Page 4 of Highlander's Caged Rose
“I am sorry to intrude like this, My Laird, but I promise to be gone as soon as I can.”
To her surprise, he shook his head. “There is no need for haste,” he told her. “You may stay for as long as it takes you to recover.” He leaned over the bed and looked at her keenly. “Why were you riding alone at night, lass? It seems like a very dangerous thing for a young woman to be doing.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Were you running away from something—or someone?”
Moira hesitated. Should she trust him? What if he was just another abuser like her father and husband? She had to be cautious; her husband’s brother was probably looking for her.
She nodded, looking down at her hands to avoid his alluring eyes. “Aye, My Laird. I was trying to escape from my betrothed; he is a cruel beast, and I am absolutely terrified of marrying him.”
Moira’s tone was bitter as she told her lie, but the emotion inside her was genuine as she thought of her husband’s treatment. Husband, betrothed—what did it matter? Cruelty was cruelty.
“He had me imprisoned in his house until the wedding was over, but tonight I was able to get away. I thought I had managed to escape before the bandits attacked me. I don’t know what would have happened to me if your men had not come along and rescued me. Thank you, My Laird, I think I owe you my life.”
The Laird studied Moira for a long moment before commenting. When he spoke, his voice was trembling with anger. “I am deeply sorry this happened to you, Mistress.”
He watched as her expression turned to one of relief, but her eyes were full of tears, and he realised that she was in shock. He knew this because he had seen it many times in men who had come from a battlefield where they had seen blood spilled and violence beyond their capability to cope with it. It affected them whether they had seen it or inflicted it; indeed, he had suffered from it himself more than once.
Now he was gazing at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, looking almost like some magical creature from a fantasy story. He could not stop himself from staring at her pale, porcelain skin and silver blonde hair, her large pale blue eyes and full, Cupid’s bow mouth that was begging to be kissed. It was a very long time since a woman had had such an effect on him, and he felt his traitorous male body begin to betray him.
Then he chided himself for being so stupid; after all, he had just met the woman. Her beauty might be covering a black heart full of treachery. She might turn out to be a spiteful shrew who was only interested in his wealth and status. After all, he had a lot to offer; wealth, property, and a host of servants at her beck and call.
He knew her story about the bandits was genuine because he had been there, but it was a very long time since he had been able to trust anyone. There might be a hundred things about her that he would find repulsive. No, she could stay under his roof for as long as it took her to recuperate, then he would send her on her way.
“Thank you,” Moira said gratefully. She sighed and wiped away her tears with the heels of her hands, then gave him a shy smile. “I feel much better now.”
At that moment, two manservants came in carrying a copper tub, which they placed behind a screen. The Laird stood up, and Moira was struck again by his size. He was a sturdily-built man, but he seemed to take up more than physical space, as if he had an aura around him that made him larger than he actually was.
“I will leave you now,” he told her. “You are in very capable hands.” He gave her a slight bow, turned and walked away, pausing at the door to have a word with Sandie. She nodded and smiled at him before he left.
“What did he say to you?” Moira asked curiously.
“He told me tae let him know if your condition became worse,” Sandie replied. “He is a very kind man, although he does his best tae hide it. He seems very fierce, but he has a heart o’ gold. We a’ love him.” Then she winked. “An’ it is very nice tae have such a handsome Laird!”
Lying in the bath in the warm scented water, she was finally able to really relax for the first time in months. Were her fortunes changing at last? She hoped so. Then she thought of Laird McPhee. What if he mistreated her, or worse still handed her back to McDonnell? Once more, a tide of panic swept over her.
How far away was Baltyre Castle from her previous home? Had she ridden far enough for the two men not to be in the same social circle, or would they know each other? Moira’s heart began to beat so fast that the warm water no longer soothed her, and she started to panic, then wondered if she could possibly ride away that night. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, then called Sandie.
“How soon will it be before I am able to ride again?” she asked.
Sandie’s eyes widened with disbelief, then her expression changed to a deep frown. “Nae less than a week, an’ even then I wouldnae advise it, hen,” she answered. “I would leave it for at least two.”
Moira’s heart sank. Two weeks! No, she decided. Healed or not, she would get out of this place as soon as she possibly could.
Outside, Niall called Finn, his face a mask of rage. “I want you and your best men from the garrison to round up those vermin infesting my land,” he said furiously. “No one should ever have to be concerned about their safety in Baltyre. I will not stand for it!”
Finn looked at his master apprehensively. He knew this tone; when the thugs were caught—God help them!
2
After three days in the sick room, Moira was longing for a chamber of her own. The sick room was comfortable, warm, and clean, but there was no privacy, due to the constant comings and goings.
Meals were brought to her, but Laird McPhee had not come to see her again. She was grateful for everything that was being done for her. The Laird might be very good to look at, but he was still a man, and men were not to be trusted.
Moira rested as much as she could, and gradually the wound on her leg began to heal. Her only problem was boredom, since her active mind was impatient for some stimulation.
After another three days, Sandie inspected her injury and said in a satisfied tone, “Well, Mistress, ye are well on the way tae gettin’ better. This is healin’ very nicely. I will take the stitches out now.”
Moira flinched and drew in a sharp breath, but Sandie, seeing her, patted her on the shoulder and smiled at her. “There are only six stitches here, and it might hurt a wee bit, but it will only be for a wee minute. Stay as still as ye can now.”
Her tone was reassuring, and Moira swallowed nervously and closed her eyes tightly as Sandie cut the stitches with a small pair of clippers. She felt a series of sharp nips, but the pain disappeared almost at once, and she opened her eyes to see Sandie washing her wound before wrapping it securely in a clean bandage. There was no sign of any blood, just clean new skin.
