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"Oh, look, ye've ruined yer gown, m'lady," Geordie noted sympathetically as Dougall knelt next to Murine and dunked the clean linen in the water.
Wringing out the linen, Dougall glanced up to see that Murine had her chin tucked in as she tried to peer down to see what Geordie was talking about. The blood had trailed down her neck and begun to soak into the neckline of the gown she'd donned after her swim the day before. There was no way she could see the stain and her expression was vexed as she attempted to.
"'Tis just a wee bit o' blood on the neckline," Dougall assured her and then took her chin in hand and raised her head so that he could wipe the blood from her neck and prevent the stain growing any larger.
Murine was silent as he worked. But she drew in a hiss of breath when he then rinsed the cloth, wrung it out again and pressed it firmly to the still bleeding gash.
"I ha'e to stop the bleeding," he muttered, regretting causing her further pain but knowing it was necessary.
"O' course," Murine whispered.
"I'm thinking ye should stitch it up," Conran decided, kneeling next to him to eyeball the wound when Dougall took the cloth away and blood immediately began to trickle from it.
"Nay," Murine gasped, and then frowned and said shakily, "Surely putting pressure on it will be enough? 'Twill stop bleeding in a minute."
Dougall was of the mind that stitches might be necessary, but understood her dismay at the thought. Pressing on the wound was no doubt painful, but forcing a needle through the skin of her forehead again and again would be excruciating. Besides, he was not pleased at the thought of permanently scarring her so. As it was this gash would leave a mark, a thin line if she were lucky. With stitches it would look like a branch on her temple.
"We'll try pressure first," he decided.
Murine relaxed a little and offered a grateful smile.
Dougall smiled back, then glanced around to Alick. "If ye've more clean linen, fetch it. We'll need to wrap her head to keep her wound closed while we ride."
Alick nodded and moved to the horses to begin rooting around in the satchel hanging from his mount's saddle.
"Thank ye."
Dougall glanced back to Murine at those words to see that her expression had turned more tentative.
"I am sorry. I ken I've slowed ye down and been nothing but a bother. And I appreciate yer kindness in seeing me safely to Saidh," she said softly.
Dougall hardly heard the words, his attention caught by her lips as they moved. His mind was filling with thoughts that had nothing to do with what she was saying.
"'Tis all right, lass," Conran said when Dougall remained silent. "We're nearly to Buchanan now. In fact, we should arrive just in time for sup. We'll stay the night and take ye on to MacDonnell in the morning. It's only a half day's ride, so ye should be laughing about all o' this with Saidh by the nooning."
Dougall stiffened. Unless they were further delayed they should reach Buchanan well ere the sup tonight, and MacDonnell by noon the following day. Then this task would be completed and they would return home . . . leaving Murine behind. The thought did not please him and his voice was a bit rough with that displeasure when he said, "Ye should break yer fast."
"Oh, nay, I'm no' hungry," Murine said quickly.
"Then eat fer yer health," he said abruptly.
Murine hesitated, and then asked, "Are any o' ye going to eat?"
Dougall shook his head while his brothers all said nay and Murine raised her chin.
"Then--"
"But none o' us faints from a lack o' nourishment," Dougall interrupted her, knowing she was going to use their not eating as an excuse to refuse food herself.
Murine blew her breath out in resignation, but then rallied and said, "Fine. I'll eat. But could the rest o' ye no find something to occupy yerselves with other than staring at me? 'Tis most discomfiting." When she didn't get an immediate agreement, she added, "And takes me appetite away."
"I'll go check on the horses," Alick said at once.
"I wouldn't mind a quick swim ere we set out," Geordie decided.
"I'll join ye fer that swim," Conran announced and the three brothers immediately moved off, leaving them alone.
"What about you?" Murine asked when they were alone.
"I'm staying," he said simply, and then teased her gently, saying, "Someone has to make sure ye actually eat and do no' just claim ye did while we are gone."
Murine scowled at the suggestion.
"But I'll ha'e a bite or two with ye if it means ye'll eat more," he added.
"Deal," she said, brightening.
Chuckling for no reason he could understand, Dougall took her hand and raised it to press against the cloth he was still pressing against her forehead.
"Hold that firmly in place," he instructed, then stood and moved to the horses to collect the bag with the cooked meat in it. He had a couple of apples left in his own bag, and grabbed them as well as the leather flask of cider that hung from his horse's saddle, before returning.
Murine still held the cloth in place when he returned, and judging by the way she was wincing, she was pressing more firmly than was necessary in an effort to stop the bleeding and avoid getting stitched up. Dougall didn't comment on it, but merely began to set out the food.
"I did no' think about it, but I'm sorry if our not eating and watching ye eat made ye uncomfortable yester morn," he said quietly as she accepted the large serving of meat he offered her.
Murine smiled wryly. "Ye were no' so bad, but Alick and Geordie were like a pair o' crows perched on the log. I kept thinking they were about to swoop over and grab the food from me."
Dougall smiled faintly at the words. Now that she said it, he did see the resemblance between his memory of how they'd perched on the log, leaning forward, and a pair of interested crows. The truth was they had both been more interested in her than her food, but he didn't say as much.
They ate in silence for several moments, Dougall pleased to see she was making short work of the meat he'd given her. She was eating it quickly. He suspected that was so that she could get as much in as possible before her head told her she was full. He thought that was a good sign. Now that he had mentioned that the fainting might be due to her lack in eating, she appeared to want to correct it herself. If he was right, her fainting spells should end quickly and she would not need the tincture Joan had made for her, or its recipe. She'd return to the healthy young lass she'd been ere the troubles had hit her family. Healthy enough to be a wife and mother.
"So, ye've imagined yerself married and having a passel o' children?" he asked suddenly as he recalled her saying something to that effect when she'd said she'd always expected to marry. He himself had always thought a half a dozen or more would be good. But then he'd grown up in a household with eight healthy children in it, so it seemed natural.
"Aye," Murine admitted. "But I think all girls probably do. We are usually betrothed in the cradle."
Dougall nodded. That was true. Pretty much every child born to nobility was betrothed quite young. Saidh had been as well. And like Murine's betrothed, Saidh's had died ere claiming her.
Murine smiled at him tentatively and commented, "Saidh once mentioned that while yer parents arranged betrothals fer her and Aulay, they never arranged them for the rest o' ye?"
Dougall nodded and then explained, "Ma wanted to but Da refused."
"Really?" Murine asked with wide eyes. "Why?"
"He always said it was hard to ken how a bairn would turn out and he did no' want to saddle any o' us with unpleasant, or amoral mates, or even ones whose personality did no' suit us," Dougall explained. "He wanted us to have a chance at happiness and choose our mates for ourselves as he had."
