Against his feeble protests, Rose peeled the shirt off. “I need some water,” she murmured, scanning theinterior for their supplies. A water flask was near and she grabbed it, returning to her patient. She pulled the cork out and held it to Wallace’s mouth so he could drink.
“My thanks,” he gasped.
Rose poured water over the wound. Wallace hissed, and the muscles along his side contracted. The gash was deep but not mortal, slicing him along his ribs.
Rose let out the breath she’d been holding. “It will be fine. I just need to stitch it up. Let me find the others first.”
She stood and through a gaping hole in the wall, she saw Drake approaching. Strathwick followed, holding his daughter by the hand. Rose finally allowed herself to truly breathe, putting a trembling hand to her mouth. Everyone was safe, and, it appeared, the broken men vanquished.
As soon as they entered the cottage, Strathwick growled, “I told you to keep riding! Why did you come back?”
His gruff tone brought her up short, and she snapped, “I didn’t mean to! It was Moireach—I lost control of her. She went mad.”
“That cow went mad?” He pointed.
Moireach had wandered to the hole in the wall and gazed in blandly. Deidra giggled.
Rose had no explanation for the mare’s behavior. Her back ached and a wounded man needed her help. She had no time to argue.
“My box,” she said wearily and left the cottage to fetch it off the horse, chastising Moireach all the while for being such a naughty beast. When she returned, Strathwick was kneeling beside Wallace, inspecting the wound in his side.
Annoyed, Rose hurried to join them, edging Strathwick out of the way. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I might heal him,” he said dryly.
“No—it’s not bad.” She brushed his hands away. “I’ll stitch it and it will heal normally. Waste not your magic on something I can easily tend.”
“And if it festers?”
Rose turned to look at him, her mouth tight with doubt.
“I do it now,” Strathwick said patiently, “and cause myself mild discomfort, or I do it later and am laid up for a whole day at least. I choose now.”
“It might not fester.”
“Let her sew me up, my lord,” Wallace gasped. “I owe you my life, I can ask for naught more than to give fate her chance with me. Mistress MacDonell is a fine healer; it will be fine.”
Strathwick gripped Wallace’s shoulder and gazed at him with grim affection. “And that is why I want to do it.” He turned to his brother. “Gather up the rest of the horses. Take Deidra with you.”
“No!” The word exploded out of Rose without warning, surprising even herself.
Everyone stared at her in astonishment.
She hesitated, her mind racing for an explanation but drawing a blank. Nevertheless, she could not allow Deidra to go off alone with her uncle. She said, “I’d like Deidra to stay here.”
Strathwick shook his head decisively. “Nay, I never allow her to witness a healing.” He nodded to his brother. “Go.”
Drake extended his hand for Deidra to take. “No,” Rose said, standing and grabbing Deidra’s arm, pulling the child close. “It’s not safe. What if there are more broken men?”
Strathwick stood, too, his patience clearly wearing thin. “There aren’t—and if there were, she’d be safer with Drake than with you, lass. At least he follows my orders.”
“Does he?” she bit out, her eyes narrowed on the dark-haired young man now gaping at her.
Strathwick’s brows drew together in confusion and annoyance.
Drake stepped forward, indignant. “What mean you?”
She glowered at him and said in a low voice, “Youknowwhat I mean.”
