Taken by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader with android os TXT) 📕

knew.  Some men had been brought back, injured and bleeding though none severely.  It made her wonder what Laird and Rhys might not be telling her.  Then another letter came.  This one delivered with the instructions that she should read it personally and written in square, precise lettering that made the request possible.

 

September 2

Etal has been taken and our encampment has moved once more to a neutral site but a few miles away now.  I cannot leave by King’s command but I beg you to come to me, Scarlett.  This war is a dismal thing.  Only the thought of you brightens my days.  Only the sight of you can cast away the darkness completely.

Also, Patrick has suffered an injury to his leg.  I do not believe his life will be threatened but Patrick asks that you gently forewarn our Plumpy so as to spare us her hysteria by the time you reach us.

Yours, Laird

 

Though his poetic words made Scarlett’s heart leap, she could only shake her head at that last.  War and bloodshed they would take without a second thought but when it came to the truly difficult jobs, they left it to a woman.

They obviously knew Aleizia far better than she did.

Despite a gentle breaking of the news, assurances that everything would be all right, and a shoulder to lean on, Aleizia had been a nervous wreck from the time Scarlett told her of Patrick’s injury until they were well on their way to the new encampment with the supply train the next morning.

She had been in such a state that Scarlett had finally dragged Aleizia from her horse and insisted that they walk the short distance – to Scarlett, that’s all a few miles was – rather than wait on the slow progression of the cavalcade.  Luckily, her quick pace had calmed Aleizia’s nerves or at least wore her out enough that, by the time they found Patrick lounging in a chair before his tent, Aleizia only flung herself against him with a quiet sob.

Patrick stroked his wife’s blond hair with a gentle hand as she lay her head in his lap and smiled up at Scarlett.  “Whatever magic ye worked, lady, ye hae my thanks.  She is far more calm that I imagined.”

Scarlett wanted to point out that Aleizia was only sixteen years old.  An adolescent with too much energy and no outlet for it but only nodded.  “You’re welcome.  Is Laird around?”

“No’ presently, he should be back soon though.”

Scarlett tapped her fingertips against her thighs impatiently.  “How’s the leg?”

“It pains me some,” he admitted, gently patting the side of his thigh.

Beneath the hem of his kilt, she could see a bloodied and horrifically dirty bandage.  She was no doctor.  She hadn’t even played one on TV but that was just wrong.  “Do you, er, do you mind if I take a look?”

“Hae ye experience in nursing?”

Scarlett shrugged.  Her medical knowledge might be limited to what she’d garnered from medical dramas but she couldn’t do worse, could she?

No, she definitely couldn’t, she realized as she peeled the bindings away.  The wound was dirty and already inflamed.  Still gaping despite the crust of scabbing.  Thankful to have a purpose, Scarlett set everyone to work finding clean cloths, needles and thread to stitch the wound, making sure everything was boiled first.

She flushed the wound again and again with their strong whiskey then had Aleizia’s maid, Peigi, do the stitching since Aleizia was again working herself into a panic. Scarlett covered it with a clean linen bandage made from one of Aleizia’s petticoats wishing she had some antibiotic cream.  All she had were a couple acetaminophens she found in her purse, but hopefully combined with her strict instructions for his care, it would be enough to stop the infection.

“Did ye learn all that in the nunnery?”

Scarlett leapt up at the teasing brogue with a wide smile and threw herself into Rhys’ welcoming embrace.  “Are we back to that again?” she teased.  “You’re unharmed?”

“Aye, my dear, I live a charmed life.”

“I know you do.”  Scarlett pulled back with a smile and looked around.  “Where is Laird?”

“He’ll be along soon.  He’s just ha’ing a final word wi’ the King’s council.  Och, dear lass, yer a sight for these weary eyes.”  Rhys drew her close again, bending to kiss her cheek.

From the corner of her eye, Scarlett saw a flash of red and immediately forgot about her friend as she spotted Laird not far away.

Her eyes ate him up hungrily as she took a step in his direction.  He was dirty and bloodied but in one piece.  Looking oh, so alive and dynamic.  Relief swept through her.  He was safe.

Was she a fool to feel such a thrill?

Casting aside her restraint, Scarlett ran to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pressing kisses to his cheek.  He was solid and powerful against her.  Not until that moment did she realize how much she truly missed his presence.  Often so quiet but still so overwhelming.  Wrapping one leg around his thigh, she pressed herself flush against him, seeking his lips but Laird was stiff.  Not returning her kiss just as he had not before he’d left Wark.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes were as frigid as a steel plate when he finally looked at her.  Scarlett was taken aback by the anger reflected there.

“Wow, are you mad?”

A shutter fell over his gaze.  “I’m nae more mad than ye.”

“Not crazy.  Angry,” she clarified. “Are you angry with me?”

“Nay.”

“Are you sure?  You seem angry.”

“I’m no’…”

32

 

“What is this?”

With a sinking feeling, James turned and faced King James and the half-dozen retainers who followed him, including his father, as they appeared behind him.

“Your Grace.”  He stepped away from Scarlett and bowed low, aware that Sir William was watching them with a frown.

“Aren’t ye to wed wi’ my goddaughter soon, Hepburn?” King James asked, raking his eyes down Scarlett with a lingering look at her nearly exposed bosom, since she had once again forsook her parlett.  “Who