“Nay.” Catriona smiled. Alexander’s curled lip and wrinkled nose lifted her spirits. “Elena scented this one with ground rose petals. I swear it.” She pulled away the waxed cloth covering the jar and offered it to him. “Smell.” She almost laughed aloud when he tilted his head to a leery angle and gave the jar a hesitant sniff. All the while, he watched her as though she might fling the noxious mess at him at any moment.
He relaxed back into his pillows and nodded as he held out both arms. “Ye canna blame me. Would ye no' rather reek of roses than the manure that fertilized them?”
“Aye,” she agreed, unable to resist an unladylike snort of amusement. She daubed the salve on his reddened wrists then massaged it into his skin. Such strength. Even relaxed, his forearms rippled with hardened muscle, so large and bulked she'd never seen such. Catriona cleared her throat and bent to the task at hand, very much aware of Alexander’s steady gaze upon her.
“Be ye in a great deal of pain?”
Alexander’s deep, gentle tone held so much concern, she caught her breath. Catriona set her jaw and forced herself to keep her attention focused on the man’s arms. “Nay. Dinna fret yourself. I’m quite well. I assure ye.”
“I dinna believe ye, Catriona.” The way he spoke—so low and soothing—he shouldna do so. Not with a tone filled with such caring it threatened to set her to trembling.
She avoided looking him in the eye, turning away to return the jar to the bench. “Aye. Iamfine, ye ken?” Her hands trembled as she wiped them in her apron and struggled to assume a calm, detached demeanor. “Do ye wish to try and sit up for a while?”
“Aye.” Alexander flinched as he rolled to his side too fast for her liking.
“Hold fast now! Let me help ye.” Catriona rushed to snug her shoulder up beneath his, wrapped her arm across his broad back, and held on tight. “Slow now. Slow,” she crooned as she supported him.
Alexander groaned as he swung his body around and shifted to a sitting position. “Holy Mother of God,” he growled out. He wrapped his arm around Catriona’s shoulders and held her tight. He bowed his head, hissing at the pain through bared teeth.
“Whisky!” Catriona shouted to a nearby servant. “Now!” She held tight to Alexander. The heat of him. The feel of him clutched in her arms.Sweet Jesu, what would it be like if such a man chose to court me? Nay, not only court me, but claim me.She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and forced away the unseemly thoughts.For shame! He needs healing. Not some moon-eyed maid.
The servant scurried back to them with a bottle and handed it to Catriona. She plucked out the cork with her teeth and hurried to put the bottle to Alexander’s mouth and tip it for a long, healthy draw.
Alexander gulped down the promise of pain relief. With a deep pulling in and huffing out of whisky-scented breath, he relaxed with a faint groan then sidled himself to a seated position atop the bed.
Catriona eased a step back but kept a tight hold of his arm, secretly wishing she still had an excuse to snug up close to him. What was it about this man that attracted her so? His strength? His honor? In the short time he’d risen from his fever, he’d shown himself to be…what?A caring man.Aye, that’s what it was. Unlike most men in her life, this man cared for others more than he cared for himself. He even behaved as though he cared for her welfare and she feared such caring 'twould be her undoing.
Blinking hard against the troubling revelation, Catriona stretched out her foot to pull a small wooden stool closer and eased Alexander’s injured leg up on it. By the amount of pain his movement had caused, she verra much doubted he wished to sit upright for verra long. They wouldna move him to a chair beside the hearth today. He’d gone too pale, and she feared he was about to retch or topple over or both at any moment. She noted the proximity of the nearest bucket and slid it closer, too.
Mrs. Aberfeldy appeared bearing a tray with a small teapot, another bottle of whisky, and a shallow bowl of a yellowish-brown liquid. “He needs to get this broth into himself then drink Elena’s tonic.” She placed the tray on a small table beside the bed and gave Catriona a knowing look as she tapped a finger on the corked bottle of spirits. “He’ll need the whisky to cut the flavor of the vile stuff. The devil himself couldna stand that concoction.”
Alexander didn’t respond. He sat with head bowed and eyes closed, hands clenching the edge of the bed and arms locked in place. A sheen of sweat covered his brow and his breathing came shallow and fast.
Catriona picked up the bowl of broth, moved in close, and pressed the edge of the shallow wooden bowl to his mouth. “Try to get down just a wee bit,” she coaxed. She brushed his hair back from his face, then wrapped an arm across his shoulders and squeezed. “Just one good sip of the broth and then I’ll give ye enough whisky to make ye sleep. I promise.”
“Sister!” The bellow came from the front of the hall, near the outer doors leading to the bailey.
“Make him come here,” Alexander said in a low, dangerous rasping tone without lifting his head or opening his eyes.
Catriona placed the cup of broth back on the tray then returned to Alexander’s side. Concern flashed through her. She noticed he trembled the barest bit. “We need to lie ye back down, Alexander. I fear we’ve done too much.”
“Nay,” Alexander said with a deep, rumbling growl. “Make…him…come here.”
She didn’t have to take any action to do as Alexander asked because Calum already stormed toward them, marching in and out between the rows of tables, his cloak billowing out behind him. He halted at the foot of Alexander’s bed.
“I demand ye make one of those useless maids tend to this man,” Calum said in a brutish tone that boomed across the hall. His scowl twitched and his eyes narrowed as his gaze settled on her bruise. “'Tis unseemly for ye to do such. I’ll no' have it, ye ken?”
“Make him come closer,” Alexander whispered, his gaze still locked on the floor.
“What did he say?” Calum snapped, his focus whipping from Catriona to Alexander and then back to Catriona.
Was that fear she saw in her brother’s eyes? Interest piqued, Catriona took a step closer to Alexander and set her hand to his shoulder to steady him. “He said, ‘come closer’.”
With an arrogant huff, Calum stomped around Alexander’s propped foot, took a stance in front of him, then shoved his face to within inches of Alexander’s nose. “Close enough for ye?”
Lightning fast, Alexander grabbed hold of Calum’s throat, curled his fingers around Calum’s windpipe and squeezed. “If ye ever strike a woman again, especially this woman standing beside me, I’ll rip off your bollocks and shove them down your throat, ye ken?”
Calum’s face flared to an alarming shade of red and his eyes rolled back. He clawed and slapped at Alexander’s arm and hand, gagging and gasping for air as he sank to his knees.
