Page 14 of The Laird’s Vengeful Desire (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #2)
CHAPTER SEVEN
“ S weet heavens!” Rhona dropped the shoe immediately, her playfulness vanishing into horror. “Ian! I’m so sorry. I didnae mean–”
Ian’s hand flew to his eye, covering it instinctively as pain shot through his skull. “’Tis all right,,” he muttered, blinking rapidly with his good eye.
“Let me see.” Rhona rushed toward him, her hands reaching for his face. “Move yer hand. I need tae see how bad it is.”
“It’s fine–” Ian started to say, but Rhona was having none of it.
“Move. Yer. Hand.” Her voice carried the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed in matters of healing. “Now.”
Ian reluctantly lowered his hand, squinting at her through his uninjured eye. The world looked slightly blurry, but he could still see well enough. More than well enough to notice how Rhona’s nightgown had shifted as she knelt beside him, the thin fabric gaping slightly at the neckline.
Heaven help me.
His mouth suddenly went dry. “Ye’re keepin’ it closed,” Rhona observed, her face pale with worry. “Can ye open it?”
Ian tried, wincing as the movement sent fresh waves of pain through his head. “Aye, but it hurts like the devil.”
“We need tae get ye tae the healer immediately.” Rhona was already moving toward the door. “I might have blinded ye!”
“I’m nae blind,” Ian protested, though he had to admit his vision was somewhat impaired. “And Baird’s clear on the other side of the castle. It can wait until mornin’.”
“It absolutely cannae wait!” Rhona’s voice rose with panic. “Head injuries can worsen quickly. If there’s any swellin’–”
“I have some ointments in me chambers,” Ian said quickly, seeing how distressed she was becoming.
Rhona bit her lip, clearly torn. “That’s nae the same as proper healin’–”
“Let’s just tae see how bad it is first,” Ian said gently. “If it’s serious, we’ll drag Baird from his bed. Deal?”
She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But ye’re keepin’ that eye shut tight until I can look at it properly.”
“Aye, healer,” Ian said with a hint of his old grin.
“Dinnae mock me when I might have blinded ye!”
“I wouldnae dream of it.”
The walk back to Ian’s chambers felt interminable with Rhona hovering anxiously at his elbow, guiding him as if he were completely blind instead of simply squinting through one eye.
She kept up a steady stream of worried chatter about head injuries and the importance of immediate treatment, while Ian found himself oddly touched by her genuine concern.
“Careful of the step here,” she murmured, her hand sliding under his arm to steady him. “And here’s a tapestry hangin’ low just ahead.”
“I can see well enough tae navigate me own castle,” Ian said, amused despite the persistent throbbing in his skull.
“With one eye closed? I think nae.” Rhona’s grip on his arm tightened protectively. “Just humor me until we can assess the damage.”
Ian’s chambers were larger and far more luxurious than Rhona’s, with a massive bed draped in rich fabrics and a fireplace that could have roasted an entire stag. Rhona looked around with interest for a moment before focusing on the task at hand.
“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to a chair near the fire. “And keep that eye closed.”
Ian obeyed, settling into the chair and watching with his good eye as Rhona bustled around the room with the efficiency of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.
She found his washbasin, poured fresh water from a pitcher, and located the small collection of medicinal supplies he kept for minor injuries.
“These will dae,” she murmured, examining several small pots of ointment. “Though I’d prefer tae have some wolf’s bane, if ye have it.”
“There’s a small shelf over there,” he pointed toward it, “second pot from the left,” Ian said, impressed despite himself. “How did ye ken I’d have wolf’s bane?”
“Most warriors keep it fer bruisin’,” Rhona brought her supplies over to him, setting them on a small table beside his chair. “Now, let me see what we have here.”
She knelt beside his chair, bringing her face close to his as she gently tilted his head toward the firelight.
Ian found himself holding his breath as her fingers traced carefully around his injured eye, her touch feather-light and professional.
Then, he inhaled and his senses exploded.
This close, he could smell the scent of chamomile and honey in her hair, sweet and intoxicating in a way that made his pulse quicken
“Hold still,” she murmured, completely unaware of the havoc she was wreaking on his composure. “I need tae get this just right . Open it slowly,” she instructed. “Tell me if the pain gets worse.”
Ian complied, gradually opening his eye while Rhona peered intently at the injury. “The eye itself looks clear,” she said after a thorough examination. “Nay blood, nay visible damage tae the surface. But there’s already some swellin’ around the socket, and ye’ll likely have a nasty bruise.”
Her delicate fingers continued their gentle exploration, and Ian found himself grateful for her skill. When was the last time someone had tended to him with such tenderness and genuine concern?
“This might sting a bit,” Rhona warned, dipping a clean cloth in the wolf’s bane ointment. “But it’ll help prevent the worst of the bruisin’.”
She began applying the medicine with careful strokes, her brow furrowed in concentration. Ian tried to focus on something other than how close she was, how professional and competent she seemed.
“Where did ye learn all this?” He asked, as much to distract himself as from genuine curiosity.
“Our healer,” Rhona replied, not looking up from her work. “I’ve been learnin’ from her since I was a wee lass. Whenever I could slip away from me lessons, I’d go tae her cottage and watch her work.”
“That’s unusual fer a lady of yer standin’.” Ian observed.
Rhona’s hands stilled for a moment. “Aye. Me maither always said it was useful tae ken how tae help people.”
Ian heard the pain in her voice and felt a stab of sympathy.
After a few minutes of silence, Ian spoke.
“Why ye were so determined tae find yer sister yerself?” he asked suddenly. “Because yer family couldnae afford tae send men searchin’? I ken yer clan was strugglin’ somewhat.”
“Partly.” Rhona resumed her ministrations, her touch even gentler now. “But mostly because I couldnae bear the thought of her bein’ possibly lost while I sat safely at home doin’ naething.”
Ian found himself studying her face as she worked. The fierce loyalty in her voice struck him. Her dedication to family was evident, even in captivity.
“Ye’re skilled at this,” he said quietly, gesturing toward the ointment. “Baird could learn a thing or two from ye.”
Rhona’s hands stilled again, and when she looked at him, Ian saw something shift in her expression. The careful distance she’d been maintaining seemed to waver, replaced by something warmer, more vulnerable.
“I’m nae.” She whispered. “I’ve made many mistakes.”
“Aye, well,” Ian said carefully, “we’ve all made our fair share of those, lass.
Rhona continued applying the ointment, her movements efficient, completing the task.
“There,” she said softly, but she didn’t immediately pull away. Their faces were still close, her fingers still gentle against his skin.
For a moment, neither moved. Ian found himself studying her face in the firelight, noting the concentration in her blue eyes, the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed.
“Ian,” she breathed, and Ian thought he detected something different in her voice, something that turned his name on her lips into a physical caress.
He leaned closer, “Rhona…”
For a moment, she stayed perfectly still, her eyes fluttering closed. Then, as if suddenly realizing what was happening, Rhona jerked back so quickly she nearly knocked over the ointment pots.
“I… I need tae go,” she stammered, scrambling to her feet. “The ointment needs time tae work, and ye should rest.”
“Rhona, wait–”
But she was already at the door, her hand on the latch. “Keep that eye closed for at least an hour,” she said without looking back. “But best nae tae sleep fer as long as ye can after a blow tae the head. And if the pain gets worse, wake Baird immediately.”
Before Ian could say another word, she was gone, leaving him alone with the lingering scent of chamomile and honey, and the memory of her touch against his skin.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes – both of them this time – and rubbed his temples.
What a bloody mess this had become. The marriage proposal had been a disaster, she’d made her feelings perfectly clear on the matter.
And now… whatever had just happened between them only complicated things further.
Ian rose from his chair and moved to the window, staring out into the moonlit courtyard below.
His Council would expect answers soon. They’d want to know her decision, would pressure him for next steps.
MacPherson raiders were still making trouble on the borders and his clan was vulnerable – his army barely rebuilt.
And here I am worryin’ about a lass who’d probably put a blade in me back soon as she got the chance.
Yet, even as he formed the thought, he wasn’t entirely convinced it was true after what had just happened.
The situation was impossible. He couldn’t force her, but he couldn’t simply release her either, not without risking war. And his clan depended on him to find a solution.
What am I supposed tae dae?
The thought followed him as he finally sought his bed, after waiting for some time, but sleep was a long time coming.
When it finally came, his rest was uneasy – like trying to sleep on a battlefield where the war hadn’t ended, just paused.
Every sound may be an enemy approach, every shadow a threat, and somewhere in the dark corners of his mind, decisions waited with drawn blades.
The following day would no doubt bring the same problems, the same impossible situation. His Council’s demands. MacPherson threats. And the woman who had shown him such unexpected kindness, but who would likely never willingly be part of any solution he could offer.