EIGHTEEN
Bernard gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to make a sound. Even the lightest touch to those dark places where he knew his bones were broken felt like the fires of hell itself. It mattered not. He could not ask her to stop, for the bandages needed to be changed, and he could not do them himself.
Her hands were gentler than the physician's, he had to admit. The harpy, it seemed, had flown off, leaving this surprisingly sweet girl in her place.
But all this warmth and stroking was having an effect he had not considered – and the proximity of the pretty girl wasn't helping matters. When he bared his leg, he'd made sure his tunic covered everything else, but he couldn't hide the rising tent in his tunic, nor could he stop it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of cold t
