Page 8 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

Dusk was beginning to creep upon the castle like a visitor unsure of its welcome. A few more hours, and the sky would completely darken. Alasdair stood near the back window, drying his hands with a towel and surveying the rows of wounded men.

Low candlelight flickered along the walls, casting a soft golden hue over the stone and timber, the scent of herbs lingering faintly in the air.

The atmosphere was different now. Calmer.

Even with the groans of pain and the occasional muttered complaint, there was a strange sense of peace. Not like earlier, during Dr. Moseley’s regime, when the room was filled with panic and the stench of rot. There was a rhythm now. A system. A sense of hope.

Alasdair folded the towel and set it aside.

She had done this. Lily.

Barely a full day had passed, and already the men seemed less afraid. Some even smiled at the maids who brought them water or porridge. The wounded had hope now, and Alasdair knew that he had been right to bring her back.

Even though she had made him bleed for it, he didn’t regret it one bit. A few more weeks, and the hall would be empty again. He could feel it in his bones.

“Good evening, me Laird,” Daisy greeted as she entered.

He turned toward her. “Daisy. Did the lady take her bath and meal?”

“Aye.” She nodded. “She took her bath earlier. Miss Sorcha’s taking her to the dining hall now, or so I was told.”

“Good,” he said, satisfied.

He waited for her to leave, but she didn’t.

He arched an eyebrow. “Is there more?”

“Well…” Daisy wrung her hands. “Yer friend Finn and yer man-at-arms are waiting for ye in the Great Hall. They said it was urgent.”

Alasdair sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I have done enough for one day.”

“Ye have, me Laird,” Daisy responded.

Alaisdair nodded and gave the recovering men one final look before striding out.

The Great Hall was lit up, laughter floating from within as he entered. Nathan stood near the table with a cup in his hand, while Finn leaned back in a chair, his leg propped on the edge of the long oak table.

“Quite a successful mission, would ye nae say, me Laird?” Nathan greeted.

Alasdair nodded. “Aye. It went well.”

“Well?” Finn scoffed, sitting forward. “Ye must be blind. Judging by what I’ve heard from the servants, she looked like she’d rather be tossed into the sea than be here.”

Nathan chuckled. “That one’s got fire, I’ll give her that. Never seen a lass fight so hard.”

Alasdair shot him a warning look. “Careful. That’s still me wife ye’re speaking of.”

Nathan raised both hands in surrender. “Me apologies, me Laird.”

Soon, the maids arrived with trays of roasted meat, potatoes, and steaming vegetables. Alasdair settled down, but his eyes strayed to the door.

“Where is the lady?” he asked the maid as she poured wine into his cup.

“She requested that the meal be brought to her chambers, me Laird. She ate quickly and left soon after, back to the wounded hall.”

Alasdair blinked. “Must’ve missed her.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Ye had better get used to that. That one still thinks she’s only here to patch wounds.”

Alasdair frowned. “And what do ye suggest I do?”

“Convince her otherwise. Ye have a few weeks until the men are fully healed,” Finn said, biting into the roast beef. “Mmm.” He licked his lips and turned to the maid. “Tell the cook she’s a godsend.”

The maid blushed. “Aye, Sir. I’ll tell her.”

Finn grinned as she walked away, and Alasdair shot him a questioning look.

“What?” Finn asked, raising his hands. “I cannae compliment food now?”

Alasdair shook his head, smirking. But then Finn’s gaze lowered, his expression turning curious.

“That looks new,” he noted, pointing to the cloth tied around Alasdair’s thigh.

Alasdair leaned back and nodded. “Aye. Courtesy of me wife.”

Finn blinked. “Wait—she stabbed ye?”

“Aye. She wanted to run away, and she damn near succeeded,” Alasdair responded, shrugging. “I suppose luck was on me side.”

Finn gave a low whistle. “Well, she already has me respect.”

“I would hope so,” Alasdair replied, taking a long sip of wine. “She’s yer new lady.”

Nathan leaned in. “Do ye think the council and the rest will approve of her when ye announce it tomorrow?”

Alasdair leaned forward, elbows on the table. “We’ll find out soon enough. Until then, everything she asks for must be granted.”

They ate in easy silence after that, the clink of knives and the warmth of the fire easing the weight of the day.

When his plate was clean and his cup was drained, Alasdair stood up. “Gentlemen, I believe I’ll retire for the night.”

Finn raised his cup in salute. “Ye deserve it. And tomorrow, I’ll meet yer wife properly. She must be quite different from the lass I remember.”

Alasdair hesitated, then smirked. “Well, she’s nay longer the daughter ye recall.”

“The daughter I recall wouldnae have done that,” Finn responded, gesturing toward his thigh.

“Ye are correct. She is grown now,” Alasdair said.

Finn nodded solemnly. “Aye. But still, we must honor her the way we once honored Captain Blackwood.”

Alasdair inclined his head. “Agreed.”

He turned and walked away. He was halfway down the passage to his room when Daisy appeared again, breathless from rushing up the stairs.

“Me Laird?”

He paused, already loosening his collar. “What is it, Daisy?”

She shifted from one foot to the other, her hands twisting in her apron. “There’s been… a slight change to yer sleeping arrangements.”

Alasdair folded his arms across his chest. “What sort of change?”

Daisy swallowed, her eyes darting toward the hall behind him.

“A very… particular kind, me Laird.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well?” he said, his voice low. “Are ye going to spit it out or nae?”

Lily moved along the row of soldiers one last time before she allowed herself to think of bed. She was exhausted from both the journey and attending to the wounded soldiers the whole day, but she needed to make sure that everything was all right. At least given the circumstances.

The hall was dimly lit now, and the glow of the oil lamps threw long shadows on the walls. The smell of herbs lingered in the air, and the bitter tang of medicine filled her nostrils.

She paused beside Davie, a tall soldier with a bandaged chest.

“How are ye feeling now?” she asked, glancing at the maid beside him.

“He’s doing fine, me Lady,” the maid answered quickly. “Most of them are. Only Stewart over there…” She pointed across the row. “He’s still flushed and red as an apple. I thought it might be from the wound, but…”

Lily’s eyes followed the maid’s hand. Stewart, a young soldier with bright brown hair, lay on the cot, trembling ever so slightly. Her hands studied the way his fingers tightened around the thin bed covers.

“There’s a poultice in the cabinets that’ll help. Have someone put it on a clean cloth and press it gently to the swelling,” she instructed. “It should ease it.”

The maid nodded, grateful for the direction.

Lily straightened and looked down the hall. Most of the men on either row were now sleeping, and the ones who weren’t didn’t look like they were going to complain about anything. Still, she couldn’t take any chances.

She turned back to the maid. “If any of them need something during the night, will there be someone here to help?”

“Aye, me Lady. We’ll have maids working in shifts. The men willnae be left alone.”

Satisfied, Lily moved to the far end, where a pale, thin man lay with his eyes half open. She knelt beside him. “What is yer name?”

“Adam, me Lady,” he answered, his voice faint but firm.

“Well, Adam, ye must hang in there, do ye understand me? Ye have been given yer medicine, and now all we can do is wait for it to take effect. Daenae fret.”

Adam gave a short laugh that ended in a cough. “Ye’ve given me hope, me Lady. Before he left, Dr. Moseley told me I wouldnae last the night. I thought it was the truth.” He paused, a hint of anger in his eyes. “Now, I ken he was a fraud and a liar.”

Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I am glad to have been of help, Adam. Ye focus on resting now.”

She rose and beckoned to the maid. “If the men need anything, tell the others on duty nae to hesitate to fetch me.”

The maid hesitated, twisting her fingers in her apron. “They wouldnae do that, me Lady. Nae when—” She stopped suddenly.

“Nae when what?” Lily asked.

The maid shook her head quickly. “Forgive me, me Lady. I forgot what I was about to say.”

Lily didn’t believe her, but she let it slide. “Tell the next shift the same.”

“Aye, me Lady.”

By the time she stepped out of the hall, tiredness clung to her bones.

It was fully dark now, and nothing could be seen up above.

The moon hid behind thick clouds, and the air was cool and still.

The stars were scattered above, faint in the dark sky.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she crossed the passageway toward the main stairs.

Halfway up, she saw Nathan coming from the opposite end, the nearby candlelight catching his shiny red hair. She was instantly transported to the brief hour she had spent behind him on horseback before leaving her village.

“How are ye finding yer stay so far?” he asked, stopping before her.

Lily smiled faintly. “‘Tis fine. Even though I was carried out of the market square like a criminal, I believe there is good to be done here.”

Nathan’s expression softened. “I am sorry for that, me Lady. I was only following orders. I never meant to shame ye.”

She chuckled lightly. “I was only jesting, Nathan. Think nothing of it.”

He smiled, relieved. “Sleep well, me Lady.”

“And ye,” she replied, turning toward the stairwell.

The upper floor was quiet, and the passages were empty. She wished, briefly, that she’d asked for a candle. Still, she told herself she knew the way. She had been to her room before. She liked to believe the path was simple.

Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked, the darkness pressing close around her. She reached the familiar door and pushed it open. The room was pitch black, as the moonlight had not yet returned.

Too tired to think much of it, she closed the door behind her, found her way to the small table, and set her shawl aside.

Her fingers moved over the laces of her gown, loosening them with ease.

It felt almost absentminded, the way she slipped into her night shift and felt the cool fabric caress her skin.

The bed was soft and warm, and the blankets smelled faintly of roses. She climbed in with a sigh and sank into the mattress. A yawn escaped her, and she rolled onto her side, stretching her arms in the dark.

Then, she felt it.

Her hands brushed against something warm and solid. Something slightly hairy.

Her breath caught.

A chest.

She froze, her fingers splayed across the hard muscles. Her palm moved before her mind caught up, tracing down a strong abdomen, then back up to a jawline she could not see but recognized instantly.

Then came his voice, deep and unmistakable in the darkness.

“By all means,” Alasdair said, his tone edged with quiet amusement, “take yer time.”

Her heart flipped. “God!”

She scrambled back, tumbling to the side of the bed, nearly losing her balance.

“What in Christ’s name are ye doing in here?” she demanded, her voice sharp with shock.