Page 25 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

25

“ M aither! Maither! ‘Tis a beautiful day!”

Rosie’s voice rang through the air, pulling Alison from her sleep.

The first thing she noticed was the hot, sharp pain that radiated from her chest. The second thing she noticed was the sunlight filtering through the windows in her chamber. She squinted just as Rosie threw her tiny body onto the bed.

Malina was on Rosie’s heels, her arms held out in front of her as she yelled in protest, “Calm down, ye banshee!” She rushed forward and wrapped Rosie in her arms. “I already told ye that yer maither is hurt, and we have to be gentle.”

Rosie’s eyes went wide as she looked down at Alison’s chest. “I’m sorry, Maither,” she whispered as if terrified that even speaking too loudly would hurt her mother. “I forgot.”

Alison groaned, placing her elbows behind her so she could push herself up. “’Tis all right,” she said, her voice barely above a rasp. “I need to get up anyway.”

Malina slowly put Rosie down and patted her bottom. “Me medical bag is in the hall. Be a daisy and go fetch it.”

“I’m nay daisy!” Rosie called as she turned on her heel and sprinted toward the corridor. “I’m a rose!”

The two women chuckled.

Malina turned and faced her friend. “How are ye feelin’?” she asked, moving to the head of the bed.

Alison took stock of her body before she answered. Yes, she was still sore, but the pain was not as sharp as it had been the day before.

“Better, I think,” she answered honestly, and was spared any further elaboration when Rosie returned.

The little girl held the medical bag aloft, extending it toward Malina and turning her gaze to her mother. “Can I help?” she asked tentatively.

Malina gave her a smile. “I’ll have ye go fetch yer maither some water. How about that?”

Rosie nodded, her auburn curls tumbling about her face as she turned and ran off again.

The two women watched her, Alison chuckling slightly.

“I wish I had her energy,” she said as Malina looked back at her.

“I think we all do.”

Malina pulled Alison’s blankets back with gentle hands and then set about peeling back her nightgown so she could examine the bandages.

When Evander had returned to the inn the day prior, Alison had finally agreed to take milk of the poppy. She knew that it was the only thing that would allow her to make the journey back to the castle.

When she had finally awoken, tucked firmly in her bed, in a fresh nightgown and a bandage wrapped tightly around her chest, she had been incredibly glad that she had taken the tincture. She knew that being awake during the bumpy journey would have hurt like hell. Worse than the stitches, she was certain.

Malina bent low, evaluating the bandages.

“There’s nay more blood,” she murmured, explaining as she worked. “At least nae enough to seep through. So, that’s a good sign. Will ye raise yer arms above yer head for me?”

She watched as Alison performed the exercise.

It hurt, that was for certain, but the pain was not as sharp as Alison had expected.

“It mostly feels like I’m sore,” she told Malina. “Like I’ve been lyin’ in this bed for too long.”

The healer nodded. She leaned close, pressing her ear to Alison’s chest. “I need ye to breathe deeply for me.”

On and on they went, Malina ordering Alison to perform a variety of tasks and Alison completing them to Malina’s satisfaction. Some she was able to do with little difficulty, while others had her gasping for air.

But, by the end of it, Malina looked pleased.

“I think ye’ll be all right to move about today,” she said with a grin. “Ye’ll need help, and I dinnae want ye movin’ without someone there to help ye. Cannae risk tearin’ yer stitches. But we can get ye down to breakfast.”

Alison beamed at her friend just as Rosie returned.

The girl held a mug in her hand, moving so quickly that water sloshed over the sides. “I have the water!” she exclaimed, skidding to a halt at the foot of the bed and beaming.

Malina chuckled, reaching forward and plucking the mug from Rosie’s hands before handing it to Alison. “I’ll have ye drink a tincture, and ye’ll need to wash it down with water,” she advised.

Alison screwed up her face in disgust. “Nae milk of the poppy again. I dinnae want to be sleepin’ all day.”

“’Tis nae milk of the poppy,” Malina assured her. “It will only dull some of the pain. Ye’ll still be sore, but it’ll make ye a little more comfortable.”

Alison nodded, waiting as Malina took a vial out of her medicine bag and handed it to her. She lifted the vial to her lips, grimacing as the bitter liquid filled her mouth.

As she washed it down with the water, she was thankful that Malina had the foresight to send her daughter to fetch it, even if Rosie had spilled more than half of it on her way back to the room.

It worked quickly, rushing through her body, relaxing her muscles, and warming her. A fuzzy feeling pervaded her mind, a bit like she was floating, but it was not as oppressive as the effect of milk of the poppy had been.

And, just as Malina had said, it dulled the pain.

“All right, let’s get ye up and dressed.” Malina beamed at her before turning and calling for the maids, who had, apparently, been waiting in the hallway.

Two of them filed into the room. They stood on either side of Alison and let her use them as support while she tried to stand up. Between the three women and Alison, they were able to get her rebandaged and dressed for the day.

Alison moved slowly, the pain still a dull ache that served to remind her of what had occurred the day before, but it did not prevent her from moving about.

As they stepped out of her chambers and began their trek down to the dining hall, she turned to Malina.

“Has he returned?” she asked hopefully, although she forced herself to keep her voice low so Rosie would not overhear.

Malina shook her head. “Nay. We havenae heard anythin’ from him yet.”

“Is the other Laird still here?” Alison’s mind scrambled to come up with his name, but it evaded her.

“Laird Kincaid?” Malina supplied, and Alison nodded. “I dinnae ken. I overheard some of the maids talkin’ about preparin’ a room for him, but I’m nae sure if he stayed. He did mention somethin’ about ridin’ off to see if he could find yer husband.”

Alison allowed the conversation to die off, her disappointment curtailing her desire to talk. She wanted to see Duncan. Perhaps it was the tincture she had taken, or maybe there was some other reason, but she could not bear the scenes that flashed through her mind—images of him alone, riding his horse, hurt or maimed as he tried to enact whatever he thought of as justice.

He had told her that he would return, that would be back after a couple of days at most. But how was that a promise he could keep if he was riding out hellbent on taking someone’s life? There was a plethora of things that could go wrong. And unlike last time, Alison did care if something happened to her husband.

They turned down the corridor leading to the dining hall. The doors were open wide, and the smell of food wafted toward them from inside. Alison’s mouth watered, and it was only then that she realized she had hardly eaten anything since she had been stabbed.

“We made all yer favorites,” Effie announced the moment Alison stepped into the room.

The maid was standing in the middle of the hall, grinning as she placed a final plate on the table and straightened one of the vases on it. Alison swept her eyes over the dishes—stuffed sausage, eggs, a large pile of toast, and a bowl of fresh blueberries.

She could not wait to dig in.

Apparently, Rosie shared the same sentiment. She bounded into the room, pulled back her chair, plopped down on it, and hungrily eyed the spread laid out before them.

“Thank ye, Effie,” Alison said, wincing as she gingerly sank down into her chair.

The staff fussed over her, refusing to accept no for an answer as they fixed her a plate and made sure she had everything she desired. More than once, she caught sight of Malina.

Her friend stood in the corner, watching it all unfold with a grin on her face.

Alison wanted to tell them all to stop fussing, to shoo them away and assure them that she could make her own plate, but another part of her was extremely touched by their hovering.

Finally, after what felt like ages, her and Rosie’s plates were piled high with food and the staff exited the room. Malina sank into a chair beside them, and they all began to eat.

Rosie chattered while she ate, throwing out questions to Malina about how long it was going to take for her mother to heal, and Malina answered them all.

Normally, it would infuriate Alison to no end having people talk about her as if she was not there. But not this morning.

No, her mind was elsewhere—across the Highlands, wondering where her husband might be. She wanted him home, and she wanted him home that instant.

She was silent as she ate, and her belly became full much quicker than she had thought it would. Just as she was about to push away from the breakfast table, allowing Malina and Rosie to continue their meal, a guard walked into the hall.

“Me Lady?” he called. The tone of his voice caught her attention.

Alison whirled around to look at him, and he bowed his head in respect.

“Yes, Athol?” she asked, recognizing the guard as one of her husband’s men.

“A messenger has arrived,” he announced. “He states that he has Laird MacKimmon’s response to the peace offer. Typically, I would escort him to the Laird’s study, but he isnae here.”

He looked at her expectantly, and she nodded.

“Take him to the study,” she ordered. “I’ll receive him there.”

She pushed back her chair. Malina immediately rushed to help her, but she waved her off.

“I can do it meself,” she chided, having had enough of people fussing over her. “I’ll move slowly so I do not tear a stitch, and I promise to sit the moment I am in the study.”

“Are ye sure?” Malina asked, looking concerned. “It wouldnae be any trouble to walk ye?—”

Alison held her hand up to silence her friend. “Aye, I’m sure. The short walk will help to clear me head. Stay. Keep Rosie company. I’ll be back.”

Malina nodded.

Alison could tell that her friend was unsure, but she did not change her mind. She needed time alone, and to do something other than sleeping and sitting.

She did not want to sit idle, waiting for Duncan to return, or else she would go mad.