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anitabuchanTitle: Loving Care
Fandom: Nigel Tranter's 'The Bruce Trilogy'.
Pairing: Robert Bruce/James Douglas
Rating: 15
A/N: The quote is from the Bruce trilogy. Robert Bruce fell ill with his army in England, and returned to Roxburgh, an occupied castle in Scotland, where James Douglas was conducting a siege.
“Bruce was not aware of his arrival at Roxburgh, where Teviot joined Tweed; nor of the loving care he received at James Douglas’s hands.”
The skin beneath his hands felt hot and fevered. It chapped and flaked, the new skin underneath raw and red. Trailing fingers further down, he felt muscle-covered ribs, beginning to show.
The man he was examining stirred, muttering something under his breath. Jamie leaned forward, eager to catch it. But the man’s voice was too thick and hoarse for him to make out the words. He sat back, disappointed.
Jamie still had no idea why the King had demanded he be brought here, to Jamie’s siege of Roxburgh castle. That morning, a battle-scarred army had ridden in, bringing with them the sick King. Jamie had sorted them out as soon as possible, and then rushed here to Robert’s side.
He sometimes wondered if it was wrong of him to think of the King like that. It couldn’t be called proper; Jamie would never dare say the King’s name in public – or even if private! It just wouldn’t be right.
But in his thoughts, Jamie couldn’t stop himself. Every time he thought the word – Robert – he felt thrilled, shivery, as if discovering some great knowledge for the first time.
Feeling daring, Jamie ran his hand up Robert’s chest, till his fingers rested in the hollow of the other man’s throat. He could feel a pulse beating up his fingers, fast and erratic. Frowning, he pressed harder. Robert rolled his head away. Jamie pulled his hand back.
“Robert,” he whispered, feeling brave and giddy. “Robert, wake up.”
It got more response than anything before. The King struggled to open his eyes, jaw tensing. His tongue flicked out, over his top lip. Jamie stared at the moisture it left.
“Elizabeth?” Robert muttered, hand groping the sheets. “Elizabeth?”
Jamie drew back, hurt and bruised, but not knowing why. Wasn’t it natural that the man would ask for his wife? He probably didn’t even know Jamie was here.
“No, Your Grace,” he replied. “Jamie. James Douglas. At Roxburgh.”
That seemed to shock the King. He struggled to sit, gave up and lay still again, and forced open his eyes. “Jamie?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“But…no. No.”
Was the fever causing delusions? “Yes, Sire. James Douglas.”
“No. Jamie. No. You must…” he struggled for breath, chest heaving. “Away! Go! You must not be here.”
Shocked, Jamie stood, obeying before he thought. “But…Sire…”
“No! Away! Not you. Not you, here…”
“Sire, please!” Not him? “Please, don’t send me away. I just want to…”
“Go!” Even sick and fevered, Robert Bruce could still sound commanding enough to make even the strongest-willed jump.
Jamie took a step away. He bit his lip, gnawing at it till he tasted blood. He felt strange, disconnected, as if this all happened to a stranger. A stranger near tears, feeling broken by his King’s rejection. “Sire, please. Let me help. I promise I won’t – ”
“No!” Alarmed by the strain in Robert’s voice, Jamie stepped forward. Robert waved him back again. “I have told you to go!”
Whatever Jamie felt, Robert was the King. To disobey was unthinkable. Digging his teeth deeper into his lip, he turned and left.
Outside, he thought about calling for a drink. His throat ached around a lump so big he thought it must be visible from the outside. But from inside the tent he heard a choked curse, and someone scratching dry skin.
He’d left the balm he’d brought inside. If Robert saw it, would he know what it was? Would he feel strong enough to use it? He had looked so tired…
Jamie paused, torn between finding his own comfort and staying to aid the King. The only thing that even made it a choice was the King’s order. He hadn’t said Jamie shouldn’t go back, but he’d probably meant it.
The decision was easy. Jamie wouldn’t be able to find comfort or sleep while he knew Robert suffered. Even if the other man wanted him gone, he needed Jamie’s help. And Jamie needed to help him.
He waited long enough for the King to fall asleep, ignoring curious stares and the occasional whisper. Then he slipped back inside, watching for any sign of movement.
The King seemed fast asleep, his breathing deep and regular. Jamie regretted waking him at all. What had he been thinking? This was the King! And Jamie had touched him, whispered his name…
Pushing away unwelcome thoughts, Jamie found the salve. A wise-woman had brought it, calling it good for chapped skin and rashes. She’d said it was normally used on babes, but might help the King.
Jamie prayed it would.
He scooped some out, spreading it over the King’s stomach. Robert didn’t respond. Bolder, Jamie began to rub it into the rough skin. He pushed the blanket further down to spread it lower, fingers circling Robert’s navel, dragging through the thin line of hairs that leading provocatively down.
Jamie kept his eyes on his task. He didn’t need to look elsewhere. He’d seen Robert naked before, anyway. Their exile in the Highlands had involved no privacy.
He didn’t think about why he wanted his hands to drift lower. It was safer not.
Shifting in his seat, Jamie slid his hands higher. He took another dollop of cream, working it into Robert’s chest. The hair got in the way, curling round his fingertips. The cream caught in it, refusing to rub properly into the skin below.
Jamie shifted again as his fingers touched puckered nipples. They weren’t chapped, and didn’t need a balm, but Jamie circled them anyway, fascinated by the texture and feel. It was only when Robert moaned that he pulled away.
The other man still slept, to Jamie’s relief. He looked more relaxed now, muscles not so tense. Jamie’s massage, or the balm? Did it matter?
Jamie adjusted his clothes, and replaced the balm on the bed-side table. Would Robert remember this tomorrow? Any of it?
Even if he didn’t, Jamie wouldn’t forget. He felt heart-broken and aroused, and confused about why. Robert’s words had beaten him bloody, inside; but touching the other man’s body had left Jamie squirming and wanting.
Biting his lip, and wincing at the pain, Jamie left, leaving orders for the King to be watched, and anything he asked for to be fetched straight away.
*
A/N: In the books, Robert Bruce believed he had leprosy (in real life, he almost certainly didn't) and responded by trying to refuse contact with others, fearing he would give it to them.
Fandom: Nigel Tranter's 'The Bruce Trilogy'.
Pairing: Robert Bruce/James Douglas
Rating: 15
A/N: The quote is from the Bruce trilogy. Robert Bruce fell ill with his army in England, and returned to Roxburgh, an occupied castle in Scotland, where James Douglas was conducting a siege.
“Bruce was not aware of his arrival at Roxburgh, where Teviot joined Tweed; nor of the loving care he received at James Douglas’s hands.”
The skin beneath his hands felt hot and fevered. It chapped and flaked, the new skin underneath raw and red. Trailing fingers further down, he felt muscle-covered ribs, beginning to show.
The man he was examining stirred, muttering something under his breath. Jamie leaned forward, eager to catch it. But the man’s voice was too thick and hoarse for him to make out the words. He sat back, disappointed.
Jamie still had no idea why the King had demanded he be brought here, to Jamie’s siege of Roxburgh castle. That morning, a battle-scarred army had ridden in, bringing with them the sick King. Jamie had sorted them out as soon as possible, and then rushed here to Robert’s side.
He sometimes wondered if it was wrong of him to think of the King like that. It couldn’t be called proper; Jamie would never dare say the King’s name in public – or even if private! It just wouldn’t be right.
But in his thoughts, Jamie couldn’t stop himself. Every time he thought the word – Robert – he felt thrilled, shivery, as if discovering some great knowledge for the first time.
Feeling daring, Jamie ran his hand up Robert’s chest, till his fingers rested in the hollow of the other man’s throat. He could feel a pulse beating up his fingers, fast and erratic. Frowning, he pressed harder. Robert rolled his head away. Jamie pulled his hand back.
“Robert,” he whispered, feeling brave and giddy. “Robert, wake up.”
It got more response than anything before. The King struggled to open his eyes, jaw tensing. His tongue flicked out, over his top lip. Jamie stared at the moisture it left.
“Elizabeth?” Robert muttered, hand groping the sheets. “Elizabeth?”
Jamie drew back, hurt and bruised, but not knowing why. Wasn’t it natural that the man would ask for his wife? He probably didn’t even know Jamie was here.
“No, Your Grace,” he replied. “Jamie. James Douglas. At Roxburgh.”
That seemed to shock the King. He struggled to sit, gave up and lay still again, and forced open his eyes. “Jamie?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“But…no. No.”
Was the fever causing delusions? “Yes, Sire. James Douglas.”
“No. Jamie. No. You must…” he struggled for breath, chest heaving. “Away! Go! You must not be here.”
Shocked, Jamie stood, obeying before he thought. “But…Sire…”
“No! Away! Not you. Not you, here…”
“Sire, please!” Not him? “Please, don’t send me away. I just want to…”
“Go!” Even sick and fevered, Robert Bruce could still sound commanding enough to make even the strongest-willed jump.
Jamie took a step away. He bit his lip, gnawing at it till he tasted blood. He felt strange, disconnected, as if this all happened to a stranger. A stranger near tears, feeling broken by his King’s rejection. “Sire, please. Let me help. I promise I won’t – ”
“No!” Alarmed by the strain in Robert’s voice, Jamie stepped forward. Robert waved him back again. “I have told you to go!”
Whatever Jamie felt, Robert was the King. To disobey was unthinkable. Digging his teeth deeper into his lip, he turned and left.
Outside, he thought about calling for a drink. His throat ached around a lump so big he thought it must be visible from the outside. But from inside the tent he heard a choked curse, and someone scratching dry skin.
He’d left the balm he’d brought inside. If Robert saw it, would he know what it was? Would he feel strong enough to use it? He had looked so tired…
Jamie paused, torn between finding his own comfort and staying to aid the King. The only thing that even made it a choice was the King’s order. He hadn’t said Jamie shouldn’t go back, but he’d probably meant it.
The decision was easy. Jamie wouldn’t be able to find comfort or sleep while he knew Robert suffered. Even if the other man wanted him gone, he needed Jamie’s help. And Jamie needed to help him.
He waited long enough for the King to fall asleep, ignoring curious stares and the occasional whisper. Then he slipped back inside, watching for any sign of movement.
The King seemed fast asleep, his breathing deep and regular. Jamie regretted waking him at all. What had he been thinking? This was the King! And Jamie had touched him, whispered his name…
Pushing away unwelcome thoughts, Jamie found the salve. A wise-woman had brought it, calling it good for chapped skin and rashes. She’d said it was normally used on babes, but might help the King.
Jamie prayed it would.
He scooped some out, spreading it over the King’s stomach. Robert didn’t respond. Bolder, Jamie began to rub it into the rough skin. He pushed the blanket further down to spread it lower, fingers circling Robert’s navel, dragging through the thin line of hairs that leading provocatively down.
Jamie kept his eyes on his task. He didn’t need to look elsewhere. He’d seen Robert naked before, anyway. Their exile in the Highlands had involved no privacy.
He didn’t think about why he wanted his hands to drift lower. It was safer not.
Shifting in his seat, Jamie slid his hands higher. He took another dollop of cream, working it into Robert’s chest. The hair got in the way, curling round his fingertips. The cream caught in it, refusing to rub properly into the skin below.
Jamie shifted again as his fingers touched puckered nipples. They weren’t chapped, and didn’t need a balm, but Jamie circled them anyway, fascinated by the texture and feel. It was only when Robert moaned that he pulled away.
The other man still slept, to Jamie’s relief. He looked more relaxed now, muscles not so tense. Jamie’s massage, or the balm? Did it matter?
Jamie adjusted his clothes, and replaced the balm on the bed-side table. Would Robert remember this tomorrow? Any of it?
Even if he didn’t, Jamie wouldn’t forget. He felt heart-broken and aroused, and confused about why. Robert’s words had beaten him bloody, inside; but touching the other man’s body had left Jamie squirming and wanting.
Biting his lip, and wincing at the pain, Jamie left, leaving orders for the King to be watched, and anything he asked for to be fetched straight away.
*
A/N: In the books, Robert Bruce believed he had leprosy (in real life, he almost certainly didn't) and responded by trying to refuse contact with others, fearing he would give it to them.