Page 37 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

“Aye,” he agreed, and scooped her up out of her chair to carry her to the bed. Once he’d set her down, both men went to work removing the leather Rory had put over the binding, and then unwrapping the linens too.

“Hmm,” Rory said, raising her feet to peer over them. “They are much improved.”

“Aye,” Geordie agreed, looking them over as well.

Rory set her right foot down and began to press on the bottom of her left foot, and then glanced at her face in question. “Does that hurt?”

Dwyn hesitated, and then admitted, “’Tis a little tender in spots, but no’ much.”

Nodding, he set that foot down, raised her right again and began to press on it as he had the first. He paused when Dwyn sucked in a pained breath though.

“That one hurts,” he said sympathetically and Dwyn grimaced, but nodded.

“Ye’ve made it bleed again,” Geordie growled with displeasure.

“Just the large cut, and just a little,” Rory said soothingly as he set the foot back. “It is healing, but no’ quite ready. I think ’twill be fine by tomorrow though. She should be able to stand on it then.”

“So, she canno’ walk yet?” Geordie asked.

“She can put weight on her left foot, but should not use her right yet.”

“So, she canno’ walk,” Geordie pointed out dryly.

“She can stand on one foot to dress though,” Rory pointed out when Dwyn’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “Ye’ll only need carry her to the garderobe and set her down inside the door. She’ll no’ need her sisters to help her in the room itself anymore.”

Dwyn breathed out with relief at that news. It was almost better than walking when she thought about it. She could continue to enjoy being in Geordie’s arms when he carried her around, but would now avoid the embarrassment of needing help in the garderobe. She could hop to the bench herself from the door, and stand on one foot while she pulled her skirts up. Aye, this was better.

“I shall leave the salve and fresh linens fer ye to replace on the still-tender foot after her bath, Geordie. But,” he added, eyeing Dwyn sternly, “ye must wear yer slipper on the unbandaged foot for the next little while until ’tis completely healed. The cuts have all scabbed over or healed altogether now, and the chance of infection is small at this point, but better no’ to take risks.”

Rory waited until Dwyn nodded obediently, and then he stood. “I’ll leave ye to yer bath, then.”

“Thank ye, Rory,” Geordie said, standing to see him out. He didn’t just see him out, but followed him out into the hall. When the two men paused briefly to speak, Dwyn turned her attention to the bath being prepared for her. The men who had carried in the tub had left while Rory had examined her feet, as had a good half of the women after dumping their water in. The remaining women would soon be gone too, she saw as they emptied their pails into the quickly filling tub and turned to trudge out one after another, their empty pails swinging from their hands.

There were only two left in the room when Geordie finished talking to his brother and came back into the room, and one of them was already walking toward the door. The younger woman smiled from Dwyn to Geordie and then slid out through the door Geordie was holding open. Dwyn then turned to the older woman as she finished emptying her pails and made to start across the room. She returned the smile Dwyn gave her and then her footsteps slowed and she glanced uncertainly from her to Geordie and back, a small frown bringing lines to her forehead. “I should have arranged for one o’ the maids to stay behind to help Lady Innes bathe. But I can help if—”

“Nay, ’tis fine, Mavis. I will help Dwyn with her bath,” Geordie said quietly.

The woman’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping with shock, and she swung her head toward Dwyn, who was just as wide-eyed and agape with shock. The two gaped at each other with dismay for a moment, and then Geordie said, “Thank ye, Mavis. Ye may go.”

The woman looked as if she might argue, but then something in Geordie’s expression gave her pause and she merely mumbled, “I hope ye ken what ye’re doing, lad,” and rushed from the room, leaving Dwyn to stare at Geordie, her face hot with what she felt sure was a blush as she watched him close the door behind the woman and then turn to move back toward her.

Forcing herself to close her mouth, she cleared her throat, and then said nervously, “Ye were jesting, surely, m’laird? I’m sure even now Rory is sending me sisters up to help . . .” She let the words trail away when he began to shake his head. “Ye were no’ jesting?” she asked weakly.

Pausing in front of her, he took in her expression and said, “I want to marry ye, Dwyn. I want ye fer me wife. Agree to marry me.”

“Aye,” Dwyn breathed, and then blinked and shook her head when his face broke out in a smile and he reached for her. “I mean, nay, m’laird.”

Geordie paused, surprise crossing his face. “Nay?”

“Ye do no’ want to marry,” she reminded him miserably. “And I’ll no’ let yer brother force ye to marry me just because someone witnessed what we did in the orchard and tattled to him. Ye’d hate me fer it if I allowed that.”

Geordie relaxed and bent to clasp her by the waist to lift her up off the bed. “Kneel,” he instructed as he lowered her again, and Dwyn automatically bent her legs to kneel as he set her back down facing him on the edge of the bed.

“No one tattled to Aulay,” Geordie announced now, setting to work on her lacings. “At least, if they did, he did no’ bring it up before I told him I wished to marry ye.”

“Which ye did because ye feared someone had seen and would tell,” she reasoned.

“Nay,” he corrected gently as her neckline loosened. “Because I want to marry ye, lass.”

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