Page 5 of Highlander's Caged Rose
“Ye will always have a scar there, Mistress,” Sandie said regretfully, “but I think everythin’ else is fine now, an’ ye should have nae more trouble.”
“Thank you.” Moira reached out to take Sandie’s hands in her own, surprised at how rough they were. Sandie obviously worked very hard. “Thank you, Sandie. You have been so good to me.”
To Moira’s surprise, Sandie blushed. “I am just daein’ my job, hen,” she said. “Nae need tae thank me.”
“You do it very well,” Moira said. “Laird McPhee is lucky to have you.”
“Ye are too kind,” Sandie protested, but she was smiling. “I love what I dae, so daein’ it well isnae too hard.”
“I wish I could do something like this,” Moira told her, somewhat bitterly. “It must be wonderful to know you are so useful.”
Sandie replied nothing, merely carried on with what she was doing for a while before looking up. She smiled at Moira. “I wish a’ my patients were like you. It’s nice tae be appreciated.”
Moira was astonished, and for the first time in a long while she felt warm inside. “Thank you,” she said, with a smile. The small compliment filled her with warmth, and she sighed with satisfaction. Could she possibly hope that her life was improving?
“Now,” Sandie said briskly. “I think we can move ye out o’ here an’ gie ye a room o’ your own because your leg has nearlyhealed up an’ doesnae need me tae bandage it every day. Come back if ye have any bother.”
“It sounds lovely,” Moira said gratefully. She had seen nothing but the same four walls for the last week and was seething with impatience and frustration. Now she could finally plan her escape.
Sandie was immediately called away to see to one of the stable hands, who had been injured by one of the horses. Moira washed quickly, combed her hair then looked at herself in the small cracked mirror, which was the only one she could find.
She had a fading bruise on her forehead, but the pain had gone, although she had more cuts and scratches elsewhere on her body. She looked passable, she thought, although definitely not her best!
Moira presumed that someone was coming to meet her to tell her where to go, but when she had waited for half an hour and no-one had shown up, she began to wonder if she had been forgotten. She did not know her way around the castle and her leg, although healed to a certain extent, was not yet able to bear her weight for a long period of time.
As well as that, she knew that if anyone did come to fetch her, and she was missing she would have no idea where to go, so she decided to move just a little way away from the sick room, but not so far away that she would miss anyone who was looking for her.
Moira was able to go a little way along the corridor outside the sick room, and was surprised to find herself looking out on the area where the guards were training from the window.As luck would have it, Laird McPhee was practising his martial skills with them that day.
She watched, wide-eyed, as he advanced towards one of his guards with a broadsword, admiring the way his powerful muscles flowed and bunched under his skin as he moved. The expression on his face was one of grim determination, his green eyes shadowed by his heavy dark brows. He truly was a magnificent specimen of manhood; indeed, she could not take her eyes off him.
His opponent was forced backwards by the Laird’s sheer strength and finally surrendered. After that, the two men laughed and shook hands, then moved on to other battles. Moira had always been of the opinion that men fought battles simply because they loved aggression and violence, while women did not.
However, she knew that there was a difference between this friendly rivalry and the kind of bullying to which she had been subjected her whole life. Although she was glad, she was a woman, she had often thought that she would love to try being a man for just one day so that she could have fought back against her husband and father. How she would love to have broken both their noses with a well-placed fist!
Then suddenly, as he turned, the Laird looked up and caught her eye. Their gazes held each other for a moment, as if unable to let go. For a second, Moira thought he was going to approach the window she was standing by, then he changed his mind and walked away in the opposite direction.
For some reason, Moira felt disappointed, then chided herself for feeling that way. Even if Niall McPhee cared to ask her how she was feeling, she reminded herself that he was a man, and men were never to be trusted. She dared not even think of the damage he could do to her.
She sighed and made her way back to the sick room, resigned to a long wait, but had not been there for more than a few moments when she heard the door opening. Expecting to see Sandie, she looked up and smiled, but her gaze met that of a kindly looking old man instead. He had receding grey hair and faded blue eyes, and had obviously been quite tall, but now he was a little stooped.
Moira frowned, puzzled.
“Mistress Jamieson?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Moira answered. “And you are?”
“Gerald McNicholl,” he replied. “I am one of Niall’s councillors. He has invited you to stay as his guest, and has given you a bedchamber of your own. Let me show you.”
Moira’s leg was beginning to pain her again, but she obediently followed the man, who helped her climb stairs and open doors. At last, they arrived in a room that could not have been more suited to her had she designed it herself.
It was not too big, but was beautifully appointed, with a marble fireplace, silk brocade curtains and polished mahogany furniture. The bed was classically beautiful, its headboard and posts intricately carved, its mattress and pillows clad in maroon silk. Around the walls Moira could see a variety of paintings; portraits, landscapes, and still lives, all rendered with great skill.
“Does it meet with your approval?” the old man asked, smiling.
“It does,” Moira replied, smiling happily. “It’s one of the most beautiful rooms I have ever seen.”
McNicholl ushered her into a seat by the window and Moira sat down, feeling somewhat awkward as he took the chair beside her. What did he want to say to her?
