by Lynsay Sands
"Aye," Dougall acknowledged.
"How long do ye think it'll be before he looks here? She and Saidh are friends after all," he pointed out.
"Saidh does no' live here anymore," Dougall pointed out.
"Aye, but he may not ken that," Aulay said solemnly. "Besides, you boys were at Danvries when she went missing. That in itself--"
"We had nothing to do with her leaving. I told ye she fled on her own and we merely came upon her on the road," Dougall argued at once.
"But he may not ken that either," Aulay pointed out. "If he arrives ere ye marry her, he'll likely refuse to allow the marriage and take her back."
"We can no' let him get her back," Dougall said grimly, his gaze moving over Murine. She looked so pale and weak in the bed. Mouth tightening, he stood up. There was no profit in it for Danvries if Murine married him. The only chance they had was if they were married before he caught up to them. "I'll have Alick fetch the priest. We'll be married at once."
He started around the bed, but Aulay stepped in front of him, forcing him to a halt. "She's not conscious and apparently Rory gave her a sleeping powder. She could remain asleep all day and through the night as well."
"Then I'll say her I dos for her," Dougall growled, trying to step around him.
"Father MacKenna won't marry ye to an unconscious woman, Dougall," Aulay said grimly, shifting to continue blocking his way.
"If we explain the circumstances--"
"He'll say it must be God's will," Aulay interrupted firmly.
Dougall frowned, knowing what he said was true. Father MacKenna was very devout. He wouldn't marry them unless Murine was awake and alert enough that he was satisfied she knew what was about. Unfortunately, that wasn't likely to be any time soon. And Danvries was probably on his way here even now. In fact, he could be at the gate any minute.
"It's all right," Aulay said now, drawing Dougall's attention from his thoughts. "The boys and I came up with an idea."
"Tell me," Dougall growled.
Dougall was stirring the tincture Rory had given him into some cider when the cottage door opened and Conran leaned in to say, "The boys are saddled up. We're heading out now."
He nodded absently, and then glanced at his brother, "Ask Rory for more of this tincture to build her strength. I'm mixing up the last of it right now."
Conran raised his eyebrows. "Already? He gave ye an awful lot of it. Surely 'tis no' all gone already?"
"Well, it is," Dougall said grimly.
Conran frowned and then stepped inside, pushed the door closed and moved to join him by the table. Peering down at the chunky liquid Dougall was stirring, he pursed his lips and then asked, "Is it supposed to be so . . . thick?"
Dougall scowled at the concoction, but admitted, "I've been doubling the amount of tincture in the cider and then doubling it again since yester eve."
"Ah," Conran murmured and then asked, "Is that wise?"
"It should no' hurt her. It's suppose to build her strength and help her heal," Dougall said with a frown, then growled with frustration, and blurted, "She's been asleep for four days, Conny. I've had to shake her to wake her enough to even drink the tinctures. I needs must build up her strength somehow. She was overly thin to begin with, now she's wasting away before me eyes."
"Aye." Conran clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed briefly. "I'll bring back more and see if Rory will come check on her himself."
"Thank ye," Dougall muttered.
Nodding, Conran turned and moved away to head outside again. Dougall stood still, listening until he heard the sounds of the others riding away from the cottage, then grimaced and set the tincture-filled cider on the table and walked over to sit in the chair next to the bed where Murine rested.
She'd been sleeping for the four days since he and his brothers had brought her here to the family hunting cottage. At first she'd slept because of the sleeping powder Rory had insisted they give her. But Dougall had stopped giving that to her after the second day and yet still she slept like the dead. The last time he'd managed to wake her, he'd asked her how the pain was. She'd mumbled that it was much better, downed the tincture he'd given her and fallen right back to sleep. And when he'd changed the bandage last night, he'd been able to see that it was healing well. Yet still she was hard to wake and couldn't seem to stay awake for more than the time it took to drink the tinctures he gave her.
Dougall was really beginning to worry . . . and not just about her health, although that was constantly preying on his mind. Aside from that, though, he was also concerned that the longer she remained asleep, the higher the chance was that her brother would find them and end any possibility of their marrying . . . which led to another worry plaguing him. Dougall still didn't know if Murine was willing to marry him. Did she want to? What if she didn't?
Sighing, he sat back in his seat and then frowned as he noted the slight chill in the air. It had been threatening a storm when he'd stepped outside earlier that morning to head for a swim in the nearby loch. Now, two hours later, rather than warm up, the day must have cooled further. Nestled in the woods as it was, the cottage was sheltered from sunlight and the room was cold enough that a fire wouldn't go amiss.
Standing, he moved to the fire pit, only to frown when he noted that there were only a couple of logs stacked next to it. They needed more firewood, for cooking as well as to warm the cottage. He glanced to Murine, but she was sleeping peacefully, showing no sign of stirring. It would take only a minute to run out and grab a couple of logs, he thought as he headed out the door.
Murine stirred sleepily and shifted onto her side, grimacing when the bed coverings slipped down off her shoulder, and cool air crept over her in its place. It was chilly this morning, she thought.
Waking up enough to tug the linens and furs back up, she huddled under them briefly and then opened her eyes. Murine blinked in confusion as she took in the alien surroundings. Rather than her bedchamber at Danvries, or even at Carmichael, she found herself peering around a large room with tables and benches, several barrels and chests for storage and a fire pit to cook over. There were also a handful of wooden chairs by a fireplace at the opposite end of the room from the bed she was in and a set of stairs leading up to a second level.
Not recognizing anything, Murine frowned and started to sit up, only to pause with a wince when the action pulled on the skin of her back, sending a sharp pain through her that immediately reminded her what had happened if not where she was. The pain was nothing like the agony she'd experienced when first injured, or even as bad as that she'd suffered for the day or two afterward, but the wound was definitely making its presence known.
Letting out the breath she'd sucked in when the pain first struck, Murine moved more cautiously, easing her way upward with care until she managed to sit up on the side of the bed with her bare feet on the cold wood of the floor. Relaxing a little then, she glanced around again. She was in a hunting lodge. At least that was her guess. It was similar to her father's own hunting lodge. Well, her cousin's now, she acknowledged sadly. At any rate, the walls were decorated with the mounted heads of beasts no doubt caught by the hunters who used this lodge; hart, boar and wolves all stared down at her from every angle.
Now that she realized she was in a hunting lodge, Murine had a vague recollection of a dreadful ride on horseback. She'd woken in agony to find herself once again in Dougall's arms on his mount, and he'd said something about taking her to the Buchanan hunting lodge to keep her safe from her brother until she healed as he'd urged her to drink from a skin of liquid. She didn't remember much more than that, other than a rather jumbled collection of memories of waking in this room ere this and Dougall feeding her one vile concoction after another and speaking to her in low soothing tones. It was all quite fuzzy, but the recollection made Murine realize that she was hungry and thirsty, and she glanced around for Dougall, expecting him to appear with a cider that tasted slightly off.
When he didn't magically appear as h
e had each time she'd woken since Rory had removed the arrow, Murine bit her lip and listened for any telltale sound that might reveal to her whether he was even in the lodge somewhere. Glancing at the steps, she wondered if perhaps he wasn't above stairs, but there wasn't a sound. Surely he was here? He didn't just ride out with her, put her to bed and ride away leaving her to fend for herself?
The question made Murine grimace to herself. Why shouldn't he do just that? Dougall wasn't responsible for her. They weren't kin. And she was the one who had run away from her home and her brother. True, it had been to protect her virtue, but that was not his trouble to worry about.
"Right," Murine whispered and forced herself slowly to her feet. Much to her dismay, her legs began to shake the moment she put weight on them. Dear God, she was as weak as a babe. The realization was a bit alarming and made her wonder how long she'd slept.
The bed was a four-poster with a cloth top and curtains around the sides that were presently open. Worried about falling, Murine grasped the post next to her at the head of the bed and waited for her legs to remember their use, but a chill running up her calves drew her attention to what she was wearing. Her feet were bare, the rest of her covered to her wrists and nearly to her ankles by a thin sleep shirt that wasn't preventing the draft in the room from running over her feet and up her legs under the light cloth.
Spotting what she thought might be one of her leather slippers peeking out from under the bed, Murine eased down to her knees to grab it, relieved to find it was indeed one of her leather slippers. They must have put them on her to travel from Buchanan and then taken them off when they arrived, Murine thought. She supposed they'd then got knocked under the bed in the interim.
She set the first slipper on the bed, then bent ever so slowly forward until she was on her hands and knees so that she could look under the bed. She'd just spotted the second slipper when she heard a door open. A cold draft skittered across the floor and then there was a click as of a door closing and the draft died. Mindful of her back, Murine slowly eased up to sit on her knees and peered around, but there was no one there.
She'd just decided she'd imagined the door opening when she heard a slight rustle from above stairs. She hadn't even paused to grab the second slipper before straightening and yet had taken so long at the task that whoever had entered had gone above before she'd got upright.
Murine grimaced and briefly considered shouting out to them, but they'd realize soon enough she wasn't above stairs and return below. Besides, she still needed to retrieve her second slipper. She was in the process of doing so, ever so slowly leaning down again to reach under the bed, when a second draft blew across her.
"What the devil are ye doing out o' bed?"
Murine started at that bark from Dougall and unthinkingly jerked upright, both actions making her cry out in pain as her back responded unhappily.
"Dammit, Murine," Dougall's voice was a soft growl as he hurried around the bed to scoop her carefully up. As he set her on the linens and furs she'd just left, he added, "Ye'll rip yer stitches. Ye were sorely injured. Ye must be more careful."
"I was being careful," she said irritably as he turned her so that her back was to him. "It's just that ye startled--Nay!" she cried in shock, hurting herself anew by spinning around to grab at the back of her nightshirt as he jerked it up.
"Settle yerself," he muttered, catching her hand and forcing her forward to lie on her stomach, which certainly eased the pain but did nothing for her embarrassment as he pulled her nightshirt up to her shoulders so that he could examine her wound. Very aware that her bare behind was now on display, along with nearly everything above and below it, Murine buried her face in the linens and groaned with dismay. It had been one thing for Rory to see her bare back while tending her wound. It was another thing entirely for Dougall to--
Her mental whine ended abruptly as a thought occurred to her and she turned her head, trying to glare at him over her shoulder as she barked, "Who took off me gown and put me in this nightshirt?"
"Rory called in a couple maids to change ye when he finished binding ye," Dougall answered absently, and then muttered, "Ye're no' bleeding through the bandage, but I'll need to remove yer wrappings to be sure . . ."
When his voice trailed off, Murine glanced over her shoulder to see what was wrong and noted that his gaze had found and apparently been halted by the sight of her naked bottom. He was gaping at it with fixed fascination. When he suddenly licked his lips as if gazing upon a tasty pastie and then started to bend down as if intending to take a bite, Murine snatched up as much of the linens and furs beside her as she could and dragged them across her bottom and legs to hide them.
Dougall immediately blinked and straightened. "Sorry," he muttered, dropping the hem of her shift. Turning away, he growled, "I'll fetch fresh bindings."
Murine opened her mouth to say she didn't want him to change her bandages, but then let her mouth close on a sigh. Her bottom was covered now and she truly did not want to go through this again. It was better to let him do it now and get it over with, she decided and simply turned her no doubt red face into the furs and waited for it to be over.
She listened silently as Dougall moved around the large room, but when he seemed to take an extremely long time, she turned her head and opened her eyes to see what he was doing. She found him at the fireplace. As she watched, he finished stacking logs over a collection of moss and bark and then used a fire steel to light the kindling. When he then straightened and moved to a bag on one of the tables to fetch the bindings and salves he intended to use on her, Murine closed her eyes and waited for the heat from the fire to begin to warm her.
"How long ago did ye wake?" Dougall asked as he approached the bed with everything he would need to tend her.
"Just moments ago," Murine said quietly, and asked, "We're at yer family's hunting lodge?"
"Aye," he murmured as he set the items he'd collected on the bedside table.
"Is Henry--?"
"Safe and sound at Buchanan," he assured her and then settled on the side of the bed, announcing, "I need to cut yer old bindings away. I'm going to ease yer nightgown up to yer shoulders to get it out of the way first, though."
Murine merely nodded and then held her breath as he eased the thin cloth up her back. She was safely covered by the furs and linens from the waist down; still, it felt odd letting him see her naked back like this, she thought and grimaced when he held the material up by the back of her neck with one hand as he examined the wound. After a hesitation, she tugged the cloth over her head so it was only covering her arms and the tops of the shoulders, but the rest of the material was now gathered under her chin. It freed him from having to hold it.
"I'm going to start cutting," Dougall announced. "Don't move, else I might cut ye by accident."
Murine murmured her agreement and held still as she felt the cold metal of his blade against her skin. A heartbeat later it was done and she felt the cloth slip down to gather on the bed at her sides. After a moment of silence while he examined her back, she asked, "Are the stitches--?"
"They appear to be fine," he answered before she could finish the question. "I'm going to put some salve on. Rory gave me two, one to help ye heal and one to numb ye."
Murine nodded silently again and waited for the shock of cold salve against her skin, but it took a moment and when he did begin to smooth it on her back it was warm and his touch so gentle it barely hurt more than a twinge. She could only think that he'd heated it between his hands first, and was surprised at his thoughtfulness.
"Now the numbing one," he announced and another moment passed before his warm slippery fingers slid over her back again. He wasn't doing anything Rory hadn't done the day she was injured, yet Murine found herself responding to Dougall's light caress in a way she hadn't experienced with Rory.
"Better?" he asked after a moment.
"Aye," Murine whispered.
A moment of silence passed and then Dougall cleared his t
hroat and said, "Ye'll need to sit up so I can bind yer wound again."
Murine stilled. Despite clearing his throat, his voice had been husky and oddly seductive when he spoke, and now the oddest tingles were running through her at the thought of sitting up. She almost slipped her nightshift back over her head, but knew that would mean holding it up and out of the way while he wrapped the bandages around her front and back, and she was quite sure that holding her arms up would pull on the skin of her back and hurt just then.
"Lass, I've done this several times already while ye slept. There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said solemnly.
Murine sighed and let him help her sit up, appreciative when he wrapped the linens and furs around her waist from behind, preserving at least some of her dignity. She wouldn't have been able to do it herself; she was too busy making sure the material of her gown remained pressed against her breasts.
Once she was upright, Dougall simply set to work binding her wound, wrapping the cloth around her lower waist again and again, moving higher with each wrap around.
"Does it need to be so high?" Murine asked, her voice a little breathless as he passed the cloth around her front just under her breasts. She had eased the cloth of her nightgown up a bit to get it out of the way. The cloth covered only the top half of her breasts now and she bit her lip as one of Dougall's hands accidentally bumped the bottom of one round globe.
"I'm no' sure," Dougall admitted, his voice a husky whisper by her ear as he reached his hands around her again to pass the wrapping from one hand to the other. "'Tis how Rory did it. Mayhap the more skin ye hold tight, the less the chance ye'll rip a stitch."
"Mayhap," she agreed weakly, her body reacting to his breath on her ear and the feel of the soft skin on top of his hand rubbing on the sensitive under curve of her breast again on this go-round. How much more wrapping was there? Murine wondered wildly as his hands slid behind her and then started around the front again.
"Dougall?" she said weakly and then bit her lip and closed her eyes as his hands stopped just under her breasts, his skin touching hers.
"Aye?" His own voice was a deep growl now, one she remembered from the waterfall, and that memory set fire to the tinder that his innocent actions had laid inside her. Murine shook her head weakly, then turned to press a kiss to the side of his face as she inhaled his scent.
