â€œDo you want anything for pain?” Sarah asked. “Ute has some homemade whiskey that—”
    â€œNo,” Case said. “I want a clear head.”
    She wasn’t surprised. Though pale, obviously in pain, and not able to stand, he had an animal alertness that was unmistakable.
    He was a man used to living with danger.
    Ute had been the same way when he first came to Lost River ranch.
    Often, he still was.
    â€œHow did I end up here?” Case asked.
    â€œUte found you.”
    Calmly she peeled the bedcovers down to his waist. As she bent forward and began unwrapping the bandage on his arm, her hair slid in a soft cascade across his chest.
    Cool, yet it burned him like naked flame. His breath hissed in and his heartbeat doubled.
    â€œSorry,” Sarah said, lifting her hands instantly. “Are you sure you don’t want something for the pain?”
    â€œYes,” he said through set teeth.
    Her eyelids flinched but she said nothing. She simply got on with the task of unwrapping the rest of the bandage on his arm. Delicately her fingertips brushed the area around the furrow left by the bullet.
    Again his breath hissed in.
    She frowned. “Is it that tender?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you certain?”
    â€œYes,” he said, jaw clenched.
    She gave him a wary look. Then she went back to her tender tracing of the skin around the shallow wound.
    This time Case didn’t make a sound, despite the heatin his blood that had been summoned by a simple, impersonal touch.
    Never should have kissed her , he told himself savagely. Dumb. I haven’t wanted a woman like this since …
    His thoughts scattered.
    He hadn’t ever wanted a woman the way he wanted Sarah Kennedy.
    For a few more seconds the gentle, delicious torment of her touch continued. Then she withdrew.
    â€œThe skin around the wound is cool,” she said. “No infection, but you’ll have a scar.”
    â€œIt won’t be the first.”
    â€œOr the last,” she said, thinking of the wounds on his thigh. “Since you’re awake now, I won’t wrap your arm again. It will heal faster in the air.”
    Case watched her face while she pulled the blankets up over his bare chest. Then she shocked him by flipping the covers off his legs all the way to his navel.
    â€œJudas priest!”
    One-handed, he raked the covers back over himself.
    Sarah was too surprised to stop him.
    â€œSis?” Conner called drowsily.
    â€œGo back to sleep,” she said. “It’s just Case thrashing around.”
    â€œYou need me to hold him while you change the bandages again?”
    She raised her cinnamon eyebrows at Case in silent question.
    â€œDo I?” she mouthed.
    His eyes widened. He had just figured out that there wasn’t one inch of him that Sarah Kennedy hadn’t already seen.
    Dead naked.
    Red burned on his cheekbones above his weeks’-old beard. He took his hands away from the covers.
    â€œI can handle it, Conner,” Sarah