The Warrior's Forbidden Virgin Read Online Free PDF

the room was starting to sway. Below, she saw the bodies of John’s men, and her stomach lurched.
    “I want to leave this chamber,” she insisted. “Now.”
    She didn’t wait for him to agree, but escaped into the hallway. The soft sounds of his footsteps followed her. When she reached her chamber, she grasped the wooden post of her bed, trying to force away the dizziness.
    “I’d forgotten…how much head wounds bleed,” Ademar muttered. He cursed beneath his breath. “Could you help me with this?”
    Katherine took a step backwards. Her knees were quaking at the thought of having to ply a needle to his flesh. She swallowed hard.
    “You need a true healer, not me.” She gripped the bedpost so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “I’m not like Honora. She’s good at healing and—and—I—”
    Her legs buckled, and she held fast to the bedpost. A rush of noise filled her ears, and the chamber swayed. Desperately, she tried to regain control of herself, but to no avail. The vision of Ademar’s blood overcame her, and she crumpled to the floor.
     
    Katherine awoke with her head in his lap. She stared up at Ademar, who was still clutching her veil to his head.
    Oh, saints. She was truly the most pathetic woman in all of England. How could she possibly have fainted, when Ademar needed her help?
    “I’m sorry,” she murmured, forcing herself to sit up. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
    “It’s all right.” His hand reached out to touch her hair. “The bleeding has mostly stopped.”
    “It’s not all right.” She pressed her hand to his temple. “You’re hurt.”
    He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
    Gingerly, she lifted aside the veil. His blond hair was matted with blood, the wound swollen and bruised. A small cut, the width of her finger, was bleeding, though it had slowed to a dull flow.
    She should summon a healer, someone who knew how to care for the wound. But she felt responsible for what had happened. He’d been hurt while trying to protect her.
    It humiliated her, that she’d fainted instead of helping him. He would think her a coward, a fact which bothered her deeply. She had to redeem herself, to somehow overcome her fears.
    “I need to stitch this,” she said, getting up from the floor. Though she had never sewn a cut before, she would force herself to get through the task. Taking a deep breath, she retrieved her needle and a length of silk thread.
    Ademar sat down upon the chair once more, quietly awaiting her attentions. His hands rested on his knees, which lay slightly apart. Katherine drew near, and he placed his hands on her waist, almost in an embrace.
    She looked into his deep blue eyes, and saw understanding in them. “I’m afraid of hurting you,” she admitted. “I’ve never stitched a wound before.”
    “It’s all right,” he said. He lowered his head to allow her to reach. His hands remained about her waist, and the light touch bolstered her courage.
    You must do this. He needs you.
    She bit her lip hard, determined not to faint again. She threaded the needle, then sponged off the blood and examined the cut. It would require three stitches, she guessed. But the act of piercing his flesh was unsettling.
    His thumbs caressed her spine in silent encouragement. Katherine took a deep breath and steeled herself. When her needle pricked his skin, he didn’t move. Only the tension in his arms showed that she had done anything.
    The slickness upon her fingers was starting to bother her, so she stitched as fast as she could, using his knife to cut the thread. She blotted the wound once more, and it remained closed.
    Ademar stood up. “Thank you, my lady.”
    It was done now. Relief poured over her, but her knees were still wobbly. Her uneasiness had little to do with the stitching. And everything to do with being so close to him.
    She touched his face, examining him for other cuts or bruises. A small scar edged his throat, one she’d not noticed