Page 52 of Taken By the Highland Villain
He stumbled further into the room, bringing with him the slight and unexpected form of Lady MacAllister.
One moment, she and Jude were standing close, the heat of desire beginning to surge through her; the next, Craig staggered through the door, Lady MacAllister in his arms and a stricken look on his face.
For all that Valerie had suspected that Lady MacAllister was being abused by her husband, if not her brother as well, the woman’s condition shocked her now. There were bruises on her hands and forearms, and bloody scrapes on her hands as well. Her right eye was blackened, the cheek below so puffy that Valerie suspected a cracked cheekbone. The way she held her elbow close to her body suggested bruises and wounds to her chest and abdomen as well.
“Lady MacAllister… what happened?” Jude’s voice was gentle, a contrast to the thunderous expression on his face.
“My husband…” Her voice was shaking. “My husband… he… he…”
Lady MacAllister was shaking badly, her face deathly white underneath the bruises. “I dinnae ken what set him off so badly, but…” She broke into sobs.
She needed comfort, warmth, and support. Answers could wait.
Valerie rose and hurried to the kitchen door. “Moira, I need some warm broth and a wee dram. Then some blankets and a change of clothes. Perhaps a hot bath. And whatever salves and bandages ye can gather in a hurry. And a balm for bruises if ye will.”
“Aye, of course, Miss Blackwood.” Moira looked through the door, and her expression softened into motherly concern. “Och, the poor lass. She looks as if she’s been chased by wolves or worse.”
A moment later, the maid was back with the broth and the whiskey, her expression set in determined lines. “Ye get that into the lass, and I’ll be back with a warm blanket and then draw a bath for her. And ye tell the Laird that he had better keep her here rather than send her back.”
Valerie smiled softly. “I am sure Laird MacFinn already intends to do that, but I will tell him ye said so.”
She took the broth back to Lady MacAllister and knelt. “Lady MacAllister…”
“Ailsa. Please. I cannae bear bein’ called by that name.” Ailsa sipped at the broth, then drank down the whiskey, and a little bit of color came back to her cheeks.
“Ailsa, I dinnae ken what’s happened to ye, but rest assured that ye’re safe here.” Jude reached out and gave her shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze.
“Thank ye, Laird MacFinn.” Ailsa sipped more broth. “I am sorry to intrude, but I couldnae think of anywhere else to go.”
The way her gaze slid very briefly to Craig made Valerie think she had a very good idea of why the lady had come to MacFinn Castle.
They’re lovers, or they’re fond enough of each other that they wish to be.
Valerie kept that thought to herself, keenly aware that it wasn’t her secret to tell. Whether Craig had revealed his relationship with Ailsa to Jude or not, it was his life, and she was not about to invade his privacy and speak of matters that were none of her business.
Moira arrived then with a warmed blanket, and together the two of them eased Ailsa off the floor and over to the table. The four of them sat briefly together to eat while Moira drew a bath.
Once Ailsa lowered herself into the warm water and started washing away the dirt and grime, Valerie went and retrieved one of her dresses. The fit wouldn’t be perfect, but the lady was so thin that Valerie’s clothes would suit until they could find or make something better for her.
A little later, Ailsa was settled in a guest room that Moira had hastily prepared, and Moira and Valerie were tending to her cuts and bruises. With a good meal and some warmth in her, full color returned to her cheeks, and her hands stopped trembling.Nothing, however, could hide the fact that she was still far too thin, or conceal the bruises and cuts she had sustained.
Finally, the last of the wounds was tended to, and Moira rose, her knees popping as she patted Ailsa’s shoulder. “I’ll get ye some more blankets, water, and a cordial with somethin’ to help ease the pain.”
Ailsa nodded, but when Valerie moved to step away, she caught her hand. “Stay a moment, please?”
Valerie nodded and waved Moira away.
Once the maid was gone, Ailsa took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to speak if I shouldnae, but… ye ken who my braither is.”
“I ken.” Valerie nodded slowly, wondering where the conversation was headed.
“He wants ye, but it is clear that ye ken what sort of man he is. And as ye may have guessed, he was the one who arranged my marriage to Laird MacAllister.”
Valerie nodded again. “I guessed. But why are ye bringing this up now?”
“My braither doesnae see women as human beings, only possessions. To him, ye’re like his favorite painting, nothing more. There’s nay kindness or compassion in him, nor in anyone he claims he favors.”
“I ken, but I dinnae understand why ye’re tellin’ me all of this.”