Page 69 of Bride of the Mad Laird
By then Eilidh had performed a triage and, while the more badly wounded were helped down to the infirmary in the bailey, she asked Lyra to deal with the remaining few who required only minor attention.
The infirmary was sparse, with only two pallets for the sick or wounded to lie on, but it was scrupulously clean and scrubbed, with a fire already blazing in the grate. A large vase of wildflowers on a shelf provided a fresh, comforting, fragrance but did little to cover the metallic smell of blood from the injured men. The groans and indrawn breaths of the injured rent the air.
Tòrr checked upon the young MacGregor lad, who lay on one of the pallets and then did what he could to a man on the other, while timber chairs by the fire were provided for two more.
Lyra arrived as soon as they had finished with the lightly wounded and together she and Eilidh soothed the lad. The blood had already been cleaned from his shoulder but she administered a tisane to deaden his pain, while Eilidh prepared a length of catgut for stitching.
Tòrr was impressed to see the two lasses working together as a quiet, reassuring team, that soon had young Angus stitched and sleeping under a warm woolen rug.
Then the other men were attended to. Eilidh stitched while Lyra cleansed and soothed, until all had beentended and were, finally, resting.
It was only than that Lyra turned her full attention to Tòrr.
He quailed a little under her penetrating gaze, disheveled as he was after the night’s battle. Yet, instead of the disapproval he half-expected, for a fleeting instant he saw a light glittering in her green eyes that told him that... mayhap... she was pleased to see him.
Then her hand shot to her mouth and she gasped. Loudly.
“Laird Tòrr, ye are wounded.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
He shook his head in surprise as she raised a dampened cloth and wiped the blood away.
“’Tis naught, lass.”
Shaking her head she glanced around the infirmary, where some men slept fitfully, others were slumped, groaning, heads or arms bandaged.
“It may nae be a deep as some, but it needs attention nevertheless.” He grinned, but did not protest as she directed him to sit in the one remaining chair.
He sat still while she cleaned the wound and wiped the dried blood from his neck
She dabbed at the cut, cleansing it with warm water and Eilidh’s special tincture.
Tòrr screwed up his nose. “Ugh. That smells bad.”
She pshawed. “Dinnae be such a wean. Ye may nae enjoy the smell, but it will keep this cut from festering.”
She spread the healing salve over the now clean wound. Tòrr was right, it was only a small cut, but she enjoyed tending to him. After all, he’d shed his blood on her behalf, even if it was a small amount.
“There,” she said, when she was satisfied. “It will heal quickly. Ye were fortunate the brute who did this was too slow, or he’d have taken off yer head.” She shivered.
“Aye, I believe that was what he intended.” Tòrr gave a quick laugh. “Now he’s feeding the crows.”
Her eyes clouded. It was impossible to smile at the thought of what they’d all risked on her behalf.
“I thank ye, Laird Tòrr, fer all ye and yer men have done tae keep me safe.”
Meeting her eyes, he reached for her hand. “Ye’ve gentle fingers, lass.”
He pressed it to his lips and brushed it with the gentlest of kisses. Caught in his darkened gaze Lyra breathed in his manly aroma. He smelled of leather and sweat and an indefinable scent that was his alone. Something passed between them as their eyes met. He held her gaze for a long moment while the flame inside her ignited, sending instant shards of heat coursing through her veins. She sucked in a breath, her fingers curling softly around his, as his eyes grew storm-dark. Her heart hammered against her ribs in a most unseemly manner that she was certain he could hear.
It seemed suddenly impossible to withdraw her hand from his.
Eilidh came bustling up and Lyra hastily pulled her hand away.
“Laird Tòrr, yer men will be well cared fer. Bethia has prepared special broths that will aid their recovery and several lads will be here tae lend their strength tae aid the men.”
She turned to Lyra with a smile. “I am most grateful fer all yer assistance today me lady.”
