Страница 23 из 58
Randwulf had cuddled back under the covers. Apparently, it was too cold in the tent for such blatant flirtation. The sight of only his curly brown head sticking out made it easier for Elaine to go to him.
Perhaps he had been merely teasing, that when it came down to it, he would behave himself.
And pigs would fly.
Randwulf's smile was lovely, but there was a hint of evil in it, a knowledge in his eyes that was too intimate to be directed at a strange young girl. It seemed as if he knew what she looked like without clothes on, or wanted to.
Heat rushed up her face, but with the embarrassment came anger. Enough of this, she thought. She knelt before his covered figure, face set in a businesslike scowl. "What are your injuries?" She made her voice cold and distant.
He didn't seem to notice. "Oh, I am badly hurt, all over. I think you had best see for yourself." With that, he whipped back the covers, and Elaine looked down. She studied the ground as if her life depended on it.
Randwulf's face appeared in her line of vision. He laid his head in her lap, gazing up at her. "Don't you want to see my wounds?"
She stood up abruptly. His head thunked onto the frozen ground. He closed his eyes. "Now my head hurts, as well."
"I hope it does," she said. She was angry with him, but more with herself for letting him bother her so. She had tended a few strangers. But none had made it so difficult. It was easier to pretend her investigation, her touch wasn't intimate if the patient pretended also.
"There, I've fixed it," he said.
Elaine was almost afraid to look, but she did. He lay covered to his chin. His face looked very young, peeking from above the furs. He looked boyish and adorable, but the gleam in his eye was a little too grown-up for the act to be convincing. At least he was no longer naked. Elaine would take what improvement she could get.
Elaine knelt beside him one more time. Her fingers curled around the fur to pull it back. His cheek rubbed against her knuckles. She lifted the fur and her hand out of easy reach. If he had tried kissing it, she would have jerked away and left him to his own devices, but the movement was one a cat might make. An overly friendly cat.
She lowered the covers slowly, eyes searching his body for injuries. His skin was not as pale as the paladin's. He looked as if he would brown in the sun. His chest and arms were shapely but slender compared to Fredric's. He could not boast nearly as many scars. He was either luckier, a better fighter, or newer to adventure. Elaine thought the last., Both his forearms bore bite marks. It looked as if a wolf had grabbed each arm and held on. They were fearsome wounds, but nothing to die over. Rand-wulf's flat stomach was unblemished, skin smooth.
He lay back on the furs, a slow smile on his face. He looked very pleased with himself. Elaine fought the urge to slap him. It would probably have made him laugh. She did not want to amuse him. She realized, strangely enough, that she wanted to hurt him. Or at least make him as uncomfortable as he had made her.
Elaine took a deep breath and let it slowly out. She pulled the covers below his waist. She gave only a quick glance before moving on to his legs. If the death wound had been in a very intimate place, Kon-rad could bloody well search for it himself.
His legs were short, almost stocky, muscled from walking, but uninjured. A white scar like a bolt of frozen lightning traced his right thigh, but there were no new wounds.
Elaine sighed. "Please, turn over." Randwulf's wounds would of course be in an out-of-the-way place. He couldn't possibly have done it on purpose.
She glanced at the slow curl of his smile. He stretched, arms straight over his shoulders. Every muscle in his body strained. He was like a contented cat that had already drunk its fill of cream. His dark eyes stared at her as if she were the proverbial canary.
Konrad and Fredric were just an arm's length away. He couldn't possibly do anything to her. He was simply flirting or teasing, or both. But it meant nothing-nothing real. Randwulf had only as much power over her as she gave him, and she'd given him far too much already.
"Turn over, Randwulf, now." Her voice was a good imitation of Tereza's when she'd had all she could stand of silly children and indoor games.
Randwulf blinked at her, his smile slipped around the edges. He rubbed his hands down his chest and across his stomach. Her eyes followed them, as he'd wanted them to. The hands started to slip farther, but she grabbed one bloody wrist, wrenching the skin in two different directions. He gave a hiss of pain.
"Turn over so I can look for injuries, or I'll put salt in these wounds."
"You wouldn't dare," he said, but there was doubt in his eyes.
"Salt cleanses a wound and prevents infection."
His eyes narrowed as if he didn't believe her. But there must have been something in her face that convinced him. He began to turn over, slowly, giving her time to admire the way his body worked.
Elaine kept her best no-nonsense look in place. She consciously pictured Tereza at her most cross. The look that had always sent Elaine and herself ru
Randwulf never took his eyes from her face, looking for some reaction besides disapproval. He didn't find it. He gave a small sigh and settled onto his stomach, though he did keep his face turned so he could watch her.
Elaine was staring, open-mouthed at the back of his neck. His hair had been just long enough to hide it from the front, but now. . Jaws had crushed the back of his neck, broken his spine. Tooth marks imprinted the skin, but the neck itself had filled back up, like a waterskin inflating. He moved well enough that it was clear the spine was not severed. The tooth marks filled with blood like miniature rain puddles with rain.
But the blood did not flow. The wound looked raw, but the blood seemed to be held in suspension by some invisible force. If the wound were swabbed with a damp cloth, would it bleed afresh?. Would they start it to bleeding? Would it stop once it started? With magic healing, who knew?
Randwulf watched her face. "Is it that ugly?" He was young and handsome, and the horror on her face bothered him.
He had handed her a way to hurt him; all she had to do was lie. The one thing she could not do.
"It is not the appearance of the wound, but the terrible injury it must have been. Your spine was broken, snapped. How can you be healed of that?"
"I don't know," he said.
"Is this the first time you. . died?" she asked.
His small white teeth bit his lower lip, his eyes uncertain. "The first time."
"Were you frightened?"
"Of dying?"
She nodded.
"I was frightened when the wolves grabbed my arms. They held me with their mouths the way two men would have held me with their hands. Then I heard the man-wolf behind me. His breath was loud and hot against my neck. I think I screamed. There was a moment of sharp, horrible pain, then nothing. I didn't feel a thing." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, fingertips tracing the tooth marks, ever so lightly. "No pain, but I felt myself slide away. I felt myself die."
Elaine just stared at him. She couldn't think of anything to say.
"Elaine, may I speak with you," Konrad said. He stood, forced to stoop by the low ceiling. He went to the tent flap. "Outside."
Elaine fought to keep to her face blank, stood, and followed him outside. The wind hit her face like a cold slap. She lifted her hood in place, struggling against the wind to hold the furred cloak close to her body.
Konrad's long hair spilled over his face, tangled by the icy wind. With his back to the wind, his cloak streamed out around him; no need to hold it next to his body-the wind did that on its own. The tent cracked and bucked in the rising gusts.