Page 17 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

“Aye,” Aulay said, and walked with him to the stairs, adding, “A messenger arrived today. Yer brothers should be back the day after tomorrow.”

Geordie arched an eyebrow at that as they started up the steps. “Why bother sending a messenger if they would be practically on his heels?”

“I gather the man was sent several days ago, but ran into trouble on the way. He was fine,” Aulay added before Geordie could ask. “But his horse was killed and he had to walk quite a way ere meeting up with a slow-moving merchant who was kind enough to allow him to ride on his wagon with him. I loaned him a horse for the return journey.”

“Rory was attending the labor o’ Lady Ferguson, was he no’?” Geordie asked.

“Aye.”

“Well, then, I hope ye kissed yer horse fare-thee-well ere ye sent it off,” he said dryly. “Ye ken those bastards’ll just keep it.”

Aulay shook his head. “They’ll no’ start a war with us o’er a horse. He’ll return it.”

“Oh, aye. We have influence and eight armies at our back,” Geordie said with a shake of the head.

“Exactly,” Aulay said with a grin, and opened his mouth to say something else, but paused abruptly as a cry of pain reached them from the upper floor.

They were only a couple of steps from the landing, but both men hurried up them and looked along the hall to see what had caused that sound. Geordie’s eyes widened, his heart slamming into his chest, when he saw Dwyn on the floor near the garderobe. Even as he recognized the spray of golden hair around her, she planted her hands on the floor and pushed her upper body halfway up and then twisted her head to peer back toward her feet, her long hair falling to curtain her breasts as they bulged from her top.

“Dwyn.” Rushing forward, Geordie started to kneel next to her and then paused when he saw the broken glass littering the floor around her and noted the bloody cuts on her bare feet. Then he bent to scoop her up, asking, “Did ye drop a goblet, lass?”

“Nay. I just came out o’ the garderobe and stepped on it,” she said on a sigh, and he couldn’t help noticing that her drawing the breath in and then pushing it out had her breasts creeping upward out of her gown again. He was beginning to love her gowns, Geordie acknowledged.

“Ye stepped on an unbroken goblet and it shattered?” Aulay asked as he reached them.

“Oh, nay. It was already broken and all over the floor when I came out,” she explained quickly. “I meant I just stepped on the broken pieces. They were no’ there when I went into the garderobe,” she added with a frown, glancing down at the glass strewn across the floor. “Someone must have broken it while I was in there. No doubt they went to fetch a maid to help clean it up.”

Aulay grunted at that and moved to Geordie’s side to lift Dwyn’s feet and examine them.

“I am sure they are fine, m’laird,” Dwyn murmured with embarrassment. “And ’tis me own fault anyway. I should have put me slippers back on ere I left our room.”

“There should no’ be glass all o’er the floor either,” Aulay said grimly, and then let her feet go and glanced at Geordie. “Bring her to our room. Jetta will want to get the glass out and see her bandaged.”

“Oh, no!” Dwyn cried with alarm. “Just take me to me room and me sisters can tend it.”

“Nay,” Aulay said abruptly, and then added, “Jetta has been learning from Rory. She will insist on seeing to them herself, and if we take ye to yer room, she’ll just go there the minute she learns what has happened. Better to go let her care for them straightaway,” Aulay said firmly.

“Oh, that’s . . .” Her protest ended on a sigh as Geordie gathered her closer to his chest and followed Aulay down the hall. He’d lifted his arm slightly as he pressed her against himself, so that her chest was against his. He’d had to. Staring down at her swelling breasts pushing out of her gown was affecting him as much as touching and suckling them had and he didn’t want to embarrass his sister-in-law by walking into the master’s bedchamber with his cock pushing his plaid out like a traveling tent.

“Just let me see that she is still dressed,” Aulay said as he slid into the room. Jetta was apparently decent, because Aulay didn’t even close the door, but simply warned his wife that they had company as he swung the door the rest of the way open and stepped out of the way.

“What is— Oh, Dwyn, you are bleeding,” Jetta cried, hurrying toward them as Geordie carried her into the room.

“Aye. Someone broke one o’ Mother’s glass goblets in the hall and Dwyn stepped in it coming out o’ the garderobe,” Aulay explained.

“Oh, dear,” Jetta muttered as she quickly glanced over Dwyn’s feet, then she turned and rushed to a chest against the wall, and began to dig through it. “Set her on the bed, Geordie. Aulay, can ye ask a maid to fetch me boiled water? Oh, where are the bandages Rory prepared for me ere leaving? I know I put them in here somewhere.”

Smiling faintly, Geordie carried Dwyn to the bed as Aulay left the room. He set her down gently, straightened, glanced around to see that Jetta was still digging in her chest and turned back to quickly tug up the neckline of Dwyn’s gown to better cover her nomadic breasts.

Caught by surprise, Dwyn gasped, and then flushed bright red and muttered, “Thank ye,” as he released the material.

“Me pleasure,” Geordie said with a grin, but the truth was he would rather tug the material down. The woman was on a bed, after all. However, he wouldn’t dare do something like that with Jetta just feet away.

“Here we are,” Jetta said brightly, hurrying back to the bed, her arms full of bandages, a bag with what he presumed were medicinals and a spool of thread with a needle in it.

“Oh, surely I do no’ need stitches,” Dwyn said with alarm when she saw what the woman carried.

“I hope not,” Jetta said solemnly as she moved around Geordie to set her items on the table next to the bed. “But one of the cuts is bleeding quite freely, and ’tis better to be prepared.”

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