The Highlander Takes a Bride (28 page)

Alick straightened slowly, grimaced as he faced them and said helplessly, “She jumped.”

“What do ye mean?” Greer asked sharply. “Were ye no’ holding her?”

“She just . . .” He waved one hand weakly. “I thought Conran had her other arm. I only let go fer a minute and she threw herself out the opening.”

“Sorry. I thought ye had her,” Conran muttered. Moving to peer over the edge now, he released a low whistle. “She made a muckle mess.”

“And here I thought old bats could fly,” Geordie muttered.

Saidh bit her lip at the comment and glanced to Greer’s face. His mouth opened, closed, then he just shook his head and turned to carry her into the passage.

The stairway was in darkness, which explained how they’d opened the passage door without drawing attention. Saidh remained silent as Greer traversed the steps, concerned about distracting him and their plunging down the damned things. But once they were off the stairs the entire length of the passage was lit by torches every few feet.

“Look on the bright side,” Saidh murmured as he turned down the passage leading to the master bedchamber. “Now we no longer need deal with her.”

“Aye,” Greer muttered. “And mayhap ye’ll stop getting yerself shot and stabbed.”

“ ’Tis no’ as if I went looking to be shot and stabbed,” Saidh pointed out irritably. “And, she is
your
aunt.”

“Was,” he corrected dryly.

“Was,” she agreed as he carried her through the open passage door into the master bedchamber.

Chapter 19

“S
et her on the bed so I can look at her back.”

Saidh glanced over Greer’s shoulder at that order from Rory as they entered the master bedchamber. He and the rest of her brothers were now filing into the room behind them. She hadn’t realized the others had followed, but supposed she should have known they would. Turning back as Greer headed for the bed, Saidh protested, “No’ the bed. The day after I took the arrow, me new lady’s maid, Joyce, told me the maids were squawking about no’ being able to get the blood out o’ the linens.”

“I’ll put her in the chair,” Greer announced, turning that way, only to pause when Rory protested.

“I’ll no’ be able to get to her back there.”

Greer muttered something under his breath, and walked over to plop her bottom down on the table between the two chairs by the fire instead. “There. Will this please both o’ ye?”

“Aye,” Rory announced, glancing up from retrieving several items from his satchel.

“Aye,” Saidh murmured and then watched as Greer began to pace the room like a caged tiger.

“Something’s got into him,” Dougall murmured, pausing beside her.

“Aye,” Aulay agreed solemnly and then handed Alpin to Niels and said, “Take him to the room next door. Rory can look him o’er there after he tends to Saidh.”

Niels hesitated, but then pointed out, “Fenella’s still in there.”

Grimacing at the reminder, Saidh peered at Alpin’s sleeping face and suggested, “Take him to Fenella’s room then.”

Niels nodded and carried the boy out.

“Geordie,” Aulay said now. “Go find Fenella’s maid and ask her to select a couple o’ women to help her prepare Fenella fer burial.”

“I think as lady here, I should probably be helping with that,” Saidh muttered reluctantly. It wasn’t exactly something she looked forward to. She’d only done it once before, with her own mother.

“Ye’re in no shape fer it,” Aulay said simply and waved Geordie out of the room, before turning to Conran. “Take Alick and go see what ye can do about Lady MacDonnell.”

“Do?” Conran asked dubiously. “She’s dead.”

“Aye,” he said dryly. “So, mayhap ye could get her out o’ the bailey?”

“Oh, aye,” Conran muttered, and led Alick out of the room. Neither man looked pleased at being tasked with the chore. But since they were the ones who had been lax enough in their duties to let her jump, it was only fair they clean up their mess.

Rory finished fussing in his satchel then and came over to the table where Saidh sat. He scowled when he saw her just sitting there.

“Why are ye still wearin’ yer dress?” he asked with irritation.

“Possibly because we are still here,” Aulay pointed out dryly.

“Well, get out,” Rory said at once. “I need to clean and bandage her back where Lady MacDonnell stabbed her, and then probably sew up her arrow wound again, if the blood on her gown is anything to go by.”

“Aye, we’re leaving,” Aulay assured him. “I just wanted to be sure to tell ye to be quick about tending her. I think MacDonnell needs some time alone with his wife.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes,” Rory said dryly. “I’ll no’ ha’e her die from this wound jest because I rushed so she could talk to MacDonnell.”

“What do me husband and I need to talk about?” Saidh asked with concern, wondering if something had happened while she’d been in Lady MacDonnell’s clutches.

“Leave,” Rory said firmly, before Aulay could answer. “I need to tend to her.”

Saidh scowled at him and then said to Aulay, “Stay. Rory has me so wrapped up in linen ’tis as if I’m dressed anyway.”

“Saidh,” Rory snapped. “Take off yer dress or I’ll cut it off.”

“Well, cut it off then,” she snapped back, and then muttered, “It hurts to move much anyway.”

“Oh. O’ course it does,” Rory said, calming somewhat. “I’m sorry. I should ha’e realized.”

Saidh shrugged and glanced to Aulay in question as Rory retrieved a knife and began to cut away the top of her gown. “What did ye want to say?”

“I jest . . .” He hesitated, looking uncomfortable, and then sighed and asked, “What are yer feelings fer MacDonnell?”

Saidh stared at him blankly and then asked, “What? Why? What’re ye—?”

“I think he loves ye, lass,” Aulay interrupted, looking truly uncomfortable now.

“Aye,” Saidh said.

Aulay raised his eyebrows. “Aye? That’s it? Aye?”

“What else should I say?” she asked with a frown. “ ’Tis no’ a surprise. He already told me that.”

“Oh.” He looked surprised and then asked. “And what did ye say?”

“Nothing,” she admitted.

“The man tells ye he loves ye and ye say nothing?” Dougall growled, looking horrified.

“Well, I did no’ get the chance to say anything,” she snapped. “It was while we were talking to Bowie and—”

“All right, all right. Do no’ fash yerself,” Aulay soothed, glancing toward Greer. Following his gaze, Saidh saw that her husband had stopped pacing and was eyeing them suspiciously from across the room.

“ ’Tis no wonder he’s so fashed,” Dougall muttered, once Greer started to pace again. “He’s declared himself and no’ yet received one in return.”

“Do ye love him, Saidh?” Rory asked curiously as he worked. He’d sliced her gown away from the waist up, but had tucked a bit of cloth over the little bit revealed of her uninjured breast she saw. Now he moved around to clean the stab wounds on her back.

“Well, do ye?” Dougall asked when she didn’t answer right away.

Saidh shrugged helplessly. “I do no’ ken. How do ye ken if ye love someone?”

Aulay considered the question and then asked, “Do ye enjoy consummatin’ with him?”

Saidh smiled faintly. “I want to punch him e’erytime he kisses me.”

“What?” Rory barked, straightening and coming around in front of her to see her face.

“Well, that’s how it feels,” she said helplessly. “O’ course, I do no’ do it. ’Tis jest that he fair makes me blood boil with his kisses and I want to . . .” She shook her head. “But I do no’ hit him and then he starts in touching and thrusting and me head fair explodes and I do no’ want to hit him anymore.”

“Ah,” Rory said weakly and moved around back of her again to return to work.

Saidh glanced to Aulay and frowned when she saw the amusement on his face. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, clearing his expression.

“So does she like it or nay?” Dougall asked, appearing uncertain.

“Aye,” Aulay assured him dryly.

“Then why does she want to hit him?” Dougall asked. “It seems an odd reaction if she’s liking it. And it can no’ be healthy fer her head to explode.”

Aulay turned to him with disbelief. “Ha’e ye e’er e’en lain with a woman, Dougall?”

“O’ course I ha’e,” he snapped. “But I ha’e ne’er wanted to hit one while doing it, and me head certainly does no’ explode. At least no’ the head on me shoulders,” he added with a grin.

“She does no’ mean she really wants to hit him, or that her head really explodes, Dougall,” Rory said with exasperation behind her.

“Well, then why did she say it?” Dougall asked with a frown.

“She means . . . I’ll explain later,” Aulay said with a grimace, and then turned back to Saidh. “Is there anything else ye like about him?”

“Oh, aye. He’s got a pretty . . . arse,” she finished, saying
arse
instead of
face
as her gaze landed on Aulay’s scars and she recalled his self-consciousness about it.

“What does it matter if his arse is pretty?” Dougall asked with disgust as Rory made a sound that might have been a laugh, or just as easily could have been a cough.

Saidh scowled and rushed on, “And I like to talk to him. He’s verra clever. I like the way he thinks. And I like when he fusses o’er me.”

“Ye do?” Rory asked with surprise, beginning to bind her waist to cover the wounds he’d just cleaned. It seemed to have gone quickly, and hadn’t been too painful, but she had been distracted.

“Ye jest get angry when
we
fuss,” Dougall grumbled.

“Aye, well, he does it different,” she said dryly. “He makes me feel like he cares, no’ like he thinks me weak.”

“If the castle was on fire, who would ye rescue first?” Aulay asked suddenly.

“Alpin,” she said at once. “He’s weakest.”

“No’ MacDonnell?” he asked with a frown.

Saidh snorted. “He’d already be up trying to rescue me.”

Aulay smiled slowly.

“What?” Saidh asked suspiciously.

“Ye trust that ye can rely on him,” he said simply and then turned his back and gestured to Dougall to do so as well to give her privacy as Rory began to cut away the bindings around her chest wound.

“O’ course I trust him,” Saidh said with confusion.

“Saidh,” Aulay said solemnly without turning around. “Ha’e ye e’er before met a man ye thought strong and smart and that ye could depend on?”

“Ye mean besides me husband?” she asked and when he nodded, answered promptly. “Da. You. And Dougall, Rory, Conran, Geordie, Niels—”

“Men who are no’ Buchanans,” Aulay interrupted.

Saidh considered the question. “Mayhap Sinclair. He seems a’right, but most men are puling, lackwitted—Oh,” she said with understanding.

Aulay nodded. “Ye like and respect the man, trust him and enjoy him in bed.”

“She loves him,” Dougall announced, and she saw her brothers grin at each other.

“Aye,” Rory agreed with a smile as he finished cutting away the bandages and began to examine her chest wound.

“I am glad ye do. I like and respect him too,” Aulay said quietly.

“Aye,” Dougall said. “He could ha’e been a Buchanan.”

Saidh smiled, knowing that was the biggest compliment her brother could give.

“Ye’ve made a fine choice fer a husband, sister,” Rory murmured.

“Thank ye,” she whispered and glanced down as he began to replace the bandages he’d cut away with fresh strips of linen. “I do no’ need more stitches?”

“Nay. A couple stitches had torn a bit, but are still holding and already healing. Ye’re a fast healer,” he added, as though congratulating her on an unexpected skill.

Saidh just shook her head and watched as he finished binding her up. By the time he was done, she was pretty much covered from her waist to her neck in bandages with just her arms and one shoulder still on view. He’d even fully covered her uninjured breast this time, she noted mournfully.

“All done,” Rory announced, straightening.

“Then we should leave the two o’ ye alone,” Aulay announced, then bent to kiss her cheek before saying. “Put yer husband out o’ his misery and tell him ye love him.”

“Aye.” Saidh nodded, and then watched her brothers leave, before turning to peer at Greer. He’d stopped pacing to watch them leave as well, his expression unreadable, and Saidh bit her lips, wondering how she should tell him she loved him. Should she just blurt it out, or wait for him to say it again? She wondered and then worried that he might not say it again. He might even regret saying it the first time. Or he might be waiting for her to say it herself, ere repeating it.

“What were ye and yer brothers whispering about o’er here?”

Saidh raised her head at that quiet question and found her husband standing in front of her. He looked . . . She frowned, trying to find the word.
Stoic
was the only one to come to mind, but that was not it. It was more as if he were braced for a blow.

“We were no’ whispering,” Saidh protested, and then admitted, “They were trying to help me sort out if I loved ye.”

That had definitely surprised him, Saidh thought wryly as his jaw dropped to hit his chest. Quickly pulling it closed, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “And? What was the conclusion?”

“That I want to hit ye e’ery time ye kiss me, and would no’ save ye were the castle on fire,” she blurted.

He reacted as if she’d punched him in the gut, stumbling back a step, his face paling. Pulling himself upright, he asked gruffly, “When are they taking ye?”

“Taking me where?” she asked with confusion.

“Home to Buchanan,” he said stiffly.

Saidh shook her head with bewilderment. “Why would they take me to Buchanan?”

“Because ’tis obvious I am a poor excuse fer a husband and can no’ keep ye safe,” he said shortly.

Saidh snorted at the claim, but asked, “That is why ye were pacing so angrily? Ye blame yerself fer me injuries?”

“I am yer husband. I should ha’e kept ye safe,” he said grimly.

“And ye did. Ye saved me and Alpin from Tilda in the bell tower,” she pointed out with a shrug.

“No’ before ye took yet more wounds.”

“Me brothers were watching me when Tilda took me,” she pointed out. “They were also supposed to be guarding me when Alpin and I slipped away to the gardens and got hurt. So, if ye want to blame anyone, blame them.”

“Oy!” The shout came muffled through the door. It was followed by, “We can hear ye! These doors are thin.”

“Then stop pressing yer ears to it and go below. I’m trying to talk to me husband here!” Saidh snapped and heard the shuffle of feet as her brothers moved away from the door. Honestly, they were like a heard of bulls the lot of them, she thought and then glanced back to Greer and said solemnly, “This is me home now. Me brothers ken I love ye. They’ll no’ be taking me anywhere.”

Greer blinked as if uncertain he’d heard her right, or unable to process her words. “Ye love me?”

“Aye. Did I no’ jest tell ye me brothers helped me sort that out?” she asked impatiently.

“Nay. Ye said ye want to hit me e’ery time I kiss ye, and would no’ save me were the castle on fire,” he snapped.

“Exactly,” Saidh said with satisfaction. “That’s how much I love ye.”

“What?” he asked with disbelief. “Ye think the fact that ye’d rather hit me than kiss me and would leave me to die in a burning building means that ye love me?”

“That’s no’ what I meant,” Saidh squawked, and then clucked under her tongue. “And I told them ye were clever.”

“Wife,” he said through his teeth.

Saidh sighed, and shook her head. “I would ne’er leave ye to die in a burning building,” she said with exasperation, and explained, “Aulay asked me who I would save were the castle on fire, and I said Alpin, ’cause he was weakest. And he asked why no’ you, and I said because ye’d already be up and about trying to drag me out o’ the castle.” She raised her eyebrows. “See? He says that’s a sign that I trust and rely on ye, and I do. Like me da and brothers, ye’re a brave, braugh man with a fine head on yer shoulders. I trust that ye’ll always be there and ha’e me back. I can count on ye.”