Seduction of a Highland Lass by Maya Banks Page A

looked tired. Worn through. She’d been diligent in her care of him.
    He was still ailing. He wasn’t even close to feeling himself no matter what he’d told his brothers, but from this moment on, he was going to take care of Keeley and make sure she had the rest she needed.
    Keeley eyed his brothers with irritation, which amused Alaric. She stepped around them and didn’t spare them another glance as she walked over to Alaric’s bedside.
    “I have broth and some ale. I wanted water, but Gertie insisted that a braw man should drink ale if he wants to regain his strength.”
    “Gertie has the right of it. Good stout ale will cure damn near anything.”
    Keeley wrinkled her nose but didn’t argue. “Can you sit up?”
    Alaric glanced down, then gingerly planted his elbow in the mattress to give himself a shove upward.
    Agony lanced up his side, stealing his breath. He froze, panting softly as a red haze settled over his vision.
    Keeley made a sound of alarm and then suddenly she was there. Surrounding him with her arms and her softness. Some of the vicious pain subsided and he drew in steadying breaths as he leaned into her.
    She jerked several pillows behind him, then eased him back until he was propped against the wall. “Slowly, warrior. I know it hurts.”
    He lay there panting, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Nausea welled in his belly and it was all he could do not to lean over and heave. Jesu, but that little cut in his side hurt like the devil.
    He started to protest when she moved away, but before he could open his mouth, she was back, trencher and ale in hand. She gave him the goblet and then slid onto the bed beside him, her curvy body nestling against his side.
    “Sip slowly until your stomach has settled,” she murmured.
    How she knew he was on the verge of retching his guts up he didn’t know, but he made sure to follow her advice and took wary sips of the strong brew.
    After a few swallows, he grimaced and set the goblet away. “I think you had the right of it, Keeley. I think plain water would be easier on my stomach. ’Tis the truth the ale seems to sour it all the more.”
    “Here,” she said in a gentle voice. “Sip at the broth from the trencher. See if that does the trick. I’ll go down and fetch some water for you in a moment.”
    “Nay, don’t move.” He threw back his head and bellowed Gannon’s name.
    Keeley jumped beside him and drew in her breath.
    “Sorry, lass,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
    They had only a moment to wait before the door burst open and Gannon stuck his head in. Keeley shot him a bemused look and Alaric chuckled.
    “ ’Tis his duty to remain outside my chamber in case I have need of anything. I knew he wouldn’t be far.”
    “Was this merely a test?” Gannon grumbled.
    “Nay, I require water and didn’t want Keeley to have to fetch it herself. She’s tired and has galloped up the stairs more than enough already.”
    “I’ll return in a moment,” Gannon said as he withdrew.
    “Think you that you can down some of the broth now? If you’re finished bellowing at your men?”
    Alaric grinned at the sour note in her voice. “I might have need of you to help me. I’m feeling rather weak.”
    Keeley rolled her eyes, but she turned into him, balancing the trencher in her palm as she guided it to his mouth. “Sip at it,” she directed. “Not too fast. Let it settle in your stomach before you take more.”
    Alaric sucked some of the liquid into his mouth and savored the soothing warmth as it slipped down his throat. More than the comfort of the broth, Keeley’s tender regard brushed over his senses and soothed the incessant ache at his side.
    Her knuckles grazed his lips as she maneuvered to get closer to him. She knelt up and leaned over, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage. The delectable mounds peeked above the neckline of her smock, and his gaze was riveted. He held his breath, waiting to see if the dress would move