Page 25 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

The wounded hall was filled with the usual scent of smoke, herbs, and unwashed bodies. It was also crowded, but unlike the first week, this was a rather pleasant improvement.

Lily moved as quickly and as deftly as she could between the cots. Whenever she was in the hall, tending to the men, all her worries seemed to fall away.

Why would she think of Alasdair when a man was convulsing right before her and she was trying to bring him back to life?

Why would she worry about her place in the castle when the only thing on her mind was how she could bring a soldier’s fever down? The hall had its own way of grounding her in reality.

A man nearby coughed, and her head snapped toward him. Blast it, she’d made a brew for him and left it behind.

“Give me a moment, will ye, Mr. Smith?”

The man nodded, evidently trying to stifle another cough.

She hurried across the hall to fetch the roots she had set aside the day before. When she reached the small basket she kept near the wall, her steps slowed.

It was empty.

She bent low, shifted the cloths and jars beside it, but no, there was nothing there. The roots were all gone.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath.

A maid stopped nearby and tilted her head. “Me Lady, is everything all right?”

“Aye,” Lily replied quickly, straightening. “It is fine. Carry on with yer work.”

The maid nodded and turned away, and Lily let out a quiet sigh. Without the roots, she could not make the brews. She reached for another basket and slung it over her arm.

There was no need to head into the woods today. She had seen the very same roots growing in the garden on the far side of the castle the day before, and she would gather them there. She exhaled as she made her way out of the hall and stepped into the sunlight.

She waited for a moment to feel the fresh air on her face, gripping the basket as hard as she could. The weather had been kind to them this week, and she was immensely grateful for that. Who knew how many men could get complications from the cold?

She shrugged and crossed the courtyard and toward the stables, behind which the garden was located.

One of the stable boys spotted her and quickly bowed his head. “Good afternoon, me Lady.”

“Afternoon, Joshua,” Lily greeted warmly. “How is yer neck today?”

The boy reached behind him to rub the spot just under his collar. “Much better than yesterday,” he answered with a grin. “Ye truly are a magician, me Lady. In another world, I think ye might be one.”

Lily laughed, shaking her head. “Nay, just a healer. But remember, Joshua. Daenae put weight on it while ye sleep. Rest on yer back if ye can manage it.”

He nodded eagerly. “Aye, I will. Thank ye again. Is there anything I can help ye with?”

She studied him for a moment, amused by his eagerness. “Do ye ken the root that grows low with a red stem and pale leaves?”

Joshua frowned and shook his head. “Nay, me Lady. I fear I daenae.”

“Then I am afraid ye cannae help me,” Lily teased, though her smile softened the words. “Carry on with yer work.”

“Aye, me Lady,” he said again with a grin, before turning back to the stables.

Lily continued toward the garden. The air was different in this part of the castle. It wasn’t as stuffy or as filled with groans. The quiet around her slowed her thoughts, and soon, she began digging out the roots. Hopefully, she would have enough this time to ensure better treatment.

Then she heard it. The clash of steel against steel.

She froze, her brow creasing. Another clang followed, louder this time, echoing off the stone walls. Curiosity pulled her forward. She rose and walked around the edge of the castle, the sound guiding her steps.

And then she saw him.

Alasdair.

He stood in the training yard, shirtless, his sword flashing in his hand. He moved with pure precision and poise, the kind she only saw in powerful warriors. A question gnawed at her as she watched him move, his skin glistening in the sun.

Since when could he do that? Since when could he move and fight like that?

Sweat rolled down his back and disappeared into the worn waistband of his leather pants. The sight made her throat go dry.

She swallowed hard, unable to look away. The way his muscles rippled with every movement stirred something fierce in her chest. For one wild moment, she imagined running her hands down his slick skin, tracing his arms, feeling the heat of him.

She shook her head quickly, but her eyes betrayed her. He stopped for a second to stretch his bandaged arm, and the muscle flexed beneath the cloth. Her knees felt weak, and she pressed the basket tighter against her hip, her breath caught in her throat.

“Me Lady?”

The voice behind her made her jump.

She spun around, her hand to her chest. Daisy stood there with a sealed letter in her hand and a bright smile on her face.

“Christ, Daisy, ye frightened me,” Lily gasped.

Daisy’s eyes widened. “Forgive me, me Lady. Is everything all right?”

Lily took a steadying breath. “Oh, just fine. I was only gathering some roots.”

Daisy glanced over her shoulder, her eyes flicking to the training yard before returning quickly. “Do any of the roots ye need grow over there? I can fetch them for ye, if ye wish.”

Lily’s cheeks warmed. “Nay, Daisy. It is fine. I have what I need.”

“Very well,” Daisy said, her smile returning. She lifted the letter slightly. “But look. A letter at last, me Lady. It came from yer sisters.”

Lily’s breath caught in excitement. “Really?”

“Aye, me Lady,” Daisy responded.

Lily set down the basket and took the letter from her without thinking about it, exhaling with relief and anticipation as she felt the paper in her hand.

At last.

The letter quivered in her hands as she broke the seal. Her breath caught before her eyes even landed on the page. The parchment smelled faintly of lavender and pinecone, the same scent Brigid always carried.

“It is from Brigid,” she whispered.

Daisy leaned closer, curiosity plain on her face. “Is she one of yer sisters?”

“Aye.” Lily’s heart thudded. “The youngest. She writes that she and Conall will come. They are coming here, Daisy. They will be at Castle MacRay for the cèilidh. I will see them in only a few days.”

Daisy’s face broke into a smile. “That is wonderful news.”

Lily did not wait for her to say more. Her eyes skimmed down the lines, and her fingers curled into the parchment.

“Oh!” she gasped, her heart swelling. “Valerie cannae come. She is with child, and Megan will stay behind to care for her.”

“Are those yer sisters as well?”

Her lips curled into a small smile, and her voice softened. “Aye. They are. So only Brigid will be here. Still, that is enough. It has been too long since I looked upon her face.”

“At least one sister is coming,” Daisy said.

“Aye.” Lily swallowed down the ache and lifted her chin. “I hadnae realized how much I had missed Brigid. She and I… we are very much alike.” She folded the letter carefully against her chest. “Daisy, please prepare the guest chambers for them. Everything must be in order.”

“Shall I tell the other servants?” Daisy asked.

“Aye, thank ye.” Lily replied. “Now I will have something else to distract me. Something better.”

Daisy tilted her head. “Distract ye from what?”

“Never mind.” Lily waved a hand. “I must go to the market. I need to fetch herbs and the fish Brigid loves.”

“Could the maids nae do that?” Daisy asked gently.

Lily shook her head. “Nay. Ye keep forgetting, Daisy. I wasnae always a lady. I ken the market better than most. And I alone ken which fish Brigid craves. I willnae trust another with that task.”

Daisy chuckled. “‘Tis only fish, me Lady. I just thought it would be too much for ye to go just because of that.”

Lily smiled and remembered the spray of salt water, the rocking of the ship, the endless hunger of those days.

“For a week at sea, we had nothing but fish. Brigid grew to love it. Even when she had other food before her, she chose fish. A strange love, but hers, and I wouldnae let her come here and find it missing.”

“Then we must make sure it is ready,” Daisy said warmly.

A voice, deeper and sharper, cut across the space behind them. “Make sure what is ready?”

Lily spun on her heel. Alasdair stood behind, his chest bare, his skin slick with sweat. The sun streaming through the arch caught the lines of muscle and the sheen on his arms. Her hand curled into a fist at her side. She dared not let it betray her thoughts.

Daisy dipped her head quickly. “Me Laird.” She took the basket from Lily. “I will take these roots to Sorcha.”

“Wait—” Lily began, but Daisy slipped away in an instant, leaving her alone.

The silence pressed in.

Alasdair stepped forward, his eyes fixed on her hand. “What are ye holding there?”

Lily smirked to mask the thrum of her heart. “Wouldnae ye like to ken?”

“I would,” he said, his voice low. “I would like to ken many things.”

Her throat tightened. She forced the words out as if nothing fazed her. “‘Tis from me sister. She will come, after all.”

“Ah.” His lips curved. “Good tidings, indeed.”

“She’s bringing her husband, so I must go to the market and fetch her favorite fish.”

His brow creased, and his smile faded. “The maid can do that.”

“Of course nae.” Lily’s voice hardened. “She is me guest. Me sister. Only I ken the fish she loves.”

His jaw flexed. “Ye must listen to me on this.”

She lifted her chin. “Nay. I plan to go later this week. If ye wish to stop me, ye had better come up with something stronger than nay .”

He exhaled through his nose, his eyes narrowing on her. “Ye willnae budge, will ye?”

Her lips curled into a sharp smile. “Ye should ken me well enough by now.”

“Fine,” he said at last. “But ye must go with at least two guards.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he raised his hand, cutting her off.

“That isnae up for debate. Ye are a lady now. Unless…” He tilted his head. “Unless ye would prefer I go with ye?”