went up on her hind legs to avoid stepping on the dog and crow-hopped sideways and the dog went nuts and the cow kicked again and the drover was yelling and she lost her seat on the saddle and the horse came down and Marguerite fell off and the ground came up to meet her.
SEVEN
“EASY…” someone said in her ear. “Easy. Don’t move. I’m right here.”
Marguerite wanted to say that she was fine, she hadn’t even lost consciousness in the fall, but her head was still ringing and adrenaline was a cold wash through her veins. She wasn’t quite sure how long it had been. She didn’t think she’d blacked out, but there had been a long few seconds when the world was going whommmmm around her and she had been carefully not moving, in case it didn’t stop.
The horse hadn’t stepped on her. That was the important thing. It would be extremely annoying to have dodged the Sail for several years, only to have her career ended with a badly placed hoof.
“Easy,” he said again. A man, but she didn’t quite recognize his voice. “Easy. Hold still. I’m going to check your neck. Don’t move. It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Of course you’re right there, she thought. She would have been annoyed but there was something incredibly soothing about the way he spoke. She could not remember the last voice she’d heard that was so gentle, so trustworthy. She wanted to trust that voice, to believe that everything really was okay.
Strong fingers moved down the back of her neck. “Does this hurt at all?”
She tried to shake her head and the hands immediately locked into place, holding her head still with unexpected strength. “No, don’t do that. Tell me. Can you talk?”
“I can talk,” she said. Her mouth was full of sand and more got in when she opened it.
“Good, good.” That voice made speaking sound like a great accomplishment. “You’re doing good.
Tell me if anything hurts.”
“My knee hurts like the devil.”
A deep, sympathetic noise. “We’ll get there in a minute. Can you wiggle your fingers?”
Marguerite wiggled them obediently. “Good girl. Does your head hurt?” He slid his hands across her skull. “Any sore spots?”
“There.”
He fell silent, fingers gently working over the soreness. “Nothing soft,” he said after a moment.
“Nothing bleeding. Can you focus your eyes?”
He’s a healer. Of course. I should have realized before. That was the kind of voice it was. Calm and kind and absolutely in control of the situation. Marguerite could recognize it now, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying it. There was a nagging familiarity to it, though. Had they met before? And where were the paladins when she was lying injured on the dirt with a strange man poking her head?
“I can focus just fine,” she said. “There’s a pebble in front of me shaped vaguely like a goat. I can’t say it’s terribly interesting. Can I move yet?” She hadn’t slept on her stomach since she was thirteen and her breasts were squashed in uncomfortable ways.
“Just a little longer. You’re doing very well.” She felt his thumbs settle on either side of her spine, moving lower. His forearm brushed her back. There was nothing remotely sexual about his touch, but Marguerite was incredibly aware of his presence. Those hands…and that voice. Damn. He’s got to be taken. Men who sound like that never stay on the market for long.
She really wanted to see his face. Maybe she’d be lucky and he’d have a face like a frog’s ass and the other women in his life had all been terribly shallow and she could sweep in and prove to him that looks were all a matter of attitude anyway and what mattered was who you were on the inside and…
dammit all, we’re on a deadline, we have to go save the world’s economy, I don’t have time for dallying along the way. Crap.
“I don’t feel any breaks,” he said after a moment. He took her left arm and stretched it out. “Does this hurt?”
“Angle’s a little awkward, but no.”
Wren’s voice intruded. “Foster caught the horse,” she said, from somewhere over Marguerite’s head. “Is she okay?”
“She’s doing fine,” said the healer.
“Hi, Wren,” said Marguerite. “I fell off my horse.”
“Yes, I saw. It was pretty spectacular. You did an amazing shoulder roll.”
“Did I?”
“Does this hurt?” Her left leg this time, though he wasn’t rubbing his hands over it the way he had her neck. Damn.
“Nope.”
“Yeah, it was really impressive,” Wren said.
“I bet. Is everyone else okay?”
“Oh, yeah, fine. You just got unlucky. The drover’s very sorry.”
“Does this hurt?” Right leg. He was coming up on the right side now. She rolled her eyes down to see if she could get a look at him, but the angle was still bad. Then he hit a sore spot and she hissed.
“Easy, easy…” He rolled up her trouser leg and those strong hands settled on her calf. “Here?”
“That’s the spot.”
He worked his way along the shin. Marguerite had not previously considered the erotic qualities of the human shin. Okay, yeah, that’s definitely the adrenaline. Nobody’s that into shins. Maybe I
can convince him to check a bit higher.
“No breaks that I can feel. You may have a bruise there.”
“How’s my horse?”
Wren shrugged. “Still a horse? I dunno. Foster says she’s fine too.”
“Oh, good.” And where exactly is Shane in all of this? Giving that dog a very stern look?
“I’m going to lift you up,” the healer said. “Tell me immediately if anything hurts, or if anything goes numb.” He got his hands under her armpits and picked her up. She helped as much as she could and found herself sitting upright with her back against his chest as he knelt behind her. “There you go,” he said. She could feel that voice rumbling against her back, a very agreeable sensation. “How is your head?”
“Sore, but I think I’m fine.” She looked ruefully at Wren. “Now where did Shane get off to? He’s supposed to be my damn bodyguard.”
Wren’s eyebrows shot up. The healer went very still.
Did I just put my foot in it?
“Errr…” said the healer. His voice was suddenly a little less deep and much less soothing. It sounded apologetic. More than that, it sounded familiar.
Fighting a sudden sinking realization, Marguerite wriggled around to see the man’s face.
One arm still around her shoulders, close enough to bite or kiss, Shane looked down into her eyes.
“WELL,” said Marguerite. “This is awkward.” She got hastily to her feet, slapping dirt off her backside. “I…ah…didn’t realize it was you.”
Shane inclined his head and said nothing, but his jaw was drawn so tight that she wondered if he was in pain.
“Must have still been a little dazed from the fall.” She swallowed, looking down at him. He was so tall and she was so short that the difference in their heights was actually rather less when he was kneeling. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have implied you were shirking your duties.”