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She cleaned his hands—his split knuckles and scraped palms—then moved lower to his abdomen and legs. She let him take care of his intimate parts, respectfully averting her gaze.

She’d seen him naked before, but this was different. She wanted him to have his privacy. His dignity.

By the time she finished, the worst of the blood and grime was gone, and Gideon looked more human than he had since their escape.

“Can you stand?” she asked, offering him her arm for support.

He nodded and rose slowly from the tub, water streaming down his body. She helped him dry off with clean cloths and then guided him toward the bedroom.

Now for the real work.

She helped him settle against the pillows, noting how his breathing remained shallow and careful.

While he rested, she gathered her supplies from the kitchen—honey from the larder, clean water, and strips of linen she’d torn from one of the abandoned sheets. She had also managed to make some salve for his bruises.

“What are you planning to do with all that?” he asked, eyeing her supplies with suspicion when she returned.

“Take proper care of you,” she said firmly. “No arguments.”

She worked slowly and delicately, careful not to hurt him. She cleaned each injury and applied honey to the worst of the cuts before beginning to wrap his ribs with the linen strips.

When she finished, she sat back to examine her work. The binding was neat and secure, and all his other wounds were covered as well.

“Better?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

“Much,” he admitted. “Thank you.”

Then she brought him the nightshirt and helped him into it, being careful not to jar his injured ribs.

“Rest now,” she said softly. “I’m going to clean myself up.”

She took her own clothing—the simple shift she’d selected from the trunk—and retreated to the dressing chamber. It took her a while to empty the bath and fill it with clean, warm water.

But she relished lying in the bath before cleaning herself properly.

She had even fallen asleep in it a couple of times.

Once she cleaned herself, she folded all their bloodstained clothes and set them aside. They would need to be washed or burned—she hadn’t decided which yet.

The shift that had once belonged to some unknown woman felt strange against her skin, but it was clean, soft, and faintly smelled of dried roses.

When she returned to the bedroom, she found Gideon propped up against the pillows. He wasn’t sleeping.

She lay beside him on the bed, allowing her head to sink into the soft pillow as she moaned in pleasure. She hadn’t felt this comfort in days.

“How do you know about this place?” she asked, her eyes closed.

He hesitated before answering, and when he spoke, she understood why. “This is the house of a criminal,” he said. “I set him up for murders I committed to throw people off my trail.”

Leila opened her eyes in shock and turned to him. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

“What? Were you under the impression that I am an honorable man?” His tone was self-deprecating.

“Honorable enough not to harm innocent people,” she said carefully.

“He was far from innocent,” Gideon huffed, shifting in bed to make himself more comfortable. “I told you, he was a criminal. One of the worst. I don’t feel bad for what I did. Besides, he escaped, just as I predicted he would. He has friends in high places, and he’s as wily as they come. I was watching this tower for his return, just in case he came back. But he didn’t.

“His servants emptied this place as much as they could and left. It’s been bare for months now. I don’t think anyone will be returning here. But I noticed that no one else has come across it, either. No one watches it aside from me. It’s safe.”