Page 30 of Hold Fast

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like any part of that. But what choice did he have? Better to agree to the demand and sort out the details later.

“I agree.”

“Then we have a deal, m’laird,” she said with a nod.

He still didn’t like the sound of his title in her mouth, the way she seemed to spit it out like a rancid morsel.

“My third condition stands, Una. I dinnae want you calling me ‘m’laird.’”

“But—”

“Call me by my title when others are around, but when we are alone, I would prefer that you use my name.”

“When we are alone?” she repeated, eyes wide in horror.

“As friends,” he hastily added, raking his hands through his hair and pulling at the roots. What a day it had been and it was not nearly over yet. “I wish you to call me by my name as friends.”

She took a step back, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but eventually, after an eternity, she nodded.

“I have duties to attend to. But I will instruct my sister to attend to you, and one of my men will be outside the door. If you need anything at all, ask him, and it shall be delivered.”

A small nod. He stepped around her, moving toward the door.

“I will return later to check on Connor. But if anything changes before then, I want you to send for me.”

“Aye, m’lai—” she stopped short and her gaze flicked to his. “Ewan.”

A smile teased at the corner of his mouth, but it twisted to a grimace as Connor groaned on the bed.

“Hold fast, Ewan,” Una said, his name coming more easily off her tongue than the last time, and he allowed himself to smile weakly. “I have faith in him.”

As he closed the door gently behind him, he heard Una humming a soft, lilting tune. He nodded to the guard in the hall before knocking on his sister’s door.

Catriona wrenched it open, her eyes red and puffy, tear tracks staining her cheeks.

“I heard him screaming, Ewan,” she cried, launching herself against his chest. He caught her and held her, his own heart feeling as if it would eat him alive from the inside.

What a messy, bloody day.

“Aye. He did. Una had to remove all of your fine stitching to drain the wound,” he said, resting his chin on the top of his sister’s head and wishing, for the second time in only a few minutes, that he had changed shirts.

“I told you I was nae fit to stitch him! I’ve killed him for certain!” Cat wailed, bursting into fresh tears.

“Cat,” Ewan said, cradling her cheeks gently in his palms and looking into her moss-green eyes. “Our new healer bid me to tell you what a fine job you did. She said it was a pity that she had to remove your stitches.”

Catriona gasped. “Our new healer? But I thought you fetched the Cameron healer!”

“I did. But I convinced her to stay.”

For a trial period, he thought to himself. But he did not say that out loud. Let him worry about how to convince the new healer to stay. That was a future Ewan problem.

“Thanks be to God!” Cat said, hastily wiping at her tears with her sleeves.

Ewan nodded. “I want her to feel welcome here. At home. That’s why I came to find you. Her gown was in sorry shape to begin with, but ’tis ruined now. I want her to have something… nice. She deserves something nice.”

“We can find her something nice,” Cat said, sniffling. “Right, Joan?”

Joan sat sewing next to the hearth. “Of course, milady,” she answered brightly.