Bed of Roses Read Online Free PDF Page B

that we are well-known and feared in two lands, he will be too afraid to—”
    “Afraid?” Zafiro shouted the word. “Afraid of what? Of your bottle? Of Lorenzo’s naps? Of Pedro’s preaching? You will say nothing, do you hear me, Maclovio?”
    He drew himself up to his full height, lost his balance again, and began to totter. “I heard you. I am not the deaf one.” With that, Maclovio shut the door.
    Satisfied, Zafiro turned back to the bed and hurried to arrange the medical supplies on a small table. “I found this whiskey under Maclovio’s pillow, Tia,” she said, withdrawing a brown bottle from the deep pocket in her skirt. “If Sawyer awakens we will have him drink it so he can sleep again.”
    “My little Francisco cannot have whiskey. He is too young, but it is good that you brought the liquor. Soak the threads and the needles in it.”
    Zafiro did as bade, grateful that Tia knew so much about doctoring.
    “Now, help me strip him, chiquita . His leg is bleeding, but he is a big, strong boy, and I cannot take off his clothes by myself.”
    While Zafiro watched Tia tug off Sawyer’s boots and stockings, she pondered the fact that she was going to see him naked in only moments. She’d seen her men bathe in the stream every now and again during the past years, but Sawyer’s body was going to look very different from those of her men.
    Her eyes wide with curiosity, she reached for the fastenings at the top of his breeches. When the buttons were opened she saw that he wore no undergarments.
    Evidence of that was the thick mat of tawny hair at his groin.
    Heat melted through her, a warmth that flustered her thoughts and aroused that odd feeling of yearning again, that same strange desire she’d felt while watching Sawyer from the convent window.
    “Ayudame,” Tia ordered, pulling at the waistband of the pants. “Help me.”
    Her hands and fingers quivering, Zafiro assisted Tia with Sawyer’s tight breeches, rolling them over his hips, down his thighs, and finally pulling them off altogether.
    “Oh, my little Francisco!” Tia exclaimed when she saw a jagged gash on his thigh, an injury much worse than the ones on his upper torso. “Zafiro, wet the cloths and help me clean his wounds!”
    Zafiro didn’t move. All she could do was stare.
    Naked. Sawyer Donovan lay before her completely naked, his massive frame nearly covering the entire mattress.
    Hardly aware of her own actions, Zafiro took a step forward, closer to the bed, branding in her mind her first sight of true male splendor.
    His whole body was tanned, his skin lighter than hers, of course, but dark for a white man. She wondered if he spent a great deal of time in the sun without clothing. Bathing, perhaps, or maybe just basking.
    The thought stirred her emotions further; she felt moisture trickle down between her breasts.
    She’d never seen so much muscle. His shoulders, chest, stomach, legs… Not even Maclovio—mighty as he’d been years ago—had been as strong as Sawyer.
    Filled with awe, she continued to examine him, her gaze drawn to the area beneath his hips, between his thighs, where his…
    She thought of all the many things Azucar had told her about the sexual intimacy between a man and a woman. Thought about what a man did to a woman when he bedded her. Thought about—
    “Zafiro!”
    Startled nearly out of her skin, Zafiro turned and wet several white cloths with the water she’d boiled earlier. Tamping down her heated emotions and silently chastising herself for wasting time admiring a man who might be dying before her very eyes, she forced herself to tend to the cut on the right side of Sawyer’s torso. When the wound was clean of all dirt Tia began to stitch it closed. Zafiro then moved to bathe the laceration on Sawyer’s chest and another on his shoulder.
    After that there was only one injury left to clean. As she examined it she realized it would take much longer to heal than the injuries on his torso. The nasty claw