I opened my eyes to meet his gaze, afraid that he would see me come undone. But he was looking at my side, where he had pushed aside the drape of my cloak to touch me. His hands fell away; his right palm was smeared with blood.

“You’re bleeding,” he whispered frantically. “You didn’t tell me you were wounded.”

I had forgotten about the swipe his brother had taken at me, hours ago. And everything seemed to crash over me at once: my exhaustion, my worry, my desire.

“Come here.” Phelan guided me to the bed, easing me down to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Let me tend to you.”

“Do you mean to undress me again?” I asked wryly.

He wasn’t amused by my humor. “You might need stitches, Clem.”

I winced, feeling the wound with each breath. “And what are you going to stitch me with?”

“I brought my supplies.”

“Then perhaps you should fetch them.”

He stroked a tangle of hair from my brow. His thumb grazed my cheek to find my mouth, tracing my parted lips before he brushed them with his own. A soft, fleeting kiss. Heat flared through me as I watched him depart.

Alone, I inhaled the solitude and pressed a fist to my chest, aching. It took me a moment to regain my composure, and I rushed my fingertips over my face, measuring my disguise. It was still intact, holding fast. But I sensed the frays along my edges. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

I stripped and examined my wound, arcing just over my hip bone. It wasn’t deep, but it was steadily bleeding again, most likely reopened when Phelan had pressed me against the wall.

A knock on my door. “Anna?”

It was him. His voice made everything leap within me, breathless.

“Anna?”

I swallowed and reached for a clean chemise. It was wrinkled from being shoved in my satchel, but it was soft against my skin as I unlocked the door.

Phelan stepped inside, carrying his medicine kit.

“I can stitch myself,” I said, reaching for it.

He withheld the box, glaring at me. “Are you serious?”

“As the grave. Hand it to me, please.”

“You’re pushing me away from you. Why?”

I hesitated, even as I longed to tell him everything.

“No more lies, Clem,” Phelan whispered. “We have both held our secrets long enough. Tell me what is troubling you. Tell me how I can help you.”

It was strange how those words of his struck deeper than his kiss. I wavered, leading him back to the bed. I lay down and let him stitch my wound, because I knew that I needed him to do it. And this was a good opportunity to get the answers I still needed from him, as he wouldn’t be able to up and run if I asked something he didn’t want to answer.