She steered Cadan toward it and he collapsed onto the bed, groaning heavily as he settled onto the comforter. Soft, dark cloth covered a sea of mattress set into a heavy wooden frame.
“Cadan, listen to me. Do you have any medical supplies? Extra towels?” The idea of stitching his wounds made her stomach heave, but some of them were deep and miserable. “You need stitches.”
“Bathroom. No stitches. I’ll heal.”
Relief rushed through her. No sewing through flesh today, thank God. But she could still help him, so she turned, scanning the different doors that led from the room, looking for a bathroom. One, near the wall of windows, looked like the most likely candidate.
Inside, she found a large, modern bathroom. After rifling through the cabinets, she found a box of medical supplies and a large bowl beneath the sink and dragged them out. She filled the bowl with water and grabbed some towels. Arms loaded, she headed into the bedroom.
Most of the color had faded from his skin and his paleness stood out starkly against the dark bedspread. Closer inspection revealed that Cadan had drifted into an uneasy sleep, and though he was breathing evenly, his face was tense.
She dipped a cloth into the bowl of water and ran it over his face. It grated roughly over the stubble of his beard, but she managed to remove most of the sweat and blood. Cleaned of it, his features were strong and symmetrical. Handsome, there was no other way to put it.
Diana blew out a breath. She needed to quit ogling. But it was hard, particularly when the man had leapt out of the car to defend her and had received these injuries on her behalf. He’d been so fierce. He’d protect her with his life, but push her away because it was against the rules. He wouldn’t kiss her, not once he remembered that he shouldn’t, and he wouldn’t give her any clues about her identity.
But then, she understood about following rules.
She sighed, then reached into the First Aid kit and withdrew a pair of shears. Carefully, she cut away his tattered and blood-soaked shirt. She bit her lip as she spread it open to reveal his wounds, wincing when it stuck to dried blood.
His sculpted chest was coated in streaks of sweat and crimson, cuts and gashes marring the otherwise flawless skin. As she ran the towel over his chest, she felt each swell of muscle beneath the wet cloth. She wiped blood from the slowly weeping wounds, some of which appeared to be knitting together in front of her eyes.
With the speed that he was recovering, she’d probably just have to put a few of the large butterfly bandages on the more serious gashes. The plastic backs peeled off easily and she put three over the largest wound under his right pectoral muscle, stroking the undamaged skin for a little too long.
Cadan’s hand closed over her wrist in an iron grip. Diana jumped, barely suppressing a scream. He glared at her, shadows haunting his eyes.
“What’re you doing?” he said through gritted teeth.
“I’m trying—” She winced as his grip tightened. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Doona need your help.” Cadan’s voice was harsh and dark with pain. His gaze dropped to her wrist. Scowling, he removed his hand and sat up. “Leave me alone, I doona want your help.”
“Fine.” She rose to leave.
“There’s a bedroom across the hall.” He gestured to the door as he limped around his bed and headed toward the windows. “You can sleep there, but leave the door open. There’s a spell on this house that makes it invisible to most who pass by, but better safe than sorry.”
Chapter 14
Vivienne Lawrence accepted the last test from a grinning student. All the others had left within the last fifteen minutes, but this smiling girl who’d sat in the front row was the last to turn hers in.
“Good?” Vivienne asked.
“Great.” The girl’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She turned and headed back to her desk to grab her bag. On her way out of the classroom she asked, “When will Dr. Laughton be back?”
Vivienne tried to play it cool. “Next week, I think. She’s a little under the weather.”
“Cool. ‘Night.”
Vivienne stacked the tests and idly watched the girl walk out of the classroom that Diana’s department used for Intro to Medieval History. She’d only covered Diana’s classes for a few days, so she didn’t really know the student, but she knew her type. Sat front row, smart, dedicated, and always turned the test in last because she always had something extra to say on the essay portions.