Page 53 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“Willnae. I’ll nae be lettin’ ye walk on that ankle until Catriona’s seen tae it and told me how bad ‘tis.” He gave her a sharp look when she tried to protest. “Ye were running fer yer life, and ye’ve nae yet fully calmed from the shock o’ it all. I’ve seen men on broken limbs and worse, cripple themselves because they didnae realize how bad they’d been hurt til ‘twas tae late.”

“Ye cannae carry me the whole way.”

Alistair smiled grimly. “Watch me lass.”

Her first response was indignation, but as Alistair began to walk, leading his horse and carrying her in his arms, Niamh calmed. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right.

Her ankle did throb dully within her boot, the more she considered it, and she knew walking would have been extremely painful. She didn’t think it was broken - she was fairly certain it wasn’t - but that didn’t mean she was all right.

She was also still shaking slightly from the aftermath of the violence she’d just witnessed. She’d just seen Alistair and his brother kill eleven men, right in front of her! She’d never seen a man be killed before, let alone so quickly and brutally.

A part of her couldn’t help but rejoice that the brigands were dead and couldn’t attack anyone else. A part of her was sickened by the scent of blood and offal that hung in her nose, and the images in her mind. She understood that what Alistair and Ewan had done had been necessary, and that it had saved her life but that didn’t make it much easier for her stomach to bear. Just as well it had been candle-marks since she last ate.

And yet… for all that she was horrified by the violence of the encounter, and by how close she’d come to an unpleasant fate, she couldn’t help marveling a little at the man who carried her now.

Alistair MacDuff. She’d known before now that he was strong but his skill as a warrior, and the fierce pride and determination that kept her safe in his arms as he tromped over the uneven ground toward the castle, those were things she’d never realized he had. His determination to protect her, even from her own stubbornness, was impressive as well.

And he hadn’t hesitated at all before charging into those brigands, which spoke well of his courage too. The more she considered it, the more she found to admire about her strong, stern, and utterly dependable husband.

Even now, he had to be tired from the fighting, and from the… what had he called it? The shock, that was it, of battle. But he held her in his arms with no more apparent effort than he would have used for lifting a bundle of feathers, and his arms were steady around her, firm as if she rested against a chair instead of another human’s frame.

She’d seen those muscles on their wedding night, but never realized the immense power that lay behind them. She should have been frightened, she thought, and yet, she felt safer than she’d ever felt in her life. Despite her words, she was sure that he’d never drop her, never risk one scratch or bruise more on her skin between the site of the battle and healer’s cottage.

It was a heady thought. A humbling one.

“Ye’re quiet. I would have thought ye’d put up more o’ a fight than this.” Alistair’s observation, laced with amusement, made Niamh blush slightly.

“Well, nay sense wastin’ the words, when I ken ye’ll nae listen tae a thing I say. ‘Tis better than bein’ tied tae yer horse again.”

Alistair laughed, and Niamh felt her skin tingle at the feeling of his laughter reverberating through his broad chest. It made her feel strange, in a warm, enticing way.

They arrived at the castle shortly after to find Catriona waiting at the gate. Her gaze raked over the two of them, then went to Alistair first. “How much o’ that is yers?”

“Nae any, so far as I ken.” Alistair shrugged. “They didnae have time tae mark me.”

“Good.” Catriona tossed her head, setting the beads in her braids to tinkling gently, then led them to the healer’s cottage. “Put her on the cot then.”

Alistair did as he was told, then took two steps back. Catriona glared at him. “Go on. Ye dinnae need tae stay if ye’re nae injured.”

“She’s my wife.” Alistair didn’t move.

Catriona sighed. “Fine, but get out o’ my light, ye great lout, or I’ll give ye an injury tae occupy ye.”

Alistair moved, but not far. Catriona sighed again, then eyed Niamh. “How much o’ the blood is yers?”

“Nae… nae any, I dinnae think. I was never cut…’twas only the shock, and me ankle…” Niamh tried to flex the injured limb and winced.

“Dinnae dae that. Ye let me look at it first.” Catriona undid the straps on the boot and gently eased it off, then removed the woolen sock as well. Niamh winced at the sight of the swelling around the joint. “Tell me when it hurts.”

She rotated it up, and Niamh gasped. Down, another gasp. Then, when she tried side to side, Niamh yelped. “Ow!”

Rotating was no better. “Ayayayayay… och, that hurts like trippin’ over a tree branch…”

“I thought so.” Catriona nodded, then glared at Alistair, who’d been moving closer. “Back yerself up, cousin. Or better yet, get me some water tae heat, and some clean bandages, while I make up a poultice fer her ankle, and a tisane tae soothe the pain and her nerves.”

“What’s wrong? Is it serious?”

“The nerves? Nae at all. ‘Tis only a wee bit o’ shock, and a night’s sleep will see her right - as will a hot meal. As fer the ankle – ‘tis only a sprain. She’s twisted it fair good, but ‘tis naething that willnae heal with a day o’ complete rest, and a cautious eye tae her activity and her pain fer a few days more.” Catriona’s calm voice reassured Niamh.