Page 42 of Kilted Seduction
“Blood loss more than anything, I think. And the shock o’ the pain and the cold all at once. She’s nae a very large or sturdy lass, fer all she’s in good health. ‘Twas simply too much fer her taedeal with, all o’ that at once. But I’ve medicine that will help her body recover, and when she wakes, we’ll give her as much beef broth and wine as she can take. ‘Twill help.”
“Tell the cooks tae start a pot o’ beef broth, rich with blood and thick with juices for Lady Cameron.” Aedan blinked. He hadn’t realized that Lachlan had followed him. He was glad that he’d remembered Thora’s modesty, in light of that.
Someone, probably one of the men-at-arms, or a servant, ran off to do as he’d commanded. Lachlan Ross fixed his gaze on Thora, then on the healer. “Ye will nae fail tae heal her. She will be well as quickly as possible, or I will ken why.”
With that ominous announcement, the laird of Castle Ross turned and disappeared into the chaos of the courtyard. Aedan heard him issuing orders, but they had nothing to do with him or Thora, so he ignored them. The only thing he cared about was the healer beginning to tend the wound, and Mac taking up a guard position by the door.
He couldn’t remove the wood splinters, not with a healer’s skill, but as soon as the last of them was free, he reached out. “Let me. I ken enough tae wash and bind her wounds. Let me do it, while ye prepare the medicines she needs.”
The healer nodded and rose to begin working. She returned briefly to hand him clean water, and a poultice for the shoulder, then a salve for the cuts, and several lengths of bandages. Aedan took them and used them, all his attention focused on his task.
It was easier to think of what must be done next than to think of what had happened, and why. Easier to think of the task at hand than Thora’s still, pale face, and the slow rise and fall of her chest. Easier to think of the things that needed to be done to restore her to health, than of how close he’d come to watching her die.
Aedan worked, following the healer’s directions and his own limited knowledge, until the wounds were packed, the cuts covered in a thick layer of healing paste, and everything was wrapped in a layer of soft, clean bandages. He tipped tisanes and broth and various medicines down her throat, and made sure she swallowed them safely, and tucked blankets around her to keep her warm. He chafed the frozen limbs to be sure her hands and feet would suffer no injury from the stillness and the chill they’d been exposed to.
Finally, everything that could be done had been done. Aedan sank down against the cot, every part of him aching with weariness. He was vaguely aware of the healer putting a tankard of beer in his hand, and a heavy mug of soup, little more than a thicker broth, and another tankard of mulled wine.
The panic had faded, leaving him feeling more drained than he had since the terrible night he’d been told that his father was dead and he was the laird. Despite the soft murmur in his mind that said he needed to get up, needed to go tell everyone that Thora lived, lassitude held him in place.
As the sun slipped from the sky and the healer moved about the cottage lighting her lanterns, Aedan closed his eyes, rested his head on the cot at Thora’s side, and slept.
Warmth. The first thing Thora was aware of was warmth, and a dull throbbing along the left side of her head, her shoulder, and her arm.
The next thing she became aware of was someone’s hands, cleaning her skin and applying something to the areas that hurt, before wrapping her arm and shoulder in strips of cloth.
She wasn’t wearing any clothing. Or she was, but it had been partially removed somehow. She thought she should be embarrassed by that, but she couldn’t find the strength to care, not with the way her head and her side ached.
Gradually, awareness began to filter back. The woods. The tree. The tree had fallen and she’d shoved someone and then, darkness and pain. And cold.
She was warm now. Had they built a fire, or had someone brought her back to the castle?
She felt exhausted, and a part of her wanted nothing more than to sleep, and stay asleep until the pain was gone. But there was another part of her that was curious. A part of her that wondered why the hands that cared for her seemed so large and firm andcallused. She didn’t recall the healer having hands so large. Or so roughened.
With what felt like a great effort, harder than anything she’d ever done before, Thora managed to crack her eyes open.
Oh. It wasn’t the healer. It was Aedan, tending to her wounds carefully and gently. He looked terrible, and for a moment she wondered if the tree had fallen on him as well. But he didn’t seem physically injured.
Aedan took responsibility for everything. He’d said that before, standing in the darkness of the terrace. Did he feel responsible for her?
She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to, that she’d known there was danger and insisted on acting, that it was her own fault she hadn’t gotten out of the way fast enough. That was the truth after all.
She couldn’t seem to make her tongue work, and the effort made her head ache worse. It took her a moment to remember that she’d been hit in the head.
Head injuries could make speech and thought difficult for a while. And if she thought about it, she could taste the lingering flavors of herbs on her tongue. Medicines, most likely. And something that might be… beef broth?
She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure it mattered. She still felt so tired, and she knew she was safe with Aedan. She didn’t need to worry about that, and her foresight was quiet. No danger there either. She could rest for a while.
Her eyes slid closed, and she drifted in a kind of half-sleep, aware but unable to do much of anything. She was conscious of being given more medicines, and a thick beef broth - blood loss, or to offset the cold? Maybe both, it didn’t matter.
She was vaguely aware of muttering around her, Aedan’s voice alternating with a female she assumed must be the healer. Another man, who might be Mac, or maybe one of Laird Ross’s men? She couldn’t be sure.
The pain was fading, and along with it her desire to try and remain awake. She had a sort of hazy awareness of warmth at her side, and a sense of someone sitting or lying close to her. There was a sense of safety as well, and some part of her thought‘Aedan’.
Then she stopped thinking and allowed the bliss of sleep to carry her away once more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Nay. Nay… please… dinnae… please…” The soft, broken cries roused Aedan out of a sound slumber. He blinked, then sat up.
