The Stag Lord (17 page)

The feel of her skin against his made his heart skip a beat. It had been so long since anyone beside Cor had touched him, outside of social etiquette. Especially a woman's touch. He blushed, hoping she wouldn't notice the increased warmth.

“Well, you're no longer running a fever. Let's check that wound.”

His blush deepened when she slid the blanket off his bare chest. As she began folding it back, he was suddenly aware of the fact that he was naked under the covers.

“Say, Cor? Why don't you go…” He fumbled for some errand on which to send the boy. He didn't care a whit about being naked in front of his son. It was being naked
in front of a woman in front of his son
that made his ears burn.

“…go see if Max wants more to eat,” Shay finished the sentence. “He didn't get all his dinner last night.”

“‘Kay.” Cor wiggled out from under his father's arm and slid off the bed. “C'mon, Max.”

Shay waited until Cor disappeared. A grin teased her lips as she pushed the comforter away, baring his body all the way down to his thigh, but keeping a fold of material discreetly covering his groin. “Bannerman Boru, I can't believe you're embarrassed. Why, we're
Celts
, for Danu's sake. Our ancestors went into battle wearing nothing but woad on their faces, a torc, and a boot-'em-in-thearse attitude. And it's not like I haven't seen a naked man before. I'm a Healer, remember?” He noticed she didn't mention the fact she had seen him naked just last night.

“I am not embarrassed.”

“Yes, you are.” She began peeling away the surgical tape, her fingers gentle.

“Well, perhaps a little.”

“Ashamed of your body?” She probed the wound, studying it.

“Should I be?”

You're flirting with her, and you practically on your deathbed
, said a tiny voice in his head.

So?
He answered back.
What if I am? No harm in an innocent exchange. And as for being on my deathbed, why, I'm feeling much better now, thank you
.

The voice rolled its eyes.

Her stare swept along his length of his body with a look of frank appreciation. Bann was grateful for the thickness of the quilted comforter as her gaze lingered on his chest, then traveled downward, clearly enjoying the journey, to his stomach. His pulse surged from a trot to a gallop when she moved on to his bare hip.

“Nope. Not at all.” She placed the soiled bandage to one side. Back in Healer mode, she smoothed the covers in place and helped him sit up, bunching the pillows behind him with a practiced move. “Drink. Then we'll talk.” She handed him the mug of tea, then reached across the bed and opened the curtains before taking a seat in the chair by the bed. Morning blessed the room.

After draining the mug, Bann settled deeper in the pillows. He found himself captivated by the sunlight gleaming on Shay's hair—its color a match for the sun—flowing around her shoulders. His enjoyment faded when the Healer leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. Irritation deepened her eyes to indigo.

“Well, Bannerman Boru. I hope yesterday's events taught you a lesson.”

“And what lesson would that be?” He was not above stalling for time.

“Taking off like that. You know, that whole ‘lone wolf' act is going to get you and Cor hurt. Or both of you killed.”
Or Cor killed
. She left the words unspoken.

Which would be the same as my own death
, Bann thought.

“Why won't you just admit you need our help? No, listen. Hugh and I talked last night. We're going to do everything we can to protect you and Cor. Which could get dicey, seeing there's some rogue Fir Bolgs to contend with as well as a crazy god guy.”

“Shay—”

“The first order of business is to get you healthy. Luckily, we've got some breathing room with Samhain over three weeks away. In the meantime, Hugh's going to see what he can find out about how one goes about killing a god.”

“Shay,” Bann tried again. “I don't think—”

“That's for sure. Because you're lying there all beat up with a hole in your side, trying to figure out how to explain why you cannot accept our protection, and how once you're well, you need to flee with Cor, and blah, blah, blah. Give it a rest and accept the inevitable.”

“Which is?”

“Why, that you're outnumbered.”

“And just how do you figure—”

Cor walked in with a bulging daypack on his back and another one in his arms. “Shay told me to get a bunch of clothes for me and you from the camper.” He dropped the pack on the other bed, then turned and fell backward beside it. For a few moments, he wiggled like a turtle on its shell until he worked free of the straps, then stood up. “All done.”

“Underwear and socks?” Shay hinted.

Cor smacked his forehead. “Be right back.” He disappeared.

Shay grinned in triumph, her nose crinkling slightly. “See?
Two
against one. Remember?”

“Fine. I admit defeat.”

“And I bet
that
hurt worse than being stabbed.”

“You have no idea.” He shifted on the bed, then winced at the pull of the injury. “How does it look, by the way?”

“Well, I finally figured out the stab
was
a puncture, probably from that prong. It must have had some bad mojo on it, because your body fought one hell of an infection all night. The wound looks better today and is finally reacting to the
sláinte
nettle. Somewhat. How's the pain?”

“Bearable. The potion is helping.”

“Hungry?”

“Not really. But I'm sure I will be after I move about some.” Bann started to fling back the covers when he realized that would not be a good idea. “Would you mind handing me my jeans?” He looked around. “Which are where?”

“Washing machine. And why? You're not going anywhere—you're confined to bed under Healer's orders.”

“I need to relieve myself.”

“I'll get you a bedpan.”

“I'll hold it, then.”

“Obstinate.”

“Tyrannical.”

“Why did you call Shay a dinosaur?” Cor asked, walking in with a plastic grocery bag of underwear in one hand.

Bann laughed, then hitched in a breath at another stab of pain. The increasing pressure on his bladder didn't help any. “Look, I really do need to go. What if Cor helps me there and back?”

Shay relented. “All right. Cor, you're in charge. You stay with him and make sure he gets right back in bed afterwards. Bann, I'll fix you a tray.”

After she left, Bann directed Cor to fetch a bath towel from the bathroom. He waited until the boy returned, then flung the covers back. Easing his legs over the side of the mattress, he let Cor pull him up to his feet. For a moment, the room imitated a Tilt-A-Whirl. He kept one hand on the boy's shoulder until his balance returned. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he shuffled out of the room and across the hall. Cor paced beside him, holding his father's elbow.

After relieving himself, Bann readjusted the towel and stepped around Cor to the sink. He examined his face. “It looks worse than it feels,” he said, catching the boy's grimace in the mirror.

“I hope so. Are you done? Because I gotta go, too. And I'm not supposed to leave you by yourself.” Something in his tone reminded Bann of Elizabeth when she was in one of her bitchy moments. Moments that had become more and more frequent as the years went on. Along with the fights, which were mostly over Cor and how to raise him.

“I'll clean up a bit, then.”

Bann dampened a washcloth and began swiping away the leftover streaks of blood Shay had missed the night before. He idly glanced over when Cor lowered his pants to pee.

Bruises mottled the boy's side.

Rage exploded in Bann's chest. Lowering his head, he gripped the rim of the sink. For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out from the craving to rip apart the Fir Bolg who had put those bruises on his son's body.

On his child's soul.

Clamping down on the fury, he sucked in a deep breath, then turned and leaned a hip against the counter. He waited until Cor finished his business and straightened his clothes. “Son. About last night…”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Cor flushed the toilet, apparently hoping to drown out his father's words.

Bann waited until the whooshing subsided. A corner of his brain wondered if he should have chosen a better place and time to have this discussion. He plugged ahead, anyway. “I know you don't. But what happened was
not your fault
.”

“Yeah, it was,” Cor whispered, almost to himself. “I should've stopped them.”

Oh, gods
. “No, son. You did everything right.”

He shook his head, eyes locked on the towel rack. “You told me to wait in the store and I didn't.”

“That does not matter. They were in the wrong to take you. And to touch you.
” And they will pay for it
.

A tear spilled over Cor's cheek. He practically slapped it away, as if punishing himself. “I didn't fight hard enough.”

The tear savaged Bann. “Ye did grand, boyo.” His own eyes burned. “Why, ye kept yer wits and saved us both.”

More tears made their escape. Cor gave up trying to stop them. “Th-ththey kept hitting me. They hurt me.”

Hating to ask, but knowing he was half-unconscious at the time, Bann steeled himself. “Did they touch your bottom?”
Please
.
Please, not that
.

“No, just my stomach and chest and sides. And one of them licked my ear.” Cor shuddered. He sank down on the edge of the tub and let out a shuddering breath, as if weak-legged from the relief of finally laying down the burden.

Lowering the lid on the toilet, Bann took a seat next to the boy, their knees bumping. For a long minute, they sat in silence.

Then Bann cleared his throat. “Ye said it was yer fault, but in fact, it was mine.
I
should have stopped them.
I
dinna fight hard enough.” He reached over and ran a thumb down Cor's wet cheek. “But I promise ye, I will hunt them down and kill them.”

Cor nodded, lashes spiky with tears. Then, beyond all belief, he broke into a weak grin. “Okay, but I get first dibs.”

Unable to speak in the face of such grit, Bann pulled Cor over onto his lap, ignoring the stab of pain, and wrapped his arms around his son. The lump in his throat swelled larger when Cor buried his face in the junction between the man's neck and shoulder. Slipping his hand inside the boy's T-shirt, he stroked the bare back, relishing the feeling of skin, still baby-sweet, over growing bones. Cor nestled closer.

A tap on the door interrupted them.

“Everything okay in there?” Shay.

“Just finishing up,” Bann said hoarsely. He set Cor on the floor, then rose, gritting his teeth. “Do you want to stay in here a little while longer, son?”

“No, I'm good.” He squeezed around his father and stuck his mouth under the faucet for a gulp of water, then nodded as he wiped his chin. “
Faugh a ballagh
,” he added, squaring his shoulders.

My warrior son
. Bann shook his head in relief and amusement. “That's possibly the first time our battle cry has been sounded in a bathroom.”

“Just practicing. You know. For when we go hunt them down.”

“Shout away, then.” Opening the door, Bann paused at the sight of Shay standing in the hallway with a breakfast tray. “All is well,” he said to her questioning look.

Hitching the towel higher, he stepped past and slid under the covers. Cor and Shay bustled about, plumping pillows and placing the tray of toast and coffee and sliced melon on his lap. He nodded his thanks. “You offer fine service along with your healing, Shay Doyle. I could become used to this.”

“Yeah, I'll bet. Okay, eat what you feel like, and then try to get some more sleep.”

Bann surprised himself by doing just that. When he awoke again, early evening filled the room with twilight shadows, the curtains still open. Through the open door, he could hear more than one voice speaking, half-muted by the rattle of dishes and glassware. He looked over at the whiffling sound coming from the other bed.

Cor slept sprawled on his back, mouth open and arms flung wide. A blanket was thrown over him and his shoes were on the floor between the beds. Max reclined next to him, taking up most of the bed. Spotting the man gazing at him, he thumped his tail.

Bann smiled at him. “A prince of a dog, to be sure,” he said in a quiet voice. Max's muzzle parted in a doggy smile.

15

R
UMMAGING THROUGH THE TINY
pantry she had converted into an apothecary storeroom, Shay applauded herself once again for having the foresight to build floor-to-ceiling shelves on all three sides. With hardly any room for her to turn around in, the space was thick with the aroma of teas, healing plants in various stages of drying, bowls of desiccated animal parts, and one entire shelf dedicated to her stock of
sláinte
nettle leaves. Different-sized bottles, all with handwritten labels, stood in rows, waiting for orders.

Locating the small amber bottle of salve she had been searching for, the one that reduced scarring, Shay stepped back into the kitchen. “Guys, the pizza should be done any minute. Go ahead and eat while it's hot. I want to check on Bann.” She headed for the guest room. Not wanting to wake man or boy, she tiptoed closer and peered inside.

Bann was standing in the middle of the room with his back to the door.

Naked.

He was lifting something from his bed. The diffused light from the living room defined his body in shades of pewter, like a charcoal sketch come to life. Shay eased away, but not before she noted the wide shoulders over narrow hips and rounded buttocks, the sculpted back and leg muscles. A few old scars here and there on his body only accented the fact that this was a man built for battle.