“Curse him!” the teary-eyed maid said. “Curse him to die too!”
“She is not dead!” Gunn motioned for Jasper to bring them both closer. “Cease yer yowling and touch her cheek.”
Tears streaming down his face, wee Frances bared his teeth and shot Gunn a hateful glare. As Jasper brought him level with the unconscious nursemaid, he finally calmed and looked down at her. His small hand trembled as he barely brushed a finger across her cheek. “Warm,” he said, then turned to the scrawny maid. “She is still warm.”
“Aye,” Gunn said. “She is warm because she still lives. Women do this sometimes.” He resettled the lady in his arms, deciding that holding her was rather nice even though a mite unconventional. “Do ye ken her name? She never told me.”
“Swear ye willna hurt her.” Frances glared at him, distrust and hatred ringing in his tone.
“I willna hurt her,” Gunn promised quietly, then nodded to Jasper. “Set him down. Young Frances is a brave protector to be treated with respect.”
“Chieftain! What have ye done?” Mrs. Thistlewick pushed into their midst.
“I have done nothing. When have ye ever seen me mistreat a woman?” He returned his focus to Frances and knelt so the boy could better see his nursemaid. “Her name, lad?”
“Lorna Merriweather.” Frances stepped closer, slid his hand into Lorna’s, and gently patted it. He nodded at the sniffling maid beside him. “And this here is Hesther.” After another pat on Lorna’s hand, he asked, “When will she wake?”
“Da! What did ye do?”
Gunn clenched his teeth and bowed his head to keep from snapping at his beloved daughter. “I caught the lass as she swooned so she wouldna hit the floor.”
Nine-year-old Bella moved closer. She gave Frances a sympathetic nod. “Is she yer mama?”
“I wish she was,” the boy whispered.
Lorna’s lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks, then she opened her vivid blue-green eyes, blinking rapidly as though confused. “Oh my.” The breathlessness of her whisper stirred Gunn, daring him to cradle her closer to hear it again.
He smiled down at her, regretting that now she was awake, he no longer had an excuse to hold her. “Are ye better now, lass?”
She hurried to look away while trying to right herself and put her feet on the floor. “Aye, I am. Thank ye for helping me.”
He supported her while she stood, keeping hold of her arm. “Ye still seem a mite unsteady.”
“I will be…uhm…fine.” She tried to ease free of his grasp but lost her balance.
Frances jumped in and wedged himself under her arm. “I feared he had killed ye for certain.”
Lorna flickered a weak smile down at the boy. “Everything is fine.” She exhaled a shuddering breath, then added, “I am sure it will be.”
“Bring the lass some of the warmed wine,” Mrs. Thistlewick said with a sharp clap of her hands that sent nearby servants scurrying.
Gunn led the addled beauty to one of the long trestle tables and helped her sit on the bench beside it. He seated himself opposite her. Her sweet, fresh scent still clung to him, stirring memories of late summer breezes wafting through fields of heather. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, his wee daughter jumped in and interrupted.
“I am Bella,” the child said with a bright smile. She rested her hand on his arm while keeping her introduction aimed at the slightly dazed woman sitting opposite him. “This here is my da, but ye ken that by now, I am sure. What be yer name?”
“Lorna Merriweather,” the lass said, appearing more than a little unsettled. With an elbow propped on the table, she rested her head in her hand. “Sorry to cause such a fuss. I dinna wish to be any trouble.”
“I dinna think ye will be the one causing trouble,” Bella said, then turned back to him. “That woman ye invited here is nipping at Mary, Janie, and Alice like a herd dog. Nothing in her rooms suits her, and that man who came with her is as growly as a cornered badger.”
Gunn struggled not to smile. Bella’s information betrayed her latest whereabouts. “Have ye been spying from the tunnels again?”
The youngling ignored his question and continued her rant with a flick of her little hand. “And that woman bleats like a spoiled bairn about any and everything. Saying that a countess needs more than one lady’s maid, since hers is so lacking.” The child turned and gave Hesther an apologetic nod. “Sorry, lass, but she did say that.”
Hesther accepted the criticism with a pitiful curtsy. “I understand, miss. If ye will take me to her, the brunt of her anger will return to me rather than the others trying to please her.”
“I have heard enough,” Mrs. Thistlewick said with a disgruntled huff. “With yer permission, my chieftain, I shall attend to this matter. I know just the maid to sort the Lady Murdina and help her settle in proper.”
“God help that maid,” Lorna muttered quietly. Her lovely eyes flared wide when he chuckled. “Sorry. I should not have said that.”
