Page 92 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

Soon the remedy worked its magic, and he drifted to sleep.

***

ELSEA WATCHED BRODIE'S chest rise and fall to make sure he still lived. When the guards had carried Brodie into the great hall earlier, he'd been pale and unmoving, his chest and torso covered in blood. Her breath froze within her lungs.

A guard held a candle close to the wound, a straight, deep cut across Brodie's left pectoral muscle. Finnian's fingers were surprisingly nimble as he stitched it.

While she observed, she prayed for Brodie's healing and recovery.

Soon, Finnian completed his task and placed a clean bandage over the wound. The bleeding had diminished, and only a little seeped out.

"He'll sleep for a while." Finnian rose. "You can release him now, lads," he told the guards. "If we need your help again, I'll let you know."

Most of the people quit the room. His mother kept ringing her hands and pacing.

"Go, find your bed, Lady MacCain," Finnian said, washing his hands in a basin the maid had filled.

"Nay, indeed. I'm staying right here."

"As you wish." Finnian inclined his head and dried his hands on a linen towel. "Let me know if you need anything, or if he awakes in pain. I'm going to have a wee nap." He ambled from the room, looking exhausted.

Elsea waited near the door, while his mother sat in the chair near Brodie. He slept, his breathing audible but calm, his lashes dark against his pale cheeks. Good heavens, how much blood had he lost?

"Go back to bed, my dear," Agatha whispered to her. "'Tis late."

Elsea curtsied and proceeded to her bedchamber, feeling out of place, not wanting to leave his room. She should be Brodie's wife and by his side, but she wasn't. His mother was the closest female to him.

"Please God, help him heal and recover," she prayed.

After pacing for several more minutes, she crouched and prodded at the fire, then placed a small piece of driftwood on it.

Earlier, just after they'd brought Brodie to his chamber, Finnian had removed the sealskin from the lower half of Brodie's body and handed it to her for safekeeping. The thin, filmy garment radiated a chilly, magical sensation. She'd rushed to this room and submerged it into a basin of cold water to soak the blood out, then hurried back to his chamber.

She wanted to sit by him now, but his mother might not approve. She might think Elsea was overstepping.

A light knock sounded at her door. She opened it, finding Agatha standing in the corridor, her eyes still red.

Alarm blared through Elsea. "How is he?"

"Sleeping. I saw the light beneath your door and thought you must still be awake."

"Aye."

She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "I wondered if you would be willing to sit with him for a short while?"

"Of course."

"I appreciate it, my dear. You're a sweet lass. Please pray for him."

"Indeed. I am." Elsea banked the fire and carried her candle to Brodie's chamber. Everyone else had left, and someone had stoked the low fire that burned in his hearth.

If he awoke and found her there, would he glare and growl at her? She didn't care. After depositing the candle on the table, she sat on a chair by the bed. His breathing was strong, deep, and even. Someone, mayhap his manservant, had washed the blood off him while she'd been in her chamber.

She studied him at her leisure, as she had not been able to do in a long time. He was indeed the most handsome man she had ever beheld. His midnight hair, brows, and stubble shading his square jaw were a stark contrast to his too-pale skin. His excessive pallor frightened her, and she offered up another prayer.

Her gaze wandered over his sensual, chiseled lips. They might appear carved from stone, but she remembered how soft yet forceful they were during a staggering kiss. Her gaze drifted to his broad shoulders and muscular arms... so strong. And yet, brought down too easily with the slash of a blade. She wanted to press her lips to his forehead.

Nay, that would not do at all.