“What happened when we were attacked?” She peeked under the blanket at her shift, and a blush stained her cheeks. “And why did ye take off my dress when Aunt Brighid should have?”
“She did.” He had never felt such fear. People often did not wake from Rona’s sort of injury. “But help was needed and I wouldnae have ye jostled about too much with yer head injured.”
“I see,” she murmured.
While one might argue Aaron could have helped, in truth that would have been equally inappropriate. More familiar with battle wounds, best that Colmac assisted.
“I dinnae recall any of it,” she said. “What happened? How were ye there when we were attacked?”
“’Twas not all that far from the castle.” He tried to keep his gaze off the satiny flesh of her shoulder peeking through the shift. “Our scouts alerted us to yer presence, and we came straight away. There werenae many attacking ye but they were vicious enough.”
“Aye.” Her grateful eyes lingered on his face. “’Twould have been a bad outcome indeed had ye not come.”
He clenched his fists, not doubting that for a moment. All he could see was the miscreant with his blade to her throat. His leer while he dragged her backward.
“Ye werenae handled well, lass,” he said softly. “Are ye hurt anywhere else but yer head?”
“I dinnae think so.” Rona removed the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She rolled her shoulders and wiggled her toes, testing everything out. “Nay, all is well enough.”
He knew he should turn around and give her privacy, but he was once again frozen in place by the sight of her pebbled nipples through her shift. At the obvious contours of her well-rounded breasts against the material. When he had helped Brighid take off her dress, he’d seen nothing but his own fear at her injury.
Now, however, he saw clearly what he had missed.
“Ye should,” he stuttered before he managed to rip his gaze away. He cleared his throat and finally had the decency to turn around. “Ye should get beneath the blankets again, lass. I will send yer aunt to assist ye. Though ‘tis likely cold now, I had a basin of water brought up and yer belongings are in the corner.”
“I wasnae thinking,” Rona murmured, covering herself again by the sound of it. “I suppose I figured ye had already seen me so...och, ‘twas not right thinking that. All is well now.”
“’Tis fine, lass,” he assured, turning back. “By the looks of the sky ‘tis late morn, so I imagine they have cooked a thing or two below stairs. Would ye like something to eat?”
“Aye, but if ‘tis just the same I would like to eat in the great hall,” she replied. “Mayhap pay my respects to yer ma?”
“She would like that.” In truth, his mother seemed an empty shell of late. Adrift. So it was impossible to know if she desired to see anyone. “I will let her know ye’re asking after her.”
Rona nodded, peering at him. It seemed she wanted to say something more but was unsure.
“What is it, lass?”
She hesitated a moment longer. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am for yer loss. Not just yer clan members but yer kin...yer da and Bróccín.”
He nodded in thanks. While he meant to let the matter rest rather than dwell in misery, he found himself wanting to speak of it with her. Mayhap because she knew his kin so well and had loved his brother as much as him. Or perhaps simply because she had once been a close friend. Someone he spent countless hours talking to and confiding in.
“I wish I had been here to say goodbye.” He leaned against the wall and saw nothing but the past. “But as has been the case for many years, I was off fighting one skirmish or another against the bloody Sassenach.” He would never forget the scout who bore the bad news. “I had sustained an injury, so my laird insisted I return to the castle and be with ma. To watch over our clan until his return.”
“It must have been terrible,” she said softly. “Returning to so much loss.”
“It wasnae easy,” he confessed, sharing his thoughts with someone for the first time. He’d had to be strong for his ma and clan, leading them as his laird would have wanted him to. “But we MacLauchlins have been through worse.”
One way or another, his clan had not been very lucky over the centuries. In fact, at one point, when housing young King Robert the Bruce, they were ruthlessly attacked and nearly wiped out. The few who survived took sanctuary with the MacLomains and as the years wore on, eventually rebuilt. Now, rather than being further inland from their allies, they were across Loch Fynn and closer to the sea.
“Aye, yer clan has seen its fair share of hardship.” Rona glanced at his leg. “I am sorry ye were injured too.” Thankfulness lit her eyes. “But verra happy ye survived.”
For the first time in far too long, he was too.
If only for the chance to see her again.
“’Twas a blade cut to the calf.” Again he shared something he rarely spoke of. “It didnae heal right.”
Pain for him churned in her gaze. “Does it hurt ye now?”
