He caught her up in his arms to cradle her against him and his voice was oddly thick. "You’ve been strong enough, sweet lass. Now ‘tis time to rest."
The blonde head rested against his chest just below his chin and her blood stained his skin and vest. As he held her, blood dripped off the fingers of her injured arm to plop onto the floor. She was silent, allowing herself to relax.
As soon as the platform lift stopped on the second floor, Red and Jase got off and headed for the control cabin.
"We’re getting out of this bloody place!" Red snapped.
~ * ~
Laying Dana down on the bunk, Garret smoothed the crimson stained hair back from her battered and bruised face.
Her eyes fluttered open to regard him. "I look that bad, trader?"
His heart contracted. "You’ll always look beautiful to me."
"Obviously I do look that bad." She closed her eyes again.
"Cam’s getting the medipack, lass. Let’s see what I can clean up in the meantime."
Going to the bathroom, he wet a face washer and returned to sit beside her on the bunk. For a second he didn’t know where to start, for blood covered her arm, chest, and the side of her head. Finally, he dabbed gingerly at the gash on her temple, trying to clean the encrusted dirt away. With dismay, he noted the dirt mixed deep in the wound.
"What’s the hesitation?" Dana opened her eyes.
"I’m trying to clean the dirt away."
Lifting her head, she gazed down at her injuries and groaned silently. It would take forever to sponge the dirt away. There was only one thing for it. She started to raise herself onto one elbow.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
"There’s too much dirt caked in to be sponged. It needs running water."
"I’ll manage, lass." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Lie back down."
"We’ve been through this in the past, haven’t we? Remember our other battles? Whenever my sister warriors and I are injured, if dirt was deeply caked in, we showered with strong soap to cleanse the poisons from our skin and wash the dirt away. I need to do that now."
"Hell, Dana, surely not now?"
"Sponging will only drive the poison and bacteria in further. Running water and soap will cleanse it. You know I’m right."
Damn it.
"Garret?"
He heaved a sigh. "Very well. But I’m carrying you into the bathroom."
"I accept, but you’re not staying in there with me."
"What if you faint?"
"I’ll call out, I’m no fool. Now let’s get this done."
Carefully he carried her into the bathroom and set her on her feet in the shower cubicle.
Worriedly, he hovered just outside the door, listening for the sound of her clothes slithering to the floor, the spurt of water and her hiss of pain.
"Lass, are you all right?"
"Fine. Just fine."
The water and soap bloody hurt. She gritted her teeth, allowing the spray to cascade over her wounds, washing the dirt and blood down the drain. Soaping and rinsing over and over, her head swam dizzily. Not that she’d tell Garret that, or he’d be in there, her naked or not. Finally she turned off the water and wrapped the towel around herself, dabbing gingerly at the gashes. Feeling more than a little lightheaded, she left the bathroom.
Garret saw her and carefully lifted her up to place her on the bunk. Seeing her pale face, he frowned.
"Don’t," she said wearily. "Right now, I just couldn’t take your scoldings, warnings and ‘I-told-you-so’s.’"
"None of that, lass. I just want to get these wounds seen to and you resting." His smile was gentle. "The scoldings will come later."
"I can’t wait." More than relieved to be lying back down, she closed her eyes.
Quickly and efficiently, he started to tend her many wounds. Through it all she kept silent, studying him from beneath lowered lashes, keeping her mind off the pain.
Grey eyes were intent on her wounds. For a man he had long lashes, yet it didn’t detract from his masculinity. His jaw was firmly set, his normally smiling lips compressed in concentration.
Her gaze drifted lower, over the strong throat to his chest, and the dip and swell of hard muscle showing beneath the open front of his vest. The flexing and bunching of the muscles in his arms mimicked the movements of the big hands ministering to her arm. Long fingers with clean short nails traced ointment on the claw marks, and smoothed the self-adhesive patches securely over her wounds.
Turning his attention to the wound on her temple, Garret caught her studying him intently.
Blushing slightly, she refused look away. "The wounds aren’t deep enough to stitch?"
"They bleed worse than they are, lass."
Secretly she was relieved. Her head was thumping now, and her chest and arm throbbed. The pain of being stitched was something she could do without right now.
"How does this feel?" Gently he touched her temple.
"It aches a little."
His gaze locked with hers, a small smile curving his lips. "A little?"
"A little."
"You’re fortunate in that it doesn’t need stitching, either." He applied antiseptic and a small patch, then carefully took her injured palm in his hand.
A shiver of warmth went straight up her arm from his palm.
"Can you move your fingers?" He watched closely while she gingerly wiggled them. "I don’t think anything is broken but ‘tis badly bruised. I’ll bandage it for support, and to ensure you don’t use it straight away."
"Such faith in me."
"I know you well enough, lass."
Once finished with her hand, he took a bandage from the medipack and shifted down the bunk until he was level with her foot. Sliding one hand beneath her calf, he raised her leg and rested it upon his lap so that he could study the swollen ankle.
The hardness of his thighs wasn’t lost on her and was, in fact, quite disturbing to her senses. Ridiculous. Her brains must be more rattled than she realized from the mutant’s blows.
Garret wrapped the bandage firmly, but not tightly, around the swollen ankle. "‘Tis a bad sprain but not broken, luckily for you."
"You’re very adept at this."
"Plenty of practice." He tied off the bandage.
Moving up the bunk, he leaned forward to gently brush his thumb along her soft, bottom lip.
She winced.
"Your lip will be sore for a day or two, but it’ll heal. Apart from bruises and grazes, lass, the worst of your wounds are attended to."
"Thanks."
His eyes were warm, meeting hers squarely. Warm and concerned and...something else. Tender. A flash of answering warmth swept through Dana, and flustered, she dropped her gaze to the firm jaw.
Noting the shadows beneath her eyes and the fatigue in the pale face, Garret wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and hold her tight. Instead, he kept his mind on seeing to her well-being.
"How do you feel now? Is there anywhere else bleeding?"
"No. I feel like hell, but I’ll be fine after a rest."
He stood up to leave. "Aye, that you will, lass. I’ll leave you to sleep and--" He stopped, frowning down at the bunk.
She was startled when he slid his arms beneath her and lifted her up gently. "What’s wrong?"
"Easy, lass. I just noticed that your bunk is wet from your shower. You can’t sleep in that."
"I’ll change the covers--where are you taking me?"
Striding from the cabin, he headed down the corridor. The answer dawned on her.
Nudging the door of his cabin open with his boot, he entered and lay her down on his bunk.
She started to protest.
"Nay." Garret held up his hand. "You’ll sleep in here for now, lass."
His clean male scent drifted up to her from the covers, comforting and warm. She found herself subsiding onto the pillow without further protests, suddenly weary, and wanting only to rest. Surrounded by
his scent. Safe.
Shaking open the cover lying folded on the end of the bunk, Garret draped it over her, and tucked it gently beneath her chin. "Rest well, sweet lass."
Already her eyes were closing as she mumbled, "Where will you sleep?"
His smile was tenderly crooked. "Never you mind, lass." Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her brow.
Exhausted, she finally gave in to her abused body’s demand to seek the healing power of sleep.
By the time Garret reached the door, she was fast asleep, snug and safe in his bunk.
~ * ~
Out in the corridor, he met Simon. "How goes Rominac?"
"He’s in the dining cabin, waiting to talk to you."
"Good. I’m curious to meet this brother of Dana’s."
When they entered, he saw that he wasn’t the only curious one, for his friends were already there talking to the Northlander.
Before he could say anything, Red asked, "How’s the lass?"
"Asleep." He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired as the tension filling him slowly drained away.
"Her injuries?" Jase queried.
He sat at the table. "She’s lost a lot of blood, has some nasty cuts, a badly bruised hand and a severely wrenched ankle. She won’t be doing any fighting for a while." Seeing their concern, he added, "The lass just needs to rest. She’ll be fine."
Relieved, the traders nodded.
Red placed a mug of strong una before him. "I’ve set the course for Northland, all right?"
"Excellent." Taking several mouthfuls of una, he savored the taste with relish. "I needed that!"
"The woman’s name is Dana?" Rominac spoke up from where he sat opposite. Immediately all attention focused on him.
For several minutes Garret studied him, noting that at first glance the dark-haired, slender young man looked like his father. But a second glance brought into focus the hazel eyes shared by all three. He even had the same straight nose as his sister, only larger and not as haughty. Aye, the resemblance was there if one knew to look for it. Rominac had similar features to his sister, only masculine.
"Aye," he replied. "She is Reeka."
Rominac’s face paled. "Then she is..."
"Your sister."
He swallowed. "I thought that maybe she was, when I heard her name and that of being a warrior. The women guarding the cells were talking."
Garret watched him assessingly. Exactly what did he know of his sister, what did he remember?
"She really is all right?" Rominac looked at Garret.
"I don’t lie."
"I never meant to imply otherwise." He raised his chin. "I thank you for rescuing me."
"Don’t thank us, thank your sister. ‘Twas she who fought for our freedom."
"I get the impression you don’t particularly like me."
"I don’t know you, Northlander, so I’m reserving judgment."
"Fair enough, but I have a name. I would appreciate your using it."
Red grinned. "The similarities are there!"
Rominac cast him a confused glance.
"Never mind."
Draining the last of the una, Garret set the mug on the table. "In three hours we will land in Northland and you’ll be safe at home."
"I want to see my sister."
"She’s resting."
"Then when she awakens."
"That could be awhile. Mayhaps tonight or tomorrow."
"Whenever."
Rubbing his jaw, he eyed the younger man. "What is the need?"
Eyes flaring angrily, Rominac stood up suddenly. "You will not keep me from her! I demand to see her when she awakens!"
"Is that so?"
Rominac watched the Daamen trading captain stand up and walk around to tower over him.
"What if I refuse your demands, Rominac? What will you do?"
"I will fight you."
A rumble of laughter issued from the massive chest that was on eye-level with him. "You’ve no hope of winning, little man."
"She is my flesh and blood and I’ll not lose her again! Nothing in this galaxy will stop me from seeing my sister!"
Ten
A grin creased the giant’s face, approval in the deep voice. "You’ll do, Rominac." A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, nearly causing his knees to buckle. "Go and clean up, you stink of the cells."
"What of my demand?"
"Your request will be met when the lass awakens. Cam, take him to a cabin and loan him some clean clothes."
With a last dubious look at the Daamen captain, Rominac allowed himself to be led away. Truth be told, he counted himself fortunate to have won this skirmish with the giants, and knew when to retreat.
Once he’d left, Red remarked, "He’s insistent on seeing her. ‘Twill be interesting. They are alike in many ways."
"Stubborn and fearless," Simon added.
"And foolhardy." Garret sat down again. "How did you know where to find us?"
"It was Dana who discovered your disappearance and suspected where you’d been taken. We made her wear a tracking device when she insisted on going alone, which was the only way to get into the city."
"I fixed the tracker with a listening device as well," Red explained. "Even though our communicators were down, we were able to hear bits of conversation wherever she was. We heard enough to know what was happening."
"It took you long enough to get there," Jase said bluntly.
"Trust me, we came as fast as we could. We needed the security of the ship to escape in if things went badly. Even while flying towards Southland city, Red worked his arse off to repair the electronics."
"We’re grateful you came when you did," Garret said.
They sat talking for a while, then Jase yawned and stood up tiredly. "I’m for a shower and some sleep."
"Me, too." Garret stood up and looked at his friends. "I do thank you. Without you--"
"Ah, hell." Red shifted uncomfortably.
"Aye, well." Cam drained his mug. "I think I’ll go and do something."
"Me, too." Simon hurriedly departed the cabin.
Garret grinned. His friends were loyal to the bone and would fight fearlessly to the death for each other, but the merest hint of gratitude embarrassed them.
Entering his cabin, his eyes fell on the sleeping wench on his bunk. Lying on her side, legs curled beneath the cover, her injured arm lay atop the covers. Her other arm was bent at the elbow, the bandaged hand lying half curled near her chin. The cover was tucked beneath her arm, shielding her breasts and half of the self adhesive patch on her chest.
Moving to stand beside the bunk, he gazed down at her. The normally neat blonde hair was softly mussed, and spread across the pillow. Long lashes made dark half moons against pale skin, with dark shadows beneath her eyes. Soft lips were closed and relaxed in sleep. His eyes softened as they lingered on the cut on the curved bottom lip, the darkening bruises and the graze on the delicate cheekbone. Reaching out, he lightly traced the bruise on her throat, testament to the mutant’s grip.
It had been close, too close. Dana had nearly died today. The thought still caused an anguished chill to clutch at his heart. Lying in his bunk, battered and bruised, she appeared vulnerable in sleep. Aye, it had been too close. He’d nearly lost the lass he loved so much.
A small frown marred the smooth brow. Dana stirred, murmuring low and incoherently.
"Rest easy, lass," he whispered, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly down her cheeks.
Immediately she stilled, the frown easing, and slipped back into sleep’s healing embrace.
Straightening up, Garret moved around the big bunk and headed for the bathroom to shower away all traces of being incarcerated in the slave cells. On emerging, he pulled on a clean pair of pants and returned to the bunk.
Carefully sliding down beneath the cover, he turned onto his side and fitted himself against the sleeping warrior’s back, curling his longer legs in behind her slender ones.
In sleep, Dana didn�
��t feel the arm slide beneath her own to curve down just below her full breasts and pull her carefully closer. All her senses noted was a solid warmth behind her, and unconsciously she nestled back into the deliciously safe haven of a tender embrace.
Resting his chin atop the blonde head, contentment swept through Garret. Dana was where she was meant to be, in his arms, and he was never going to let her go again.
~ * ~
Warmth surrounded her, so comfortable, so... delicious. The pillow beneath her head was a bit hard but she was disinclined to move. Lazily, she moved her top leg up a hard length and stretched her arm over smooth-skinned swells, upon which her hand came to rest. Even through the bandage she could feel the bunching of muscle.
She was lying against someone. Someone big and strong. Dana’s eyes snapped open, and with a shock she realized that she was resting on Garret’s arm, nestled intimately against his body. Her pillow was his shoulder, his arm beneath her body and curling around her naked waist.
Naked? She froze. She became aware of the dull aches that filled her body and, memories came rushing back. The slavers, the mutant, the fight for their freedom. The injuries and the big trader tending her wounds.
The big trader holding her naked body against his--her senses whirled in panic. Was he naked, too? Almost frantically her skin registered the feel of material against her leg, and relief washed through her. No, he wore pants. But that was all. Her arm lay across a bare, smooth chest.
Cautiously she lifted her head, ignoring the protest of an aching body. Her gaze slid over the sleeping man beside her. Even in the dimness, the light filtering in from the corridor showed long brown hair scattered over the pillow, several strands intimately entangled with her own tresses. The strong, handsome face was relaxed in sleep, giving him the appearance of a roguish boy.
He lay on his back, the cover pushed down to his waist, baring the swell of hard pectorals to her eyes. Brown male nipples, a ribbed, flat stomach, the waistband of the pants riding low on lean hips...
The man wore pants but she was naked. Bloody hell! Where was the towel she’d been wrapped in when she’d gone to sleep?
Her cheeks burned as she realized that while the cover tucked beneath her arm concealed her nakedness from view, her bare breasts were pressed to Garret’s side. Her leg draped wantonly over his, her--oh God, her woman’s mound was nestled against a hard thigh!
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