Page 58 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
“I’ve remembered everything. When I saw that man, the Laird MacKinnon, all the memories that lay hidden away in the depths of me mind, haunting me, making me afeared, came rushing back in the instant before I was struck the blow that rendered me senseless.”
“Are ye saying ye can recall yer life before Iona?”
“Aye. All of it. I recall everything. I wish tae tell it tae ye…” She plucked at his sleeve in agitation. He could see that to speak of it now would sap what little remaining strength she had
“Nay, hush. Dinnae speak of it now. It will tire ye. The right time tae tell me yer story will be when ye’re warm and safe at Kiessimul Castle.”
He did not say what he wished. “… when ye’re warm and safein me armsat Kiessimul Castle.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Davina had only the patchiest recollection of her kidnapping and the return to Castle Kiessimul. She recalled her great fear, and the joy she experienced when she regained consciousness and found it was Everard who loomed over her, with the gentlest expression in his eyes.
She’d drifted in and out of sleep, aware once or twice of some kind soul spooning broth into her mouth.
Opening her eyes, she was astonished to find herself in her nightshift, her head on soft feather pillows. The air was scented with lavender and the peaty, smoky smell of a fire in the hearth. The bed was the softest, plushest, billowy down she’d ever experienced. Crimson velvet drapes surrounded it, making it impossible for her to see the room she was in.
One thing she was certain of, this was not her little cottage. Even as she pondered this, there came a plaintive ‘meow’ and Feather leaped up beside her. She chuckled. “Ah. I am at Kiessimul, little soul. And this bed has a familiar feel tae it.”
Then came that deep honeyed-voice, sending ripples of delight along her spine. “Lass, ye’re awake at last. May I draw the drapes aside?”
“Aye,” she said, suddenly shy. Making a feeble attempt to smooth her hair, she was surprised to find it was free of tangles. Someone must have combed it while she slept.
The velvet hangings were pulled aside and there was Everard, grinning down at her. He held a small pewter tray with a goblet that he handed to her before taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside her.
She took the drink gratefully and gulped some before placing it on the tray. “I ken this is yer bedchamber. How long have I been here, me laird? I ken it is more than one night?”
“Ye’ve slept a whole day and night away.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I am more than grateful fer saving me from the clutches of those men.” She looked around, almost fearfully. “What became of them?”
Everard shook his head as if this was of no concern. “The two ruffians will never trouble ye or anyone again.”
She levered herself into a sitting position, clutching the linen sheets and the fur quilt to her chest. “But what of the MacKinnon? Daes he still live?”
“If I’d had me way, he’d be feeding the fishes even as we speak.” He shook his head, a look of regret in his eyes. “But when I had tae choose between yer life and his, I chose yers. And the villainous rogue made it away in his birlinn.”
He handed her the cup again. Sipping daintily, she finished the lavender-flavored water.
“I thank ye. I am fair parched. This is good.” After replacing the empty cup on the tray she sank back against the pillows. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “So after ye fished me out of the water, ye carried me back tae the castle and took care of me.” Cheeks flushing with heat she looked down at the night-shift, realization dawning. “Someone took undressed me and clad me in me night attire?”
He nodded, “Aye. Mildred and I took care of yer torn and wet kirtle and tunic. Mildred went tae the cottage and brought yer nightshift and this wee one.” He gestured at Feather, who had curled up on the pillow and was washing her paws.
“And ye? Did… ye… see me… without me kirtle and petticoat?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Only the smallest glimpse of ye was I allowed after I’d sliced through yer torn garment. Mildred made me turn away. So…” His eyes roamed her face, “there’s nae need fer those blushing cheeks. I saw only an inch of yer satiny skin.”
She felt the burn in her face. She looked up at him from under her lashes, a smile curling her lips.
He reached a hand and stroked her wrist offering a mischievous grin. “I’d have liked tae look upon all of ye, but Mildred wouldnae stand fer it.”
She liked his boldness. His words started that strange thrumming in her veins. The same feeling she’d had just before he’d kissed her at the archery butt. Only this time it felt as if all her body had caught the sparks from the fire and was igniting bit by bit.
“And, did ye comb me hair?”
“Aye. I helped Mildred tae wash the salt from yer locks. She rinsed ye with lavender and left me tae dry it wi’ linen towels. I ran yer ivory comb through yer tangled tresses and smoothed it with scented oil.”
He reached a hand and took a strand of her long hair between his fingers and raised it to his lips. “’Tis sweet wi’ lavender.”
