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had passed. But there was an even more remote place he could live in secret with her, take her as his mate. Breed with her.
    And what then? Remain hidden for their entire lives? If they bore a child together, would he keep that secret as well? What if it was a girl child?
    “Here we are.” Her voice yanked him from his thoughts. She came at him with his jar of vinegar in one hand. “Bed.” She pointed for emphasis. “Trews.” She pinched his trousers at his hip and gave a firm tug that zinged him in the worst possible place.
    By the moon, he wanted to plant himself deep between her thighs. He wanted it so bad it hurt. Leaning a hip on his workbench, he gritted his teeth against the pleasurable ache and shifted the pile of bandages to hide the tent in his lap.
    She put her fists on her hips. “What are ye waiting for? On the bed with you.”
    “I can clean my own wound ,” he said more harshly than he’d meant to. “But first, I’ll see yours cleaned and dressed.”
    She was standing close. He could see tears in the sleeves of her dress and pink scratches beneath. Fucking Larnians. He’d be worse than those barbarians if he let his painful arousal keep him from caring for her. “Give me the vinegar.” He wrapped his hand around the jar. His fingers covered hers.
    She didn’t let it go. “My injuries are practically nonexistent. Your wound is far more serious.” She tugged the jar toward her bosom.
    He should let go. He didn’t. Not even when his knuckles brushed the laced-up front of her woolen dress. A drab thing it was—nothing like the bright silks favored by the ladies in Chroina—but it fit her curved body like a glove. The gathered linen around her neck invited a man’s nose to search among the folds until he found her warm, fragrant skin beneath. His thumb left the jar to stroke the fabric over her breast.
    She sucked in a breath .
    Their gazes met and locked. Her pupils dilated. She licked her lips.
    Something wild grew inside of him, filling him near to the point of agony. Relief could only come by joining his body with hers. His hands shook with the necessity of claiming her flesh, branding her with his scent until no other male would mistake her as a woman available for breeding.
    He’d known bodily urges before and never failed to relieve them with his own hand. This was more than that. Much more.
    Was this what happened to a man when he got a cock-stand near a flesh and blood woman? Is this what the lottery winners experienced when taking ladies to their beds?
    He closed the small distance between them until the only thing keeping their bodies from fitting tight together was the jar with both their hands wrapped around it. He was going to take her. Danu help him, he would not be able to stop himself. He bent his head to hers, needing to put his mouth on her skin, needing to rub his scent on her.
    She turned her face away. Her eyes dulled. She stepped back, relinquishing the jar.
    “You’ll no’ get what you’re after,” she said, her voice as flat as her expression. “I’ll repay you for your kindness, but no’ with my body. My service is only as good as a crippled maid’s, but it’s all I have to offer. You’ll settle for that pittance or you’ll get nothing at all.” She raised her chin. “Now will you permit me to tend your wound or no’?”
    She thought he wanted her body for payment? Or to keep her as a servant?
    What had he almost done?
    The vinegar slipped from his numb fingers. He lunged and caught the jar the instant before it would have shattered on the floor. The move sent a shard of pain through his thigh. He deserved it. He’d taken a liberty with her that would have earned him a lashing in Chroina. That rogue touch had started something he almost hadn’t been able to stop. Ashamed, he settled onto his knees before her, head bowed, holding the stupid jar.
    “Forgive me, lady. I seek no payment, especially not...of that nature.” He risked a peek up at her.
    Her