Page 30 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

30

“ C areful, lass, or ye’ll wake yer maither.”

The sound of someone talking filtered into the edges of Alison’s awareness and attempted to pull her from her slumber. She could sense light through her closed eyelids, could faintly hear her daughter giggling, but she still had no desire to wake up.

But something else tugged at her consciousness, and awareness struck her like a bolt of lightning.

The voice she had heard belonged to her husband.

Duncan is still in me room.

Alison’s eyes flew open. At first, all she could make out was the bright sunlight streaming through the open window in her bedroom.

She made to sit up, but her muscles screamed in protest, reminding her of what she had gone through the previous night. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain as she struggled to sit upright.

“Maither!” Rosie yelled, the sound making Alison’s head pound.

There was a creak of wood against stone, and a second later, massive, warm hands were pressing into her back. Alison opened her eyes again and saw Duncan.

“Careful,” he commanded, pushing her up slowly so she could assume a seated position. “Ye dinnae want Malina stitchin’ ye up again. Otherwise, ye’ll never heal.”

“What are ye doin’ here?” Alison grunted, gritting her teeth against the pain.

He looked at her in confusion. “I slept here. I told ye I was.”

Alison glanced at the corner of the room. Sure enough, a blanket was draped over the arm of the chair, cast aside as if it had been thrown off hastily. The ottoman was pushed out at an abrupt angle—obviously the source of the sound she had just heard.

Rosie was leaning against the chair as she watched Duncan trying to help her mother.

“What are ye doin’ over there, lass?” Alison asked.

“Faither was tellin’ me stories of his time away.”

Alison’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and she gaped at her husband. “Ye were tellin’ her war stories?” Her voice was high-pitched and shrill with alarm. “Ye ken she isnae old enough to deal with all of that. She cannae hear about?—”

“I didnae tell her anythin’ like that,” Duncan protested. “Ye ken I wouldnae let the bairn ken what happened on the battlefield.”

Alison sighed in relief. “What did ye tell her then?”

“Faither told me about some of the places he’d traveled to,” Rosie explained, excitement causing her words to come out quickly. “He said he stopped bad men and protected villages, and that Laird Kincaid helped him!”

“Sounds like quite the adventure.” Alison arched an eyebrow at her husband.

She was still uncomfortable with the thought of her daughter learning about what it was like for her father while he was off fighting battles. She preferred Rosie to think that he was off “protecting” them without knowing what that entailed. But Alison could not deny the awe and pride currently shining brightly in her daughter’s eyes.

“Aye,” Rosie answered, nodding her head excitedly. “And he told me all about how he rode for days to come and find ye. And how he?—”

“That’s enough, lass,” Duncan said, cutting off his daughter’s exuberant account. “We dinnae need to be jabberin’ yer poor maither’s ears off afore she’s barely opened her eyes.”

Rosie immediately clamped her mouth shut with a small giggle.

Alison could not detect a hint of the apprehension Rosie had previously felt about her father; it seemed to have disappeared completely as their bond began to grow.

“Now, do ye want to help me get yer maither up and ready for breakfast?” Duncan asked.

His question elicited a happy nod from their daughter.

Alison flushed. She wanted to protest and say that she could manage on her own, but she knew better than to argue the point. From the amount of pain that was coursing through her body at that moment, she knew she needed the help.

Her husband and Rosie rushed to her side, each one putting a hand on her back to steady her as she struggled to stand. Once she was on her feet, she stood still for several seconds to get her bearings.

“Will ye go and find Malina, Rosie?” Duncan asked.

That was all the encouragement Rosie needed. She took off at full speed and ran to fetch Melina as quickly as her little feet could carry her.

“What do we need Malina for?” Alison asked, leaning heavily on her husband’s proffered arm as they walked over to her armoire.

“Mayhap she can give ye somethin’ for the pain,” he explained. “And I didnae want Rosie under yer feet while we’re tryin’ to get ye dressed.”

Alison nodded at his sound reasoning.

Duncan pulled open the doors of the armoire, motioned toward the clothes inside, and raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.

“The blue and grey dress with the plaid skirts, if ye would,” Alison instructed him, and he wordlessly took the garment out.

Now that Alison was up and moving, her stiff and sore limbs had begun to loosen up. Some of the pain from when she had first woken up had abated, and she found it much easier to move around.

The wound in the center of her chest still hurt like the dickens, and she had difficulty bending at the waist. Duncan remained silent and patient as they worked to get her dressed.

“Ye could have sent for a maid,” Alison grumbled.

She was holding tightly to the back of the chair in front of her, leaning on it for support while Duncan laced up the back of her dress.

“Aye, but then I wouldnae have had the pleasure of dressin’ ye.”

Alison rolled her eyes, even though he could not see her expression.

“Can ye nae think of anythin’ else?” she admonished. “I have been stabbed, after all.”

Duncan shifted behind her, his body heat warming her back as he pressed himself against her. Goosebumps rose all over her skin as his breath tickled the nape of her neck.

“That’s precisely why I’m willin’ to settle for only seein’ ye undressed,” he growled, his voice thick and heavy with desire. “Otherwise, I promise ye, I would have already shown ye how happy I am that ye are alive. And trust me, I am very, very happy that ye are.”

Alison could feel his happiness, stiff and taunting, as it pressed against her backside. Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps.

Why does bein’ stabbed have to be so damned painful?

If it were not for the pain radiating from the center of her chest, she would very much have taken him up on whatever he was offering.

“I’m healin’,” she argued back, underscoring her words by grinding her buttocks against his groin, seeking a bit more of the sensual pressure.

“And I can be patient.”

His breath tickled her ear one last time, and then he was gone. The warmth of his body faded away, and a chill washed over her. Color bloomed in her cheeks, and she sighed as he tugged the final laces tight.

Malina walked through the door just as Duncan finished lacing up Alison’s gown, her medical bag held tightly in her hands.

“How are ye feelin’?” she asked, her eyes immediately landing on Alison.

“Like I’ve been stabbed.”

Malina snorted a laugh as she walked forward. She dropped the bag on the chair Alison was still leaning on and began to fish through her vials until she found the one she was looking for.

“And I wonder why that is,” she joked, taking one of the dark glass vials out of the bag. “But lucky for ye, I have this.”

She dangled it in front of Alison’s nose, and Alison snatched it.

Malina grinned as Alison unstopped the vial. “Ye look like ye’re gettin’ around all right, though. With a little help.” She looked over Alison’s shoulder.

Alison was certain that her friend’s eyes had landed on Duncan.

She nodded. “Aye, Duncan’s been a great help.” She nodded her head toward the vial in her hand. “Now, how much of this do I drink? And where’s me daughter?”

“The wee lady stayed in the dining hall. She’s yappin’ Effie’s ear off about her faither protectin’ us all.” Malina’s eyes briefly flicked to Duncan before returning to Alison, and she pointed at the bottle. “And ye drink the whole vial, so get to it.”

Alison did as she was told, wincing at the bitterness of the liquid.

“It’ll take only a few minutes to take effect,” her friend continued. “In the meantime, we can just walk slowly and get ye down to the breakfast table.”

Duncan extended his arm toward Alison, and she looked at it warily. The promises and temptations that had dripped from his lips like honey had been too much. Her mind was addled.

She was so focused on trying to heal, on trying not to give in to the pain, that she did not want to be distracted by her husband’s impure thoughts, but there was also not a single part of her that wanted him to stop.

One dark eyebrow rose in question. No, not in question, but in challenge.

Alison gritted her teeth, knowing that she would not be able to make the walk down to the breakfast table alone. At the same time, she did not want to give Duncan the satisfaction of once again being the knight coming to her rescue.

She met her husband’s eyes and grinned. “Malina,” she trilled, her voice sounding much too airy, but she did not give it a second thought. It would be worth it to watch Duncan’s expression shift as her scheme played out.

Malina turned around, patiently waiting for her to speak.

“Would ye be a darlin’ and help me get to the dining hall?” Alison asked. “I dinnae want to trouble the Laird any further. He was already so disturbed and inconvenienced by havin’ to sleep in the chair in me room. I wouldnae want to bother him any further.”

“I can help me own wife,” Duncan growled, his arm still raised as he waited for her to take it.

“Aye.” Alison’s voice was saccharine sweet. “I do not doubt yer ability, but ye shouldnae have to help me. Nae after everythin’ ye’ve already done.” She shifted her gaze back to Malina. “So, what do ye say?”

Her friend was clearly uneasy, the tension evident in her posture as she stared between the two of them.

Alison felt somewhat guilty at having put Malina in an awkward position by making her choose between serving her best friend and her Laird.

Malina had never been one to back down from a challenge, however uncomfortable it might be. She nodded and approached Alison.

Alison did not miss the fact that her best friend never once glanced at Duncan. As Malina got closer, her eyes remained fixed on Alison. She extended her arm, allowing Alison to take all the time she needed to grab onto it.